New paintings and regular art updates.
He can’t hear
I repeat
Sorry, what?
I repeat..
Cars on fire?!
No dress for hire
I repeat.
I repeat
Come for a walk?
We need to talk
I repeat
Understand me
I seek
But all the time
It’s like I’m a mime
On repeat
Hearing loss
Is loss for both
Speaker and listner
I repeat
‘I love you’.
And repeat….
Dry as dust
No tears fall
The end of fuss
Cracked and dull
Sadness ends
Emotions pall
Memories shrink
Till nothing at all
Moistens my eyes
My eyelids won’t fall.
My mind is muddled,
My thoughts are muddied
My intentions busy
But ideas are muzzy…
Such a joyous time of year
To enjoy, with good cheer
Or so they say, and so I wish
To drink and eat a tasty dish
To share love far and wide.
But also remember those that died?
For they are here no longer, live
And for their memory we will strive.
We cannot follow where they’ve gone
We can only know their life is done.
So sad and sweet my thoughts entangled,
To relax my mind I’ll try to wrangle.
I can not say about it, more,
I do not want to be a bore.
I can only think of farewells
Then listen to midnight bells
And listen to the Christmas carols
Sung by all of heavens heralds.
Enough of this
Peace is my wish.
A rescue from my sisters house. A pink cyclamen plant in flower. It fits in with the Christmas cactii, a similar shade of pink. I can’t find another place for it because there are radiators under the windows so they are only really good for germinating seedlings.
I would have bought all her other plants home with me to look after, it’s sad to think they are all sitting there in her house, in the cold. It’s sad I won’t speak to her on Christmas day, I won’t be able to share my thoughts, ask how things are going. Be interested in her family. Still, I will look at the Cyclamen and remember.
⚽
No point in pretending
That I love the game
I understand the offside rule
I can explain it
But why should I?
I admired England’s Women
Playing in the European Cup
That was refreshing.
But Premier league?
Expensive, over hyped, boring,
Is my opinion.
And the World Cup venue?
Inequality and slave labour?
A Man’s paradise
Where women are second class
Rainbows are rebuked
Sports washing is preventing
Real freedoms.
Enough said.
Landscape painted a couple of months ago. I may paint more in this style. I just need to get organised. Life has been hard over the last few weeks, but it must carry on (hopefully). I need to move this from one gallery to another so more people see it. X
It’s social media so I’m not sharing her whole face or naming her. But she had a good Farewell yesterday, kind words and thoughts. We seperated in late teenage hood as I left home to go to college. We went in different directions, I think she had a more romantic view of life and she had an almost fairy tale history (married with two children). I won’t talk much about her world, I don’t want to share too much personal information. We were seperated by many miles, but the bond was still there. I wish we had been closer and visited more. Bereavement is full of regret. I do regret, but I don’t feel guilty.
Twins on the TV, twins in conversations, twins on the Internet. It’s like the universe knows what’s going on, and bereavement too, so sad that there are so many loses. Each one gouges another piece from my heart. The smoke alarm went off a couple of mornings ago. I want cooking and there are no sockets or electrical equipment near to it. The only thing I could think of was to check the Internet. False alarms are caused by high humidity or maybe a small spider sneaking inside the alarm! Or my mind telling me my sister is haunting me? I’d rather see her in a dream, to properly say goodbye. I’m sad, but I have to accept what has happened.
I want to time travel
Back to Cornwall
Back to happy days
Laughing and crying
With happiness.
Warm sunshine
And late sunsets
Beautiful countryside
Gentle breezes
Walking across fields
Passing cows and horses
Before the sadness.
My eyes flood with tidal waves of tears.
Storm clouds have darkened my brows.
Salt tears course down my cheeks.
Time has flown, she is gone.
My sister – my twin.
Written and drawn at 4am. Things just got to me again and it seemed a good way of expressing myself.
Mallaband-Brown