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Tag Archives: art

Just saying…what I see.


I was asked to look at this picture and write, in exactly 100 words, what came to mind…it’s written below.

How do you grow?

If earth be left adrift
like rotten wood and
soil be soiled in salt?

Did science foresee
that beauty
could breathe life
by silhouette?

Maybe yet; an Artist

chalking in night
the boldest moon – so bright
that single stars dance

Their chance for the limelight
taken as he brushes –
tapers in shades
of dampening cloud

So loud they cry; look at me
it is I, that shines for you

He keeps concealing
dreaming what secrets
are hidden in leaves

Fury bursts with bright
and he smiles.

His boldest piece; black –
grown without soil
bathed in light


Colour Me In

Paint me in watercolours

to see the true haze

of my affection.

Pastels refuse to blend easily.

Charcoal: too black

on white.

Take your time to brush

real beauty,

putting down the pencil – no rehearsals

no lines.

Just colour me in.

Restore my picture,

stroking turquoise and crimson and buttercup

yellows forward.

To bring me life.

Pandora’s Guilt

There is a moth

beating its wings inside of the lampshade.

I watch it haunt me from up there,

Perspiring the need for absolution

until I vomit regret

with a violence

of the Earth at present.


As I shake with a torment of ages

it continues to tink-tink and flicker,

casting further shadows on my

shattered soul.

In the early days I was hopeful

for a remedy

but that was the sweet scent

lingering in the air.

My final escapee.

I tried to catch them, extinguish them all .

Every single, last one.

But tears of desperation evaporated in

the flames that should

never have been given.

They were of a speed that mocked


dividing like cells, intent on poisoning.

The aids of the world of then;



mutating life before my eyes.

And so I stopped. Admitted defeat and

indulged in weary desolation.

Began to observe my creation

every affliction, a wound upon my


It was with unprecedented sadness

that I watched them spread, spoiling

the beauty of my beginning.

And I was that, before then.

Before the whispering brain

boiled over in lunacy,

spasms of interest

paralysing my conscience

until I was gripped; possessed by it.

You see,

I am a map of scars

for your world of pain,

Learned all too late


curiosity kills more

than just cats.

And for my part in that,

I grieve.

The hindrance

What a curious melody
enveloped in pink satin.
Such an elegant,
Beautiful shell.

This beauty is forsaken.
The ripples from within
awake the undressing.

A troubled mind may seek
to rest,
Though melodies of this kind
cannot be silenced.

It is a chain,
A mournful clatter
with a hint of Northern Soul.

A tuneful hindrance
that will never be denied,
For it gives the satin
its colour.