by

Getting Sticky

Well, in my pursuit of creating something arty, I have taken to sticking things.  Yes, collage.  I make an horrendous mess, with bits of paper, tissue and glue covering every surface, including myself, but I have to say I am quite pleased with the results.

The first one, ‘The New Forests’ was inspired by an item on the news that made me so angry and upset that I didn’t know what to do with the emotion.  They’d used a drone to film the extent of the camps in Bangladesh that hundreds of thousands of Rohingya refugee people have been reduced to living in.  They showed the camps sprawling across an area bigger than Manchester or Glasgow.  The people, men, women and children, in those camps have little clean water, food, health care, in fact, none of the things we take for granted on an every day basis. It made me consider (not for the first time, I hasten to add) the quite appalling inequalities suffered by people around the world, and creating the collage became quite cathartic for me.  In fact, I got so much out of it (never mind the result!) when finished, I immediately started on the second, ‘Elusive Eden’.

This piece was inspired by poetry, and as with the first one, I decided to use relevant text within it – in this case excerpts from ‘I know why the cage bird sings’ by Maya Angelou, ‘Mending Wall’ by Robert Frost, and ‘The Road not Taken’ also by Frost. The result was somewhat cheerier than I imagined, and the poems have all but disappeared, but nonetheless, I quite like it, and whilst I doubt anyone looking at it would immediately grasp its representational meaning as I intended, at least it’s colourful!

The third piece, is frankly, just a flight of fancy.  Using tissue paper, which proved much trickier, and generally messier than I could ever have imagined.  Lots of fun though!

The New Forests

The New Forests

Elusive Eden 1

Elusive Eden

By the River

By the River

 

by

Heavy Metal

The steel in your eyes,
sharp as a Japanese blade,
captures my thoughts
in its mirror.

Wielding your words
as a hefty sword
you slice through
my diaphanous centre.

I stand dripping and distraught
whilst your iron core
remains unmoved,
unrepentant.

And though I feel a flinty spark of anger
I cannot melt a missing heart.
For you are nothing
but a tin man.

 

by

Merry Christmas

Christmas 11 063

They don’t tell you about
the dark and drizzly dawn,
or the slippery grey slush
should it ever really snow at this time of year.
Nor the hideously over-crowded shops,
or that early-waking panic
that there’s still so much to do.

I wish that it was over.

Neither do they mention
the endless frustrating wrapping
when the sticky tape sticks
only to itself,
the ribbons tie you in knots,
and you find that every single gift
that you bought is
oddly shaped.

I’ll be so glad when it’s over

And did they tell you how
difficult it is to dust decorations?
Or how the tree starts to droop
and drop needles
and baubles to the floor,
and the poinsettia starts to die,
way too soon.

It better soon be over

No-one said that we’d have
nothing to eat for a week
because all that food that
is crammed into cupboards
and covers the worktops
in the kitchen is
‘for Christmas’.

Oh, when will it be over.

Ah, but did they tell you of the unbridled joy of it?
The shredded un-wrapping paper wantonly strewn about the floor?
the mince pies and mimosas for breakfast?
The jolly music that you were so sick of yesterday?
The luscious smells of long roasting
permeating the festive rooms,
flavouring the laughter with anticipation?

The pulling of crackers?
Silly jokes and hats and clinking of glasses?
The sated sleepiness of afternoon,
watching Christmas specials,
then silly games in the evening
and staying up ‘til three
not wanting it to be over?

DSC_0508

by

Green sleeves…

… Green trousers, green carpet…. errr… that’s what I ended up with while I was having a bash at this painting.

I present to you my latest adventure with acrylics.  My very first landscape. Lots of green.  I know it’s a bit heavy handed, and some of the trees have gone a bit awry, but since I’m still trying to master mixing good greens, and I always shy away from attempting to paint anything with a suggestion of water in it, I’m reasonably ok with the result.  I feel as if I’m very, very, slowly improving and beginning (beginning) to enjoy the (oh god, here it comes…) Journey.

IMG_1742 (Edited)

by

Lighting

Posted in response to the Daily Post weekly photo challenge. This week’s theme ‘Favourites – your favourite photo from 2017’

Ok.  This is a terrible photograph, out of focus and indistinct. All the magic tools of photoshop couldn’t redeem it. It’s dreadful.  And yet I share it with the world.

Why? you may ask.

Well, one of the main reasons for our visit to Iceland in November was so that I could cross another event off of my bucket list – namely, to witness the Northern Lights. Of course, I’ve seen them on TV, and in books, and there are many, many photographs, but to see them for real….well, it was a dream.

So when it came to it I made a conscious decision not to take my camera, but, for a change, to just live and experience the moment.  At the time, there were hoards of others fiddling with camera settings and peering through lenses and I could have been doing exactly the same.  Instead, I was standing with my jaw dropping, watching the most fantastic natural phenomenon you could imagine.  The lights danced in the sky in rainbow colours and I don’t believe that anyone could every capture the most wonderous reality of it no matter how skilled or fancy their camera.

Of course, I had to just take one snap with my phone, and this is the result.  So sorry an’ all, it’s a duff old picture, but for me it captures an absolute dream of a memory, and certainly one of my favourite moments of the year. 🙂

IMG_1590

by

Rage in old age

It always starts here
with a wrong word
that makes your skin prickle
and your hackles rise.
It was a thoughtless aside,
beneath the breath
a whisper of discontent
you shouldn’t have heard.

Yet with pursed lips
you broil and fester,
avoiding my eyes
by watching the distance
stretch out between us.
That which once was a hairs breadth
is now a snow filled rift.

We usually welcome silky silences.
The mute knowing of each other,
the glances and winks
touches and nods.
Our minds perfectly tuned
in harmonic melody.
Our own love language.

Now discordant and jagged,
I shrink from this quietness,
attempt a soothing sound,
offer my arms in submission,
allow the tears
and beg forbearance.
It was only a careless word.

I take up an old photograph
that sits on our sill.
A snapshot of a joyful time,
Champagne smiles
and clinking glasses,
so young in black and white
togetherness.

But still you stare ahead,
jaw set in defiance of compassion,
resisting the weakness of relenting.
But I glimpse the sadness
in your moist eyes.
Just the smallest notion
that the moment will soon pass.

So I make us some tea.

 

 

 

by

Decision

A blank sheet of paper.
That challenging white expanse.
Do I fill it with gentle words of love,
spit angry tirades onto the page,
or etch sadness into its pulp?

Should I cover it with bright paint
depicting the glory of the summer sun,
or wash it in muted tones
with tears of grey
to reflect the world?

Then I remember that this new day
is my blank sheet,
and I am that empty page,
clean and pristine,
to embellish as I choose.

And to cover my surface,
today I choose primary colours,
bright and forthright,
with luminous language
that gladdens the soul.