Bird

Tobago Feb 06 038

The air is still today
no breeze to carry me

It will take effort to soar
and I am feeble and weak

Yet I take leave of my safety tree
and swoop down

in free fall
forgetting to fly

‘Til instinct kicks in
and clumsily flapping

I turn my head skywards
And spy the blue beyond the clouds

Where thermals wait
To carry me above the clamour

and I will glide unhindered
ethereal and free

 

 

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Sinking

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The fruits decayed beneath me as I slept
in the sunshine of the yellow day,
whilst the rest of the world danced,
oblivious to the sorrowful dreams
sowing the seeds of chaos in my head.

I fell into the water
and the purple waves
took me to the edge of time.

I nestled there and watched the peacocks
strut amongst the turtles,
and the underwater things writhing in the air,
and there, amongst the rocks and pearls of the sea,
I took my last land lubber breath.

 

My Daughters

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My sweetlings.
Commas wrapped in crochet shawls.
Cradled, they knew not what lay ahead
in this desperate world,
only the soft strokes and gentle voices
Of love.

Rosy cheeked
they fell into the rhythms of childhood,
with it’s classroom wars
and playground battles.
They learned to navigate their own steep road
And won.

Their prize?
Independence and freedom
from the happy home.
That cosy ancestral cave
Whose walls housed secrets, and memories,
And me

How they grew,
my little sweetlings.
Confident, funny and smart,
they are brilliance in these dark days,
shining their light on every distant path
they take.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But is it art?

Just over a year ago, my husband and I decided to join the local art group. We’d wanted to find a hobby we could enjoy together in our old age (!) and having explored various ideas including sporty stuff, choirs etc, art seemed to be the least exhausting option.

It has been great. Really wonderful. The other art group folk are a fantastic bunch and we spend a lot of time laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Which is just as well, because pretty quickly it became obvious that I do not have a natural talent when it comes to putting paint on paper. In fact, I’m pants at it.

Irritatingly, my husband has proved to be astonishingly good, and the art group has rekindled his old passion for painting. He’s churning out lovely pieces at such a rate, we’re going to have to move soon to accommodate them all.

The opposite side of the coin is me. I’m plodding away, churning out rubbish. It is just so frustrating. In my head my picture is going to be a beautiful dancer poised in a perfect landscape. On paper it’s a lumpy out of proportion excuse for a human on a muddy blur of greenish stuff. My pretty flowers aren’t. My trees are lollipops painted by a three year old. You get the gist.

It’s even more annoying since I know I can draw passably with a pencil, it’s just the bloomin’ paint not doing as it’s told. It has often made me grumpy, sometimes tearful, and occasionally violent.. towards the paper anyway, ripping pictures up in a stormy huff and flinging them in the bin with venom. This was supposed to be enjoyable…

Anyhoo… as I say it’s been a year now, of me trying but totally losing confidence and being heartily embarrassed by my efforts during the art group sessions. But yet I’m still plugging on.

Just lately, I’ve had one or two things that I’ve been vaguely happy with. Mostly when I’ve been trying the least, just sort of doodling. My watercolours are still a bit washed out, but coloured pencil work is coming on a bit better, and over the last couple of weeks I’ve ventured back into acrylics, which previously has been the medium that has made me the crossesist (yeah, I know… but it’s perfect, and should be a real word even if it’s not).

In the past I’ve tried to actually copy something. Do something realistic and beautiful, but not so long ago I realised how miserable the failures were making me, so I started just sloshing on paint and seeing where it got me. D’ya know what? I had fun! And actually, the pictures have started looking like I want them to. Maybe not brilliant, but they look like mine. Like I have some sort of my own style.

I admit, they, like my poems, are a bit dark and broody, but that’s it. That’s capturing what I’m aiming for. Sometimes I think we need to embrace our limitations. I may never be able to paint a pretty flower, or a magnificent animal. My trees may always be lollipops, but they are my lollipops.

So, I am taking a leap here. A big leap. A very big leap. I am going to share some of my pictures with you on this blog, and hopefully, hopefully, you will be able to watch me improve and grow, and maybe, in the not too distant future, I will start to gain confidence and be proud of my creations. In the meantime, here are some of my recent attempts with acrylics….

p.s. to see some of the beautiful work other members of our group produce you can visit the ‘our art’ page on the Sutton Art Group website at https://suttonartgroup.wordpress.com/our-art/