Poetry | Stories | Photography
A broken canvas
hurling gemstones
piercing the painting
Contemporary dancing
wildly moving inspiration
the wall and canvas collide
A dull one dimensional easel
the inspiration river flows outside
A broken canvas and broken gems
The artwork reveals itself.
A tree song
sung in the key of winter,
yet there is a melody here.
Her river art
is painted with romanticism,
yet her art is unclassified.
I stand still,
full of longing and sorrow,
yet she cheers me along.
A montage of mosaic gemstones,
your artistic licence in overdrive.
A pastiche and a dreamer of the sea,
you’re artistically afraid to be original.
deconstructed art
your impressions of farming
surreal cow shit
A menacing space.
Too empty and too full,
the space creates uneasiness
and awareness of the self.
Too empty to sit, too full to stand.
The conflict within a series of empty rooms
brings many fears that haunt the voyeurs to the fore
once they pass from the gallery.
Hidden underneath,
yet glimpses of those
eyes, lips, hair, beauty.
Before me, she stands,
a marble statue forever
etched into my memories.
Thoughts of Catholicism
from childhood days
burn through my heart.
Burning candles, flowers,
the smoke of incense,
her ecstasy on my skin.
A wanting, like a Giovanni
Strazza, as the pew bends,
candles flicker and vision fades.
Sitting and standing,
painting a still life of fruit.
The right light today. Fruits, once alive, become immortal on the canvas, as part of their being is forever alive in the paint and the brush.
A calm move through the studio as this place feels right today.
The last stroke moves along, and the canvas becomes something new; pieces of fruit are falling from an unknown place in the sea.
C & K 