Writing from Art – a visit to the Wilson March 2017 Red tiles, over red brick Some more orange, others dirty brown The roof top sagging Under weight of baked clay Keeping assorted timber dry It warped and yearned Until men built of muscle came Sweat slicked Even in cold grey months They move and […]
Written in response to the exhibition in The Wilson Gallery, Cheltenham March 2017. Jagged drinks for the eye Landscapes of texture Dripping, sagging, oozing Peaking up frozen Wavelets Diminished into regularity Repeat, retrieve, remake Copies not exact Learning a scatter Of new from old Forms reborn Syntax looms in loops Half formed Floating on and […]
Brains switched on Axons firing Knowledge stores – ACTIVATED Commence writing!
I am hinged in the Middle I am a book with two front covers Two stories interleaved Ones upside down and back to front But flip me over And it’s the other way round I am a thought cascade I am an idea intrusion Scientist and Artist Creative mind Non-linear: mold breaker I am hinged […]
Turgid fire Strikes Lethargy Pulling Down To a soft Demise Melting ice Sublimed To steam Obliterating With liquid Slow flame
Insomnia has furnished me with a poem It banged in my skull Preventing sleep Until the pen I took in hand Hammering words to the page Creative upholstery On a word wood frame A poem has furnished me with insomnia
Potential thickens the air As much as pollutants in water vapour Choking us all in humility As another war is fought Out of sight Unknown to our media eyes The bodies mount and maggots spew Into the night eating dreams Of a tomorrow that may now Never be
There was a tower within the tower fractal within Models without Nested ideas Realities bloom Stars seen Astronomy folly Lonely on the hill Waiting Pregnant with itself Do you Paint, drawn, write Explore? There was a tower within a tower Modelled in the tower and so on and on Outside a sheep bleats And the […]
The Winter Depths (First published on Blue Monster) The cold freezes the air to solid form, coating the branches of the trees, starting from the smallest twig which become heavy under the white crystals. The night draws on and the day seems murky and insincere and then sometimes to have happened not at all. The […]
The Landscape is fetid Pastules rise from the ground Pulsing with sickly green I avoid them Skipping on stockinged feet Stripy and saggy Toe elongate A large witches hat Looms as a cathedral On the horizon before me Purple velvet The pile deep and luxuriant The tip a spire Reaching to a sky of pink […]