Painter writer sketcher doodler and prolific dotter. I am not a writer I just like to write. I have been penning for four years now and it has been my saviour. I have read out loud my poems twice and hate the sound if my own voice. Fav poets. Naruda (a dog has died) Edwin Morgan (strawberries) Lewis Carroll hiawathas photographing Bill Kearn (entrapment) hysterical ! Maya Angelou. Men. And mommas welfare role Oh and le too notch! Oscar Wildes the Ballard of Reading Goal I've read that so many times.
Autumnal Tease.... (Goes with my sketch) Deep within the emerald, jaded summers days Whilst Mother Nature dances Exotically lays In the eyes and minds of human folk Autumn Elf clambers up Deep amongst the trees To whisper words To tempt her From summers verde beam At first she is easily distracted As a beautiful fledgling flirt Yet slowly Through Autumns persistent promises He softly tempts her She settles down beside him engrossed in smouldering embers mirth And whilst his teasing Tongue and breath Does tinker on her cheek The cloak of limes and lemon trees Does Very Slowly Slip To reveal one precious summer bronzed shoulder (at this point) Autumn Elf Aware his seduction does so succeed He offers up his golden cap Whilst bowing on one knee As after all she is his queen The one for whom he yearns And waits silently within the trees For her glorious return. Loosing My Mind Slowly... I'm going to write a poem Coffee Doorbell What was I doing? ----------------------------------- Poetry Groups and Aaron Jumpers... Red checkered carpet and mahogany wood dominate Guinness, beer and wine stand politely Reflective The eclectic gathering of minds and smiles Litter the room as left over christmas baubles While one voice swoons across the ceiling to fall on ravenous ears Smiles in therapy And memory slip over the rickety stiles of childhood As eyes wide shut dance or skipping hypnotically As an exuberant uncontrollable child on a windy day Create their own beautiful masterpieces from the words lain for all to dream A sigh A scratch A rustling peanut packet to distract The odd glance searching the sea of eyes for recognition, acceptance, hope or a mere smile Where aaron jumpers distract Why do aaron jumpers make one think of catalogues, hearty meals and most of all love The love of huge warm arms swinging you around in adoration Sheer exhilaration at really being in love Why do aaron jumpers and A scottish poets words create Grey seas frothy cream licking the rocky skirt of the lighthouse Red and white solid safety which Perfectly beckons me And the poem did that and the mind did follow joyously The words laid down by A man died two years ago Why did he have to die 2010 just before i heard of him And now i must search his words in past tense And almost hero worship The man from Edinburgh and the visions he gave me By the sea I shed one tear ------------------------------------------------- Plz Note This is about my visit tonight to a poetry group and how reading and your own imagination dance arm in arm..... Every poets words are half the painting to be completed by the fresh eyes which read on...my theory anyway My reaction to Edwin Morgan's beautiful write strawberries ----------/-/-
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