And the oven hums.
Dishes swish in water,
Then bang to dry.
A voice demands
That all will go well
With her latest creation.
An hour ago it was peace,
Now there is noise
Of efforts to please
Those who come tomorrow,
Who do not know
What awaits them.
She loves to surprise.
I paint, you see,
And I draw, but not as well.
Colour is the thing
For expressing my emotion of the moment;
Beauty, anger, ugliness, joy.
Mood has shown itself in paint
For a third of a lifetime.
The challenge is primary,
Secondary if you wish.
History through art on canvas,
Landscapes in galleries,
Abstracts in exhibitions.
Tones, shades and tints are my weapons.
Hundreds of paintings fill my house.
Where will they go when I fade away?
They are my memories,
But probably for no-one else.
Gentle waves surrounded the sandy shore
Beneath a cerulean sky
With tiny creamy clouds.
White boat bounced in the sheltered bay
Affront the nearest hills of Bryher.
We were the only people there.
It was tranquil; it was beauty to our eyes.
Such peace is precious
In a busy world.
I breathe deeply and I sigh
As I remember the day.
Acrylic on canvas, 24×20″. Painted for Howlands Baptist Church in the U.K.
This is written as a ‘kenning’ which is a Norse/Icelandic verse form that describes something without naming it.
long grass cutter
**This poem is in ‘minute’ form devised by the*
*American poet Verna Lee Hinegardner**
One summer day on Milford Beach
our fingers reach
to share our love
‘neath sun above.
My heart grows warmer as you smile,
your eyes beguile
and let me know
that ease will grow
between us here in this fond place.
It is the case
as we grow old,
love’s truths unfold.
Stopping to look in a window
Is the child’s way of dreaming
Of things that might be
At the foot of the bed tomorrow.
The list was sent to who knows where,
And wishes made known to all.
Have they listened, these bringers of bounty?
Will they satisfy on Christmas Day?
Glinting bangles, snuggly scarves, the latest toy?
Or a game to play with mum and dad?
A football, a dressing doll, a box of paints?
The window confronts eyes that desire.
Not only children think this way,
For surprises are a treat for us all,
A way for love to be shown,
And flashes of happiness in winter.
Sleep comes slowly this night.
The savour of the morrow
Takes its toll on all
Who give or receive the gifts.
But then it’s five o’clock!
Time to see what’s there
Inside the teasing paper and ribbon.
Yes! I knew they would.
Heart’s desires content for the moment,
The child is happy and glad
That Christmas is here once more,
And of course there are presents to give.