Armageddon, the aftermath.

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This acrylic painting came about because of a need to do something different, whilst thinking about the next painting. And of course, when in doubt, paint rust. The title says it all and the composition changed a few times as it evolved to end up in this somewhat simplified version. Nice to do something a little different it recharges the batteries and I suppose the subject is rather topical and worrying with the tension between North Korea on one side and Trump on the other.

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Blue

And why it’s said in midnights hue
To spin like tops inside of you
To paint the failings of your mind
In dappled shade of colour blind
The pointed fingers and hollow grin
The pain of living dwells within
Within the shell of empty dreams
The echo dead of silent screams
To yearn to feel that loving touch
The cost too high the price too much
In sad reproach you turn away
Another hour and one more day
One more day to wonder why
They laugh at all the tears I cry
A grey, grey sky, one shaft of light
To catch my eye and hold my sight
And here I sit to wonder why
One shaft of light in my grey, grey sky.

Art Nouveau 1

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This is a painting I did from a bust I bought at an auction recently and had the idea of trying to give it ‘life’ in a Mucha type of way. The bust is white plaster and is cropped at the shoulders, so there is some poetic licence in giving her breasts. It’s one of those paintings that the mind knows what is wanted and when the objectives are, BUT the paint brush is too stupid to understand that it is supposed to be well painted and ends up doing it’s own thing. (The paint brush must pay the ultimate sacrifice of course,  for being completely useless and must hurl itself into the dustbin forthwith!)

 

Terracotta V, The last Samurai.

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This is Terracotta V, the last Samurai.  It has been great fun painting these amazing figures, but I suspect this will be my last, I need to move on, lol. Maybe one day I will get to see them in China and that will rekindle my love of painting them, but for now, I will find new subjects that interest and make me want to paint them. Farewell warriors may you rest eternally and be the subject of amazement and wonder for all future generations.

Cemeteries.

Cemetery.

How many lives are we given to live in this one life of ours?
And how many loves are we given to love along the way?

Today I sat in a cemetery
The wind was so cold it was cutting
Leaves in glorious colours flew past on this cutting wind
Almost too colourful for a cemetery
Coppers, gold’s, bronzes.
Whoever painted those leaves knew their stuff
The long grass bent under the wind
Too flimsy, too weak to stand up to the tempest
The trees waved in protest
There were flowers everywhere
Single stems lay in precise places
Bunches in vases
Bunches carefully tied to trees
So colourful
So beautiful
So poignant
Some had little messages
Some long letters
There were teddy bears
There were greeting cards
It was quite sad
But it was comforting
Talking to the ones who left early can be comforting

The sky was gun metal grey
Clouds raced each other across the horizon
Hammering into one another
Sparking long lines of lightning
Rolling thunder booming over the land
And I sat with the ones who had gone early

Sometimes I think about things
Like
Isn’t it strange?
You are never frightened when you are holding hands
Like
Cuddles can heal so much
Sometimes I ask questions
Will I love again?
Or
Dare I love again?

I recall
How good it is to hold a hand
with no thought other than to be just holding that hand
I remember how soft a kiss can be
How much pleasure one can get from watching someone you love
doing nothing
I remember the saying
You don’t regret the things you do
You only regret the things you don’t do
I wonder who writes these things

You can’t lie in cemeteries
You have to tell the truth
I think it’s a rule
So when a question pops into your mind
You have to answer it

Life is so short

How many lives are we given to live in this one life of ours?
It was strange for me to realise there are lives within our lives.
And how many loves are we given to love along the way?

Is this our last life?
Is the person in your mind your next love?
Is the next love the last love?

I can see the rain in the distance
The sky hurling the downpour onto the earth
Thunder laughing at the misery it causes
Lightning, piercing, stabbing at unseen targets
I sat on the bench huddled up against the cold
I watch leaves dancing
Waiting for the rain
Autumn
For the trees
Autumn
For me
How many more chances?
How many more dances?

I stand and say my goodbyes
Blow a kiss or two
I’ll see them all again
One day
I turn
And set off to seek what is out there for me
Funny places cemeteries
Sometimes you get answers to questions you never knew you had.

 

The ant army.

The ant army

I was sat on a wall just musing
When an army of ants came along
With a lot of military hoo-hah
And a pagan victory song
They were led by a Colonel called Mustard
Who walked arm in arm with the queen
While the ant behind had a dead fly
To be eaten for supper it seemed
By two, by two, by twenty
With bugles, trumpets and drums
They marched and walked and stumbled
And occasionally wiggled their bums
Some carried leaves so enormous
They couldn’t keep up with the throng
Till a sergeant major in ant terms
Came back to push them along
Onwards and forwards they ventured
Over paths, up walls, around trees
While the old ants fell to the wayside
Tired feet, aching backs and old knees
The ants of the world they were marching
But not one of them knew as to where
And not one of them dared ask that question
Or maybe not one of them cared
Young ants were born on the route march
As the dead they were carried along
Ants went to school and then married
To the strains of an ant marriage song
Nothing it seemed could stop them
Their journey an energy stream
From here to the distant horizon
As one in search of a dream
A column of ants on a highway
A road only they could perceive
Their goal lay unseen in the distance
But it lived in their souls to believe
As the day slipped by so I watched them
A nation of ants on the move
Maybe ants being ants with no logic
Or a species with something to prove.