Personally all I paint is people. I wonder all the time why I don’t do landscapes, and often I tell myself it is because there is no emotion in landscapes. With these features today, I hope to prove myself wrong. Today’s features are all about the landscapes, and how an artist can paint or capture emotion in them. The poetry selected today somehow uses imagery of land or sky to capture emotion.
The Rising by hollyann
wake up day
is glowing with new promise
the pale lavender edge
to a magnificent dark blue
we breathe in
the morning sky
is bidding us rise
and make your day
for the beauty
of this world is
are grains of sand
filling it up
at the shore
we still exist
an earthly dawn
fuelled by last night’s
and find your feet
Painted in Sunlight
A delicate shape
Defined by the glow
Of the early Sunrise
If I were an artist
I would paint you using
Only a brush of sunlight
For only the most beautiful
Of golden light
Would be worthy of you
This is our untamed wilderness
the yin yang of our landscape
our day sighs while evening creeps
sunny warmth turns dark and cold
dim shades and chilly grimness grows
eating away joy’s hues in autumn glow
this is us in a rich vivid display
a truthful rendition in color of
emotions in contradiction
mere puzzlement of intent
a quagmire of uncertainty
a paradox of intentions
this picture complete
so precisely balanced
black night is fast approaching
will reap the day, bury us soon
and I ponder the cycle of love
yin so worthless without yang
is it just me or does all of this
still deliver a spectacular image?
Trees gift a shimmering voice
to the free blow of wind.
From rough roots dark water oozes,
flooding thickened trunks,
branches, twigs and stems,
bleeding flat to brighten
And as wind-blown twigs tremble,
leaves shimmy and clatter,
spewing oxygen bursting
mist into air,
freshening sky-birthed breath
to soak into bodily cells,
until brains dimple and dazzle
with bright Light of Life.
I dreamed that I was carried,
I dreamed that I was dropped.
I dreamed I had one red balloon,
And then I dreamed it popped.
I dreamed a thousand toothless smiles
Sang see-through lullabies.
I dreamed an antique white haired crow
Ate poison butterflies.
Dream strangled by a spider’s web
Dream laughed at by a fox
Dream drowning in a pool of grass
Dream swallowing sharp rocks.
I dreamed the yell of “WALK THE PLANK”
And dancing off the edge.
You caught me as the sharks did snap
Your palm, to me a ledge.
I dreamed you drew a candle.
Dream nailed it to my wall.
It came to life and burned for real
Through the red smoke I crawl.
I dreamed I had a backwards clock
Tick-tocking in reverse.
But none the less you’ll arrive late
My daydream mind I curse.
Tonight I know I’ll dream again,
But now I know what matters.
When I dream, my dream’s a wish
It breaks my heart, it shatters.
at the end of the day there is no one other than you
i would come home to. the mirrors of the shop windows
bend to break the shattered illusions and rejoice
in the simple art of breathing. the witche’s cauldron
of gentle fire rushes and brushes past the crowds moving
on and off the platforms,
as we shed our skin to the grey slanting rain
your fingers slide into my fingers
as the glove of heart’s contentment.
tomorrow is passion, where hot bread with a soft centre
and crunchy on the crust, is cut up into squares to drop into
vegetable soup. a cat will purr in delight at the fresh kill
of a wood spider
and when the rain stops, change will dry up the muddy puddles that only the day before
soaked our socks right down to the heel.
with whiskey dry hands we retire to our thirsty
exchanging of keys in the lock
before switching off front- porch lights. at the end of the day
I only want to be awoken at night to your sharp coughing
and the sound of embers emitting joy, as it is here
in all that you are.