Lines Upon a Page (LBN)

Jane Goldsack:

And here is my other half’s submission… with link to what it’s all about :)

Originally posted on Graeme Sandford:

I…

IMG_5141 edit 1

…am taking centre stage

(in an LBN – a little black number

which is slightly ‘off the wall’)

Am I on the right lines

As I preside over my court?

I focus upon the passers-by

who are by-passing the others to gaze

solely at my décolletage;

barely pausing at the collage next to me;

before also by-passing the purchasing of a single thing.

When suddenly, I descried someone wearing…

IMG_5140 edit 1

almost

the exact same creation as me!

Imagine my total loss of elation.

Just imagine!

I could have cried.

Now, side by side we stand;

IMG_5232

Imperceptible in our differences

almost

but, one of discerning tastes

Must have preferences…

Look at her page lines!

I, am the real

deal.

————————————————————-

This poem was inspired by the two delightful pictures above by the Natural Connections artist Sarah Louise Baker.

For more information, visit:http://www.hampshireartandcraft.org/community–fundraising-events.html

Picture
Picture
Picture
Saturday 8th November 2014, 6.30 – 8.30pm

An evening of…

View original 122 more words

Bespeckled Moonglow

My submission to Natural Connections.

I chose to write a poem inspired by the artwork of Russell Moreton.

566530_orig

Bespeckled moonglow
through rain-smeared windows
blurs reality with fantasy.
Azure glaze of lunatic spirit
smoothly drifts heavenward
across darkened cobalt skies.
Virga wisps seed virgin tears.
Indistinct, hazy crescent;
nebulous perceptions deny pure clarity.

Streams of consciousness

Jane Goldsack:

Beautiful words

Originally posted on Peace, love and patchouli:

You come to me
In Deepest slumber
Teaching
Reaching
Lessons of student and sky
To fly yet grounded
Document lost
Who I am
Nowhere to be found
On the higher plane
Conscious running free
Like clearest mountain stream
Slivers of silver reflected
Through the rushing movement
Emotion like slippery stone
Creating waves
From underneath
Below the surface there lies
A higher horizon of night to day
And caught in the middle
Between light and dark
The stream slips past silently
And in the moment of perfect solitude
The dawn of realization
That this is all
There needs to be
The here
The now
The who I truly am
A part of whole
Yet nothing at all
A speck
A grain
Of sand in time
Streaming form
Of memory.

View original