I would often wander through the Tate
walking round the galleries and halls
admiring all the portraits
pictures and artwork on the walls
it was almost quite the hobby
then a painting I espied
of a proper Peeler a British Bobby
arresting is not denied
corporal punishment is implied
I admit would you believe and have to say
the stripes on his sleeve were a giveaway
but I was unfamiliar
with the artist responsible
as the vignette was neither a Sargent
and yet no more a Constable
CONSTABLE WEATHER EYE
displays
of bravura vigorous
bracing
washed in tranquillity
glistening
treasures
of celestial dramas
changeable climates
blustery
exhilerating
in
white highlights
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
John Constable famed for his Haywain
later loved painting the wind&rain*
in many ways ahead of his time
&with which conniseurs of art still chime
*https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/constable-cloud-study-n06065
Suffolk's landscapeer John Constable
was both talented& able
His art 'eye salve' is a veritable treat
he called it more savoury than sweet
* judge for your self here. https://www.wikiart.org/en/john-constable/rainstorm-over-the-sea-1828
Maria was John Constable,love of his life
waiting seven years to make her his wife
Seven children she bore her dear John
sadly at 40 caught tb ,died & was gone
*pic of maria painted in her wedding year http://www.john-constable.net/portrait-of-maria-bicknell/
My next-door man was a postman
He stunted gimmicks like Tarzan
I met a constable
And told him my trouble
He said, “I can’t treat your ailment”.
Syllable count: 8, 8, 6, 6, 8 (I used howmanysyllbes.com to count syllables.)
a passion for nature
wanderings concentrated
in a
singleness of purpose
in a
passion for painting
of a
parochial persuasion
relived
again&again
a light-drenched world
through
the screen of magination
realized
full of meaning ground&sky
flowing in design
transfigured
contrasted
history recorded
¬ed
naturalised
forever in paint
RIP Police Constable Keith Palmer 2017.
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author
Who shall we bury today?
Who has been taken away?
Not me yet I’m pleased to say.
So I can write these words today!
As we mourn loved ones lost.
Or friends we knew, in days gone past.
Lost to us but not high above!
Where innocents go to be loved.
Cry not more tears, I beg of you.
Remember me as you should do.
The last time you were full of glee.
Remember that time you spent with me.
We mourn a special man today.
Killed on duty policing I say.
Policing outside our country’s Parliament.
Unarmed on duty in these days of torment.
In heaven, he will surely take his place.
Head held high, with no disgrace.
So when we all pass Saint Peter’s gate.
Don’t be surprised to see his face.
Of course off-duty he will not be.
Saint Peter’s gate is so busy.
Yet all who queue to enter there.
Cause no trouble I do declare.
So when we finally do die.
Shake his hand, will you and I.
For he did not die in vain!
At Saint Peter’s gate he is on duty again.
Constable
To pinpoint or to finger a Constable
Is treasonous and abominable
Dockets and summons may state:
‘Charged for subverting the State!’
Reorientation my men deserve
They know no longer who to serve.
They fast run with the swift hare
Sharing its calamities of the snare
Then hunt with the ravenous hound
Whose victims are death-bound.
Could he have trained to chase
And not to analyse the case?!
JM
09th February 2014
trees
sunlight
shadowed
streams
English
through
and through
from
memory
drawn
from
local
scenes
first hand
true
and
true
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