DEGAS DELIGHTFUL DAMES
Edgar Degas did not mingle
so shy he remained single
His art self contained & absorbed
perfect though expensive 'daubs'
Dancers everywhere
to pose on toes
& as art lover knows
PAINTING After wise words of Degas
so,so easy to do..
when we don't know how,
so,so true..but
so,so dificile..
when we do!
Autumn Highlights
the
blooms
silvering
shimmering
in
patches
of sunlight
daubs
of colour
midst
the frigid
frost
of
fall:
cursory
change
shapes
all
our
lives
Dreams
sweet flow
hue’d treasure
cocoon one’s sleep
spells
dreams
fond wish
rapt vision
spot on target
spells
spells
bewitch
and taunt
flagging psyches
charms
hues
bright daubs
on pallette
Tincture limp eyes
shades
May laughs at winter's spelt envy—
The blacks once bled on a snow-white bed
are now shed, long dead, to wed
with bright spring colors instead.
Green shoots rise to pinks, reds, and yellows
in flower blossom heads
spreading as resplendent daubs
on the white canvas shroud
that winter left
to cover its dead.
They closed the corner store some time ago
the ciggies by the two we now forgo
our lucky bags now a recollection
as is browsing in the comic section.
Mechanics' Social Club no longer stands
their topless barmaids, striving local bands
and Sunday morns' all-comers talent show
both pubs have closed, there's nowhere left to go.
They closed the corner store some time ago
finally called the time and stopped the show
The cafe, bank the chemist shop, all gone
the street is quiet, not much going on.
We'll have a Tesco store sometime, they say
we know they're sure to place it far away
you'll need an Uber car, too far to walk
We'll miss the bench where you could stop and talk.
They closed the corner store some time ago
Nail salons and vape stores, now come and go
barbers, bookies empty charity shops
you see the homeless sleep, you see no cops
once walking up and down the street in pairs
graffiti daubs, the windows smashed, who cares?
An out-of-towner builds an HMO
inside the corner store we used to know.
Light arrives from its flight
wheeling behind its suitcase of shadows,
exposures, echoes and consequences.
It spills its hoard across the floor,
and gathers remnant dark
remains from dim corners.
It daubs and stitches
black silhouette capes and patches
behind all it passes.
These shadowy figures are light's wind vanes
tracing where its being seen.
Light reveals the cracks, dents, dust and flaws
hidden by unrealized expectations.
It dusts the scene for fingerprints
and other forensic traces
bringing all the hidden
unseemly before and afters
into stark relief.
Nothing escapes light's black valise
carry-on bag.
“The fervent garden grieves as the frail flowers called love
enwrap the shards of broken heart” – Quote by poet
The rhapsody of rainbow morphs into morose mélange,
bleeding colors bleached from the twilight zone clouds
that rainstorm daubs as blemish on dilapidated essence
when the shades of grey paint the frayed linen of love.
The requiem of roses resonates in melancholic medley,
the petals pine for dripping tear drops of mourning dew,
desiccating in somber sunshine in the deserted mind,
while the fallen flowers make frail bouquet of passion.
Cacophony encapsulated in the cauldron of mute melody,
chaotic symphony dismantles on the discord waves of desire.
Strained smiles sneer the scarred scenario of the senile life,
music turns to convoluted noise echoed by the battered soul.
As you drift away blowing a devastating storm of apathy,
my fervor is fragmented to lie in the debris of ecstasy.
The lattice of life seen through the languid cynic lens
magnifies into the crooked contortion of decrepit heart.
It lies in between two moods,
with sighs of seas, and breath of skies,
not quite green, with a little dose of blue,
a mid-dream hue, for dainty touch-ups,
to revitalise those bluesy daubs and splashes
Rhapsody of rainbow
morphs melted
into morose mélange,
scattered in sullen sky.
Bleeding colors bleached
from twilight cloud
ruinous rainstorm daubs
as derelict blemish
on abandoned shards
of broken heart.
Shades of blue
permeate pining
frayed linen
of lost love.
Requiem of roses
resonates profound
in melancholic concerto.
Drooping petals languish
for dripping tear drops
of mourning dew,
desiccating dismayed
in somber sunshine
in deserted mind,
where for bracing
cold desolate stone
fallen flowers
make bouquet
for deceased passion.
Cacophony capsuled
in suffusing cauldron
of mute melody,
lost in tempestuous sea
of incongruent tune,
chaotic symphony
dismantles harmony
on discordant waves.
Synthetic smiles sneer
scarred scenario
of lonesome life.
Sanguine songs turn
to convoluted noise,
echoing in solemn soul.
Lattice of life
seen through
languid cynic lens
magnifies mystified
into crooked contortion
of eschewed essence.
The unseen maestro, the wily whistling whisperer,
Cunningly twirls a sway in the bending trees,
Dabs, daubs and draws impasto clouds in the sky,
Lilts, entices, leaves to dance in tune, as it whistles on by.
The field of grass compliant, bends to lithe gusts sly.
Laughing to tickling tongue secrets, beholden in every sigh.
The wind teases waves, torments lakes to ripples.
Their surfaces combed and drawn to rugged stipples.
The wily whisperer winds its way into cracks and holes.
Creating drafts that shake the drapes like ghostly souls.
Defying all attempts to block their breathy intrusion.
You can feel it breathing in and out, expiring confusion.
Oh wily wind, your whispers collude and unwind,
The peaceful slumber of earth and heart entwined.
where the pipeline meets the lake
spewing sewage in its wake
several snowdrops grow and help to paint God’s earth
and as acid rains from clouds
upon the litter strewn by crowds
lines of daffodils speak more than words are worth.
next to piles of household waste
tipped by those who fly in haste
there are bluebells growing wild on urban floors
and as plumes of factory smoke
suffocate disperse and choke
there are birds migrating to these hallowed shores.
where graffiti daubs the wall
of society’s wrecking ball
there’s a patch where tulips dance beneath our sky
and as shards of broken glass
lie in pieces on the grass
two young lovers holding hands walk slowly by.
"To look at the world without purpose is to stare into space"
The morning's lambent light illuminates my window
and daubs shadows on its sill, from the leaves of trees,
that rise and fall when disturbed by the wind.
This hole in my wall is where I escape,
to welcome the coming of dawn.
I will sit quietly and contemplate while being a witness,
to where my eyes are drawn.
This morning the grass is covered in dew,
it sparkles and glistens from dawn's first light.
I watch its soft glow wash across the wet grass
and welcome a new day that appears bright.
With my window open I can feel the breeze.
My thoughts become peaceful and at ease.
Diluted ink blots
splashed
at random
mingle
as improvised
calligraphic doodles
Spontaneous
accidental drips
drop to & fro
Daubs pressed upon
the virgin white
Wet,wet colour
a sponge
soak-stained
a
happening
in memory's
drawer
of the moment
forever frozen in time
Rhapsody of rainbow morphs to morose mélange
Bleeding colors bleached from the twilight cloud
Rainstorm daubs as blemish on the broken heart
The shades of grey paint the frayed linen of love.
Requiem of roses resonates in melancholic medley
Petals pine for dripping tear drops of mourning dew
Desiccate in somber sunshine in the deserted mind
Fallen flowers make bouquet for deceased passion.
Cacophony capsuled in the cauldron of mute melody
Chaotic symphony dismantles on the discord waves
Strained smiles sneer the scarred scenario of lone life
Songs turn to convoluted noise echoed by the soul.
The lattice of life seen through the languid cynic lens
Magnifies into crooked contortion of distorted essence.
Edgar Degas did not mingle
so shy he remained single
His art self contained & absorbed
perfect though expensive 'daubs'
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