Stories are told
In a thousand variations
As words paint
A scene not present
siblings of passion ~ Love and Hate
argue like unruly children
in precipitous conflict
yet, never will the nest empty, because
they...are OUR conscience
~ one cannot destroy the other,
nor ignore the other, because
they are of one blood
whose greatest toxin is
indifference...
so...torn asunder, they must find
a way to make two ~ one...
Understand the colours,
Listen to the whispers,
Push beyond the contours,
Find tranquillity in the hues.
Colours reach out to us;
They encourage us to embark on a journey,
Exploring the depths of existence,
Discovering the mysteries of imagination.
Trapped within the painting are the perplexities and complexities of the mind.
Hidden in the artwork is the silent cry of the troubled.
Something in the painting beckons us to pause and reflect;
This leads us through a door into the universe of mysteries.
Colours are the beauty of the day in the summer glow;
They aid imaginations to blossom and grow.
Sometimes, paintings reflect what dwells within us.
Colours and paintings are the inseparable ink of creativity.
December 20, 2025.
Horses, spiders, dragons, fat cats
Hippies, pirates, witches, black bats
Flowers, mushrooms, clouds and such
I love my paintings very much
Cartooning is a language I love to speak
My paints are fluorescent, the brightest peak
I have so much fun drawing up the fey
Painting enlightens me every day
If my paintings came to life
I would be surrounded by ninjas, elves, faeries, gardens,
Mermaids, bees, spiders, bunnies, dragons and mice.
Owls would roost on every table in my living room.
No one else can take credit for this.
All eighty-eight paintings in this room are mine.
Romantic moments caught in paint
I am but the poems I write
I am but the paintings I paint
I am but the songs I sing
I am but the seeds I plant
So many things I am
So many things I am not
I have no end in mind
But to end where I began
I am who I am
Her story she wished to repaint
With each step, she refined a stroke
Striving to create a perfect picture
An abstract, where every feeling is captured.
In her old portrait
Black was dominant and vibrant
Seeping into every corner of her canvas
Even surpassing the edges.
The paintings of her soul
She sought to redo
Crafting a masterpiece
With an entirely different theme.
Her old self she would reflect
But this time, her portrait would be named
Like the great painting of Mona Lisa
Every inch of her, glorified.
Have you ever walked in front of a picture in the eyes follow you at every angle
the blank face
of loneliness
catches the mood
&speaks aloud
a unique moment
in time
captured in paint
so difficult
to pin down
those ethreal
butterfly moments
we all experience
the human condition
on young frozen faces
mirrored
in images
posed pictures
asking &
left for imagination
to fill in
& join up
the dots
a
tear
& a sigh
of what might have been
the
so sad
memories
of a lady
in green
His
young life
a forfeit-
&
singleness her
cross
The Met* has an exhibit,
Cypress paintings by Van Gogh.
We joined the crowds and went to see
This most amazing show.
Like all the other patrons,
We snapped photos on our phones,
Except for one lone painting,
Which a rich collector owns.
A guard stood right beside it;
He was there to oversee.
“No photos of this painting!”
He repeated frequently.
The owner said he’d lend it
If no cameras were allowed,
A tough condition to enforce
Before a growing crowd.
But people were complying
When they heard the watchman’s plea,
With so many other cypresses
To photograph and see.
*Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC
Surrounded by my paintings around my desk,
Closest one I see the missile launch pad painting,
Under the dark Hawaiian Island skies,
Lighted palm tree and the streak of missile path,
Spent thirty years working there, relates to my heart.
Next, I watch a Bob Ross style painting,
A snow-capped cabin, land and all the trees,
The sky is crimson, with a hazy sun,
Its so serene, it invokes my tranquil thoughts.
Moving along, I am on the banks of a river in Bengal,
On one side, a deer stands looking at the water, afraid to drink,
A tiger stands growling on the other side of river,
My instructor wanted harmony, and suggested they should not be on the same side of river,
Next, a painting of our city manmade lake,
With the bald California mountains overlooking the lake,
The willow tree, oak tree, and a cherry tree, along the sidewalk,
Pair of ducks wading in water, seagulls resting little further away,
Seagulls and geese flying overhead, the scenery made my day.
Cozy crimson sky highlighted
Clouds, in corners, gold ignited
Cranes and cuckoos fly exited
Wherefrom is this ringdove?
Compassion in thoughts, words, and deeds
Complying with kind nature's needs
Cosmos cultivates complex seeds...
Is there, midst, a foxglove?
Calmness carves the clandestine cores
Cardinals commence carefree tours
Calcites and corals hug in scores
Cool breeze is on the move
different pictures
painted with many colours
the seasons to watch
paintings are abstract
brilliant and always attract enigma
a landscape enact
while at cinema
we had smelled hard enigma
will need enema
after we reviewed
agreement must be renewed
or problems be ensued
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