Beneath the rippled, sunlit glass,
I rest among the eelgrass blades,
A shadowed world where currents pass
Through quiet, emerald-tinted glades.
A gentle pulse draws in the tide,
Through open folds, the feast is spun;
I sift the sea where currents glide,
And take the bounty of the sun.
A sudden rush—a snapping spark—
I lift and dance upon the floor,
And vanish swiftly in the dark
To settle on the sandy shore.
Here, safe within my textured walls,
Away from cruising shadow’s eye,
Where peace defines the quiet halls,
The rushing world may wander by.
Adorned in ribbed and fluted grace,
Where painted bands of pink align
With lavender across my face,
The ocean's quiet masterpiece—
A living scallop...resting.
Artist: Henri Matisse
Painting: “Open Window Amalfi Coast Lemon Tree”
Canvas Art, Impasto Italian Seaside Town, Positano
Bright, vivid colors splash the Amalfi Coast
of a summer day in Positano, Italy.
Beneath the warm Italian sun, brushstrokes
capture the charm of both mountains and shore
dominated by the splashes of bright, golden fruit
that hangs from the fertile lemon tree.
Vision leads to a cluster of village homes
topped with terracotta roofs, contrasting
the pristine white siding, all nestled on the hill.
Heavy, textured strokes wake the sparkling sea-
the Mediterranean, dotted with sailboats
reflecting upon shimmering blues and greens.
And past a cobblestone path, which reflects
the vivid splashes of beaming, sunny colors,
boldly capture, with the Impasto technique,
suggested reflections on the water, pathway,
and building, bringing forth a feeling of reality
amid a dreamlike atmosphere of artistry.
The roller left a wet
Textured topography
On the drywall
A fresh
Continent
Of liquid chalk
Under a steady
Unblinking gaze
The gloss begins to warp
The fumes carry
A quiet hum, a frequency
That unlatches the deadbolt of the mind
My eyes
Track
A single, rebellious drip
A slow-motion comet
Cutting through
A matte sky
In the five seconds
It takes
To drop an inch
I have built
A city
In my head
Lived a lifetime
Inside a song
I forgot the title of
And wondered
If the sky
Feels this heavy right before it rains
The perimeter is curing now
Turning dull
At the edges
By the time
This surface
Loses its shine
I will have traveled
Lightyears
And forgotten my way back
Standing in front of a mirror
An unbiased jurist of me
Heavy wrinkles on the forehead
Typifying the crossed thresholds
Where did the soft textured hair go?
Turned brittle with the patchy beard
The skin lost glow and grew pallor
Represents the bygone decades
The eyes, still with vitality
Token of the contented life
Place: 3 rd
The delights of strolling through green parks,
to observe pristine lawn and serene pool,
interact or mingle with fellow ramblers,
share the joy of radiant sunshine,
and warm cheer induced by conversation,
sparked by kind stranger one never dreamed of,
nor imagined at the onset of a morning,
whose divine agenda set by vivid sky,
one might eschew whilst awash with visual,
scenic trees, shrubs, hedges, beget relish,
but without human contact and shared slant,
adornment on footpath, green pond insert,
quaint but charming cafe whose gourmet fare,
espresso sip and muffin tinted natter,
recall of vintage episode now whetted,
with zeal, zest, and zigzag zip,
a textured fabric of city grandeur,
bookstore whose friendly staff ooze warmth,
that well nigh impossible work one seeks,
or some shrewd advice from chance encounter,
Oh the joy I feel when I mingle
Flowers beneath my feet ever perfumed
When love freely flows from beautiful eyes
So sensual surrendering and bloomed
Wondrous and tender, basking in our sighs
Magical timeless moments to sustain
From soft textured love of truth shared as one
Where bliss warmly glows in our heart's domain
And the morning light bathes our skin in the sun
When we hear love whisper with each embrace
As this journey of love is ours to know
We'll steal kisses remembered and retrace
And open moist eyes to an afterglow
In our garden's amorous allurement
That enticed our souls with love's enchantment
PARTICULAR ATTRACTIONS
revived
traditions
in
perfect
outlines
of
simplified
exactitude
precise
&natural
textured
in
effective
graphic
practice
STUDY OF COLOUR -:-
notice
simultaneous
contrasts
interacting
harmoniously
together DRAWN
spontaneous
living
textured
evening
moods
of MOTIONLESS AWE
transparent
opaque
traces
dying
.6dead
certainty
a
peculiar
allusion
naively
encountered
in
juxtapositions
ignored
proxy
patterns
snugly
textured
bastions
of
lineage
resonates
with suspicion
in
a
perennial
metropolitan
renaissance
It's time means it's already past time
one day a babe in white satin cage
then, crow's feet and mahogany cane.
It's a two-hued day
within a Claude Monet sky
a little puff of gray
diamonds sitting softly
just beneath the clay.
Circles woven tighter
within each pulsing day.
They're fleeing us in clusters now
embers of this realm burn to powder
silver-haired orphans pushed to pray.
It's a two-textured day
amidst the robin's egg sky
little puffs of gray...
Diamonds whispering
just beneath the clay....
"weave me into your heart
before I drift away".
obscure
& figuratively
eccentric
polished
smooth
yet
a
stullified
distraction
grasping
the
transcendant
with
clarity
culicules
of
irony
textured
to
resemble
space
& light
enunciating
the
simple
intense
in
essence
an
unchanging
creative
focus
shadow
the
theatrical
possibilities
hollow. out
integrated
visions
to
commemorate
& mimic
the
emphatic
I feel it smoothly, gliding freely,
Liquid fluidity surging.
Not a fraction of too much friction,
An undulating path followed effortlessly.
Movement and balance allowing continuous flow.
A sense of harmony as the lubrication guides easily.
Embracing depth with no distraction.
No tension felt as if all melts with fluid energy.
A transition of like particles melding without abrasive motion.
A sleek silky transition is accomplished.
Liquid fluidity surges.
The artist textured an abstract artwork to the canvas.
Bold gradient strokes, are a pivotal attraction adding to the ambience.
Light, and layered emotion captivate through transitions and bold contrasts.
The paint melts across the canvas, intersected by frivolous bubbles and a masterful juxtaposition of cracked and fluid textures.
Each element from the fractured patterns to the luminous flow of paint, contributes to a sense of wonder of movement.
The more I gaze into this painting the more I see the effects of lubrication.
Imagining the paint is still actively moving freely on the canvas to a degree.
Tell Your wind
no need to roar,
my own need
push enough --
Tell Your Sun
high at its zenith,
no need for excess
gleamith --
Confound further
my soul
saying, for you, no
love to be found,
in painted sky
on textured ground --
If love, for me, not near
nor far-apart – Why, Dear Lord!~
gave You this poet
a beating heart?
The time of vibracy has dissolved
and the crust on my skin, tells me I'm old
days of plodding feet and passive motion
are upon me
my candlelight grows shorter as each day passes
and I become a fungus covered stump
slowly disintegrating
attentive to memories that I still hold
that have been naturally fermented
and cured over time
waiting for my vein raised withering days
to find me
where I'll seek these images of my life's dreams
lost or found
buried in the barrel of my mind
where I'll pluck the most textured ones
to savor, before time devours me
atop
a garden wall
striped marmalade throw
feline
lazy time
under sunshine
interlaced visions
a weaving
paws dangle in indolent ease
reach
underlay deep
whiskers sense sparrows
muscles tense in their plush
carpet shag
then
drowsy textile head slumps
sun-drying kitty-mat
basking
2 textured images twilled
to fade together forever
later
cat-rug carried away ~
sun settles in a deckchair
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