January 27, 2021
by Jem Croucher

Emily Kame Kngwarreye
loved colour with a passion
with acrylic paint to canvas
like it was going out of fashion
and in eight years to an end of life
she captured there ‘the dreaming’
three thousand plus enlightenments
and each with hidden meaning
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Posted in Jeremy, Photos, Poetry |
1 Comment »
June 15, 2020
by HemmingPlay

A writer of modest talent can only hope one day to put together a word or two—on a rare week, a phrase—that’s worth keeping. This is not the conceit of petty perfectionism. This is just the reality of having a mediocre vision that cannot totally grasp what floats in and out of view. It’s the curse of having an mind’s eye that comes close enough to see the possibilities dimly, but does not quite have that extra something that would make it all clear. The curse of the ‘if-only’. The torture of the dreamer who is granted a taste of a truth in the night but loses it upon wakening. The humility of Moses on the border of the promised land who may not cross over, no matter the sacrifice. And virtue is no guarantee. The world often rewards those of questionable credentials.
It’s a frustration that has to be managed—The gap between what might be glimpsed, a brief impression of something sublime and the skill that, were it a painting, only manages stick figure drawings.
So the experience is one of enduring the sense of of constant failure —even accepting it as the price— to press the cheek up against the foggy glass that keeps one just beyond the truth…. Throwing the lariat a thousand times at a stallion that prances just out of reach, hoping that one more throw will tame the beast and bring him nearer, to feel the heat and the true wild life of him. Yet still, as seems to be the way of the Plan, It is a way to learn humility, and patience and forgiveness. Nothing need be wasted, and the great wheel grinds always, and grinds exceedingly small.
That’s the job. Putting up with failure long enough to feel the hot breath of something beautiful. It is insanity. But oh, so seductive.
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Posted in Doug, Poetry |
2 Comments »
June 29, 2019
by Jem Croucher

Rustic, these sculptures
turn their heads to the sky
be it grey or bright blue
with clouds floating by
In our garden their splendour
brings pleasure each day
Each unique and quite gorgeous
in their own special way
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Posted in Jeremy, Photos, Poetry |
2 Comments »
October 2, 2018
by Richard Rensberry, author at QuickTurtle Books® and booksmakebooms.com

Autumn
So many things
are vulnerable to cold—
the cucumber’s crisp
and my sweet basil’s toes,
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Posted in Poetry, Richard |
2 Comments »
June 28, 2018
by Jem Croucher

We had an open house this year
Adur Arts in June
Three weekends with Sally’s glass
displayed in the front room
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Posted in Jeremy, Photos, Poetry |
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February 21, 2018
by Jem Croucher

He’s just one of four
by Elizabeth Frink
looking down on me now
as I sip a hot drink
‘The Desert Quartet’
adorn the arcade
there from the eighties
when they were made
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January 27, 2018
by Alanna

“You could sell those”
a familiar phrase
then watch my passion
turn to drudgery
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Posted in Alanna, Poetry |
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January 21, 2018
by Jem Croucher

Amongst the towering walls of glass
the concrete and the steel
a sculpture hanging in the trees
is calming and genteel
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December 15, 2017
by Jem Croucher
2 of 5 in the Jemverse ‘Poets’ series

In the small hours I sat
with my pen and I wrote
for the words were just flowing
and worthy of note
And they weren’t telling stories
at least, not ones of fiction
yet their eloquence still
came alive with their diction
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Posted in Jeremy, Photos, Poetry |
2 Comments »
November 9, 2017
by HemmingPlay

I wanted to be Steve Jobs
I wanted to be Joni Mitchell
I wanted to be Leonard Cohen
I wanted to be Carl Sagan,
Bobby Kennedy.
I wanted to be that person,
the one they’ll say years from now,
“yeah, whatever happened to him?”
The way people do, about certain
Rare, shining talents, like Joni, or Steve,
Or Carl. Mystery
that can’t be explained.
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Posted in Doug, Poetry |
3 Comments »
November 5, 2017
by Alanna
There is no word for art in their language
It is infused in the fabric of their culture
Adorning their bodies and homes
With sacred symbols
On baskets, clothing, totems, rocks
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Posted in Alanna, Poetry |
3 Comments »
September 2, 2017
by Anita Lubesh

I am the keeper of lost things,
those intangible imprints of wasted life,
destined to become the destroyer of goodness
and maker of sadness.
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Posted in Anita, Poetry |
5 Comments »
August 30, 2017
by thereluctantpoet
By Charles Robert Lindholm
Poetry =
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Posted in chuck, Poetry |
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August 27, 2017
by helenmidgley
Posted in Helen, Poetry |
1 Comment »
August 9, 2017
by ladyliterati
~ Haiku
Poppy fields abloom
Scarlet fuses the color wheel
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Posted in Haiku, O'Prunty, Poetry |
2 Comments »
July 30, 2017
by markfahmy

art still lives
sometimes in frames
sometimes in streets
sometimes in the waters of our veins
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Posted in Mark, Poetry |
3 Comments »
July 29, 2017
by thereluctantpoet
By Charles Robert Lindholm
Poetry =
Me
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Posted in chuck, Poetry |
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June 27, 2017
by helenmidgley
Posted in Helen, Poetry |
6 Comments »
June 26, 2017
by Jem Croucher

Went to Brighton to see the original
on short loan from the Tate
It’s quite a lot bigger than the one on my wall
and to see it there was great
A Constable retrospective
representing four years’ toils
When he lived right here in Brighton
with some drawings and some oils
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Posted in Jeremy, Photos, Poetry |
1 Comment »
June 9, 2017
by helenmidgley
Posted in Helen, Poetry |
1 Comment »
May 14, 2017
by helenmidgley

Text & Adaption : Helen Midgley
Original Photo : https://morguefile.com/creative/cohdra
Posted in Helen, Poetry |
3 Comments »
April 1, 2017
by braveandrecklessblog
I see you
Yes, you poet
You who lives
Behind the misty veil
Dwelling in the border
Between this world
And a hundred other
Shadow worlds
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Posted in Christine.R., Poetry |
17 Comments »
April 1, 2017
by braveandrecklessblog
blue
blue is the color
of my sadness
not robin’s egg blue
too bright
too cheery
not navy blue
too flat
too traditional
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Posted in Christine.R., Poetry |
6 Comments »
January 25, 2017
by The Cheesesellers Wife
Brush in hand
I decide on the first stroke
Relieved to have got this far
Having chosen what to paint
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Posted in Kim, Poetry |
7 Comments »
January 14, 2017
by HemmingPlay

A Cherokee Fable
One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, “My son, the battle is between 2 “wolves” inside us all.
One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.
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Posted in Doug, Poetry |
6 Comments »
December 17, 2016
by markfahmy

The thing about life is,
that you never know..
You never know who you hurt with the words you spoke,
or whose heart you accidentally broke.
You never know who you damaged every bit of their soul,
or whose shine you mercilessly stole.
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Posted in Mark, Poetry |
9 Comments »
November 21, 2016
by Jem Croucher

We brought a David Hockney print
and hung it on the wall
An early Christmas present
to be admired by one and all
It’s from a London retrospective
at the Royal Academy
to which just under four years past
we went, my wife and me
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Posted in Jeremy, Photos, Poetry |
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November 18, 2016
by helenmidgley
Posted in Helen, Poetry |
3 Comments »