Dust

Dust

22 May 2018

Storm woman Andy Bate

 

The night exhaled the scent of jasmine into her nostrils. She opened her eyes and peered into the darkness. She could hardly make out the outline of the jasmine tree’s branches. The pot with the tree had been removed by a friend who had taken the jasmine tree but the branches clung to the little hedge and still flowered. It was a curious thing to ponder on really. How those flowers could still bloom and the leaves still stay green while the tree had been snipped away from them was another of the mysteries of life. She went back inside her room where the darkness was thicker and lay her head on the pillow. She would check tomorrow if the leaves had begun to wither finally and she would then disentangle them from the hedge and cast them away.

The next morning was a gloomy grey morning as the dust from an oncoming sandstorm piled into the skies. She went to check the hedge and surely enough after their display of frantic desire to survive the branches were going limp and some leaves had turned yellow. The flowers too seemed withered and forlorn. She wondered if she should take them off right now or wait for all the leaves to become yellow before she would throw them in the bin. Looking at those desperate branches made her think of the eventuality of what consciousness went through when the body came to pass. Did all people’s consciousness linger desperately for a while without a body trying to find a way back into this life or unlike the flowers did they just stop blooming and join the collective consciousness the minute the body’s time ended ?

The dust in the air thickened and she could feel her throat going hoarse as the particles invaded her nostrils and found their way into her lungs. She sneezed as the wind picked up moving more dust her way. The branches heaved on the hedge and some of the yellow leaves flew with the wind before it settled bringing them to the ground. She reached out into the hedge and started easing the branches off it. As she piled the leaves into a heap, the wind picked up again and the branches scattered all across the pathway. The sky grew darker as more sand flew with the wind walling off the sun’s rays. She continued easing off the branches and finally gathering them together she cast them into the bin outside the gate. As she entered the house she could still smell the wane scent of jasmine mingled with the unmistakable sandy smell of the dust in the wind.

Dust in the wind – Melanie Safka

Weigh me scales

Weigh me scales

20 March 2018

scales pinterest com 2

 

Breath that clogs

Pores choking in dust

Seekers run

Flowers sink

Mind shunning all that is pink

Sinking into grey

 

Wanderlust

Opening music

Nimble hands

Fear disbands

Thoughts of everlasting love

Heart swelters above

 

Seal me scar

Watch me from afar

Weigh me scales

Fly me whales

Birthing anew chest inhales

Fallen shooting star

 

Reading of the poem: 

Chanson pour le petit moineau – Abel Korzeniowski

Evgeni’s Waltz (W.E) – Abel Korzeniowski

Song of Time – Abel Korzeniowski

Supernova in making

Supernova in making

10 December 2017

 

supernova wikipedia org 430453main_crabmosaic_hst_big_full
Courtesy wikipedia.org

 

Wildcard score

Hidden in the night

Throbbing core

Blinding door

Supernova in making

Silence beckons soft

 

Deltas spin

Around my bosom

Aching flowers

Waning hours

Serendipity watching

Renewed momentum

 

Tedium

Rearranging paths

Salted rain

Subdued pain

Explosions inside of me

Black hole takes over

 

 

Stepping Stars – David Arkenstone

 

Seventh aquarelle : Cherry blossom tree branch

Seventh aquarelle : Cherry blossom tree branch

24 August 2017

 

I am back to my initial challenge of 10 aquarelles and have taken as subject a cherry blossom branch given the recent synchronicity on cherry trees. This time I combined alla prima type of painting with wet on dry painting.

 

It occurred to me that just looking at pink made me cheerful. Perhaps that is where the French saying « voir le monde avec des lunettes roses » (meaning looking at the world with rose-coloured glasses) comes from  🙂

 

I hope you will enjoy the painting and the typical song I thought would accompany it well.

 

Cherry Blossom branch

Sakura – Japanese folk music

Fifth aquarelle and sketch

Fifth aquarelle and sketch

15 August 2017

fleurs rouges

This is my fifth aquarelle which has proven to be very ill-assorted to the alla prima technique as the paper was not behaving in the expected way. Upon testing all possibilities I realised I had painted on the wrong side of the paper. I was, however, too lazy to begin again the aquarelle on the other side so continued as it was.

 

The result is a very dry looking composition of flower. I hope you will not be too harsh in your judgement.

 

Meanwhile I also decided to take back sketching as a hobby and have produced this sketch. I find its not so bad considering I am self taught and this is done after several years of not drawing anything. I hope you like it.

 

Old man 1

Poem of the atoms – Armand Amar

Sui Generis

Sui Generis

13 June 2017

george-redhawk-13 on bored panda

 

Vibrating

Atoms of the wild

They bestow

Growth in child

The flowers a shade incline

Invite to divine

 

Brittle spine

Makes with the alters

Shift a node

In the road

The shimmer recalls Elders

Walking in moonshine

 

Talking birds

Peep on window sill

The waters

Purified

Breathless tumble from the hill

Sui Generis

 

Reading of the poem: 

George redhawk on gfycat com in the wings

Images courtesy George Redhawk

Voice of the Heart – La Musica De Los Dioses

Weaving compassion

Weaving compassion

2 June 2017

weaving pinterest bojan Jevtic
Courtesy Bojan Jevtic on pinterest.com

 

Flowers bloom

Piercing days of gloom

Daffodils

Run through hills

The sun lights daily passion

Weaving compassion

 

Reading of the poem: 

Weaving art kaleidoscope Bojan Jevtic
Courtesy Bojan Jevtic on Art Kaleidoscope

Breath of Ma – Shaman’s Dream