Wednesday, 22 April 2009

I forgot to take the camera to the workshop today, so i'm afraid its words not pictures tonight,hope you dont mind.


the crows are shiney
grown fat on roadkill
the grass blades
over hang the molehills
although i'm moving
it all seems still
I'm on my way to work

The hedgerow flowers
patterns changing
Growing budding
flowering ageing
seeding dying
all the stages
on the way to work

the yellowhammer
always singing
From the same post
music ringing
wondering what
the day is bringing
on the way to work

1 comment:

Becky said...

These words should be a song.


applewood lampshade

OLD

Its in the memory of birds this age
The post on which to perch to proclaim mornings glory
the spots of the past where the pickings are richest
the ancestors favourites ,the old places

Its in the roots of the trees this age
As they suck in the leaves as they fall
with some knowledge returning to earth to roots
to nature,to nurture, to be reborn

its in the stones the oldness
the mothers bones exposed less
where moss and lichens creeping hand paints steadily
and the birdsong is distant like fading memories

About Me

My photo
deepest, devon, United Kingdom
I don't know what I am but i know what i like.poetry, art and chipping at or joining together chunks of old wood,whilst listening to some good roots reggae or dub, world/folk music or blues all balanced by some good old punk rock.

solid oak post 3.5 feet high

rescued from collapsed original part of house in the dombseday book

I started with the natural bursts as eyes and soon got two faces

East,West Forwards and Back the green man is everywhere

The darker colours are the oxidisation of the exposed bits of outer timber over the many years

this piece took two months to carve.An allowance i made to myself for the first 2 months of this year.

which way to mordor