Saturday, September 27, 2008

Red-Horse Chestnut Tree 1989

My trustee garden friend towering and knowing,
Leaves splay and vibrate and bold in its pastel growings,
Pale creme blossoms adorn your leave clusters,
The insects visit and sample and muster,
Imagine the seasons and quick collection of sunlight,
I know you'll be there when I peer from the night,
Drawn up of the Spring and glances of the quicken dawn,
Your reliable and consistent and all have won,
Another year and growth have ringed a mark on your being,
The same of the human which left an older momument of seeing,
We are almost the same as we have limitations to our destiny,
Yeilding promises which are met and living life is best let be,
Autumn reveals your harvest and dropping green conkers to crack,
Your large red seeds are gathered by all with such knack,
The squirrels will stash and pat down in the lawn,
People will hoard too and make hallows eve adorn,
Tears dare not flow as I know you will go,
The leaves are of autumnual and brilliant all knows,
Painters who express, will play with the colours and not rest,
Oil of all hues, and quicken days, less light from their breasts,
And the artic flows which shock all without stress,
My brave Chestnut Tree now leaves fall and duress,
Snow is your shrine which will caress your form now,
Only in time will Spring revive you, the Warmth knows how.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Seven Geese Which Loll Around




Searching for a place to rest,
That day was filled with happiness,
Along came a Goose family, what beautiful birds,
Even a Swan elegantly shone across and trumpeted a word,
A Kingfisher and Eagles fished around the park,
Our children and others played and had a lark,
Time never remains still when one is having fun,
The Clock of the day will pace and test the sun,
Even the tide laps at your heel, and wets to content,
My oil work that day never fails, I find is God sent,
Emotions are remembered and memory please don't fail,
I send a romantic message adrift, which may prevail,
Tears can't be shared and blamed on the rain,
As never let a wonderful moment escape and be tamed,
Some around us, can be trusted I feel, but live life to the hilt,
And experience the knowing of joy-laughter, ones Soul is rich for the lilt.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Beached 2008

Have you ever arrived at a park or beach, with family and friends? Then silly individuals which don't know the fundamentals of navigation, or bother to research their tidal charts, changes of depth and currents of the waters in which they are boating, thus become stranded. They never even practice safety around water or respect the etiquette of others: in vessels, or even people enjoying the parks surrounding the mudflats and rivers in which they menace. One just ignores their boorish behaviour, while many people in the park laugh at them; some take pictures of the foolish boys and girls stuck there till high tide. They remind me once of a pack of dogs running loose and scaring and stressing the migratory tidal birds. The damage done to those tired birds actually resulted in altering their yearly rest stop, which I'm sure their predecessors have done for thousands of years. Finally, someone called a wild-life officer to fine the owner, then nasty words were exchanged, and a vehicle chase ensued. The outdoors is for peace and reflection in God's garden and bringing a friend always makes your day turn out differently.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Pickers Delight 2002

Once when I was painting a Wild Nootka Rosebush and the painting was nearly completed, two kids came by with pails and began picking the ripe rosehips. They exchanged stories of the delicious jams and jellies that their harvest would yield and I thought their plunder of the fruit was a bit too excessive. Oh, those meadowlarks, weaver-finches, sparrows and robins, which had fed upon those rosehips, and unselfishly entertained me all morning during my painting of this beautiful flower, should have been left more. Animals instinctively know never to deplete their food larders, while visiting all their favorite plants and stashes; and even in winter, the ones that don't hibernate or migrate South never go hungry.