Wishing A Very Merry Christmas 2010!

Finn Creek Provincial Park 1996

The quick moving waters of Finn Creek is located on the North
Thompson River. This is a small watercolour with ink drawn
into the paint surface to create that sense of motion.

Our painting party of ten had quite a difficult climb down the side of the cliffs to the creek bed. But we all came back with some interesting paintings that day.

French Beach 2004

In the summer of 2004 I went to visit some friends at Sooke. Later on that day I took a car ride to Jordan River and did some hiking on the trails at French Beach Park.
Sitka spruce and red cedars were wonderful in those forests overlooking French Beach. I walked the beach soon after and completed this small watercolour.
The waters of the Strait of Juan de Fuca were cold but I added lots of warm colours to this painting just to create some mood in this composition. And the reflection off the watercolour paper was pleasant on my eyes as the light was soft that day too!

Koksilah River Trip 2007

A few years ago I was driving along Southern Vancouver Island near Shawnigan Lake and made an unplanned but enjoyable detour to Koksilah River Provincial Park.
After parking I hiked down and crossed an old wooden bridge. Below was Koksilah River with its small canyon.
I sketched this small charcoal composition with watecolour washes. I then carefully smudged more charcoal into the paper to leave that effect and I like the end painting.

Saltery Bay 1996

This is a small watercolour of the rocky shoreline at Saltery Bay Provincial Park. I love painting the interaction between the sea and the land. In this painting I exaggerated the brushstrokes and the composition appears somewhat expressionistic. I painted a few more in oils that day and they did become smudged in the boxes but they still look interesting.

It was a day trip from the Mainland to the Sunshine Coast and we left by the Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal quite early that morning. At low tide the other people in our sketch party explored the tidal pools and they found small marine life swimming around.

Vaseux Lake Provincial Park 1999

In the spring of 1999 my family and myself went to the Okanagan for just a one week vacation. It was lovely and the weather wasn't to hot yet.
This is a small oil painting of Vaseux Lake where I would paint in the mornings and our motel was close by. The light at that time was soft and the reflections of the vegetation and landscape were mirrored with subtlety. I painted dozens of paintings and sketches at this Provincial Park; we also hiked, enjoyed the spring flowers and saw the mountain goats far up on the bluffs.

Those Mellow Melons 1994

Discovered more faded sketches of the dessert plate of melons from that Alouette Lake picnic.
The sketch paper of this small thumbnail of cantaloupe has been weather by moisture and time, but I still like the effect.
I'm glad I never throw any artwork out, in time everything has a place and use.

Remembrance Day 2010: We Will All Never Forget...

Their Winters Flights 2008

The frozen walks in the woods,
Send chills throughout the skies,
Only the brave birds which stay,
Will tough it out long into winters day,
Amongst the underbrush all the feathered soldiers,
Figures cast along with relief,
Replicate the wax berries,
They'll feed on in frozen solitude,
Many are received in generosity,
Only are the late birds in these nowadays,
Their predecessors would migrate,
In moments of departure,
Hitching rides back on the storms,
High up to kiss the earth good-bye,
Goldfinches, meadowlarks and swallows have taken flight,
Many more to name such delicate forms,
Birds and life I praise there out of sight,
Hearty wrens, chickadees and sparrows mostly never depart,
But winter along these woodlands of my heart,
There they'll cuddle in the underbrush,
Repelling jackets tawny and brave,
Even the homeless dear hearts will stay,
In their tents of blues and grays,
Cozy and awake to save their Soul a place,
They should've been housed in that village of shame,
Oh, those winters games,
And the cruel which shall be unnamed,
There, their winters flights,
Throughout these cold, cold nights,
Snows roused all into conscious shivering,
And some may feel the storms for a winters forlorn,
It is the season all should be warned.

Bonwick Island 2010

And the last oil painting from my Broughton Marine Park series is Bonwick Island. It's not technically part of the Broughton archipelago of Islands; but it was visible so I included this one as well.
We were done for the day painting and had lunch and it was enjoyable; we tried something different. We waited for the fish boats to pass by and the plane began taxiing along the waterway. It took around forty minutes to fly back to Port McNeill as the headwinds were quite strong.

Harrison Lake 1991

My memory will recall in vivid detail,
A Harrison Lake adventure,
Our party surrounded by such beauty,
Washes in truth and time,
With their colours and textures indicated,
The little ones would run and play on the swings,
Their legs kicking out and creating momentum,
A game of who could soar higher was on,
Across the waters from our joy,
Strangers behaving badly along that other beach,
Those scandalous shores would never reach us,
Even our sweet dog behaved wonderfully,
Respectful on leash and knew she was loved,
Mountains shrouding perilously to the touch,
In time they shall fade into the background,
Trails would reel in hikers ever higher to the goal,
We enjoyed the lake with waters tepid all year,
Most people never stayed dry,
Inevitably even a wade enticed all to bathe.

Everyday's a Perfect Day 1998

They will awake,
the details of the day displayed,
The laughter filled their happy play,
games and gossip put away,
Another image,
Many love to pray,
the pure power involved to make ones day,
Never a bad remark or thought,
to anyone,
in which they have been taught,
Oh, if those angels would never grow old,
but stay the same,
Their wings that never would clip,
and emotions to hold onto for always.

Swanson Island and Crease Island 2010

Another small oil sketch from the Broughton Marine Park series. Near these two interesting Islands the bald eagles were also fishing for those salmon. With precision each large bird swooped down over the waters with talons ready. Some of the fish were quite heavy but their large wings safely lifted them up and away from the waters. Sometimes birds are expected in waterscape paintings; I decided not to include them in this composition as it would have made this painting too busy.

Secrets Of The Woodland Bleeding Hearts 2003

Beacon Hill forest would hide their secrets,
And agonize the seeker,
In search of that dream,
Splashes of liquid impressions,
Expressed in sequence,
Only prod us back to a chased reality,
I have been back to these woodlands of my youth,
Pines, cedars and spruce know of my arrival,
And send me back to a riddle in time,
As I travel through the underbrush,
My hands feel and grip the bark,
And lift the boughs which motion me to stay,
Only my legs would carry me forth,
Bounce and spring sending me on that day,
And progress to my reward,
Merely hurdles to test the mind,
But rest in kind,
Windstorms of the past played their games,
With these fallen monuments,
Screamers still cry from their sharpened splinters,
Desiccated forms given way to rebirth,
And all is saved in this place of support,
At last those pale pink flowers,
Miniature hearts draped in sentiment,
Those trees and ferns protecting the secret place,
But in colour the bleeding hearts summoning all to admire.
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

Midsummer Island and Owl Island 2010

This is another oil painting quickly sketched in the passage at Broughton Marine Park. Midsummer Island and Owl Island are quite close in distance and we noticed that day in summer lots of activity in the waters around us.
The seals were feeding and silver colored large fish were jumping all around in the passage. They must have been the sockeye salmon returning in their millions to the westcoast. This has been the largest return of these salmon back to the Fraser River and its tributaries since the early 1900's.
　
　
　
　
　
　

The Sweet Calls of the Chickadees 2010

Awakening from the dreams in sleep,
and breath released,
The peonies team with the mightiest heartbeats,
calling out in those cool tones,
and breathe in the delight of that moment,
With each brilliantly little aria,
sonnets in the songs of delight,
If only the sunlight could motion the chickadees,
to stay but play,
merely for this spring day,
Another warm stage announces my sweet singers,
Holding their melodious tune,
so their voices can call in the new day of June.

Broughton Marine Park 2010

We just came back from a painting trip on Vancouver Island and drove the island highway. The week we stayed in the town of Port McNeil was enjoyable and we chartered a seaplane to the Broughton Archipelago Marine Park. There was just four people onboard and we painted after landing near Eden Island.

This is a quick oil painting of Broughton Island; the largest one in this Provincial Marine Park. We then flew around and landed in many other waterways, painted, had lunch and eventually flew back to Port McNeil; it was only a three hour painting trip but it was very memorable.

The Watery Colours of Ocean Storm 2000

We would see this wooden skeleton,
Already painted by the elements,

Her hues severely bleeding,
Into their rusty tones,

Many a nail would release and distort,
This beached gillnetter of a carcass,

Only the beautiful vertical presence,
And monumental shape,
Surrendered All,
To the sculptor; which is the sea,

And sent me dizzy into this image,
But dazzled towards the horizon,

Another storm daring all to stay,
And fall into the seas volume.

Prince Rupert 1999

This small watercolour was quickly sketched along a trail on Prince Rupert's Digby Island. There was a lot of rain on that day in September; and when it cleared briefly I painted this quite dark and rather mysterious composition.

Prince Rupert is where we stayed and the time there was very enjoyable with all that beautiful nature around us. And the waters of Hecate Strait is a major waterway for tourism and we saw lots of whales too.

Dessert at the Picnic 1994

I feel this watercolour of the cantaloupe dessert we had at Alouette Lake; even compliments the oil painting one and the many more drawings from this series. I've always loved painting this fruit because the golden flesh with all its depth and vivid hues reminds me of summer.

In Unison of the Snow Geese 1999

They would spread out,

Forming the unity of peace,

Winged animals of flight,

Soaring out in harmony,

We would never tire of this marvel,

People left to watch and express,

Charming colours for this canvas,

With impressions which left are best,

Such movement of the atmosphere,

I have never envied neither nor dare,

If I could soar with my plumage made bare,

Perhaps the geese in the colours of snow,

Could lift me higher,

So I could dream once more,

Reaching to the heights,

And one day entering Heavens doors.

Rain 2010

Today after over a month the rain finally came. On the westcoast summer was lovely but very dry and the precipitation was much needed.
We have tomato plants growing below the kitchen window and the fruit are beginning to ripen.
I love the scent of rain and how it revives the flowers and plants; hours have passed and even the brilliant greens of the new grasses have began showing through.

The Soul to the Clock 2002

Every time I look towards the south,
The beauty which once stood there,
Seems to call out to the sensitive man,
Sketches creative in chalks of colour,
Many more sticky charcoal indications,
Should well impress all that is calm,
Invite me back to your parkland as I reach out,
I except the offer as the river swells in song,
Last night across the river,
With those goings-on and screams of calamity,
The night storms and the wailing from the land,
Will mask those savage brutes and conceal their illicit deals,
That we all have known and seen,
Keeping them away from this civility,
And please create that screen,
Even the ghostly flights of the geese which never scream,
That marketplace,
Its imprint lost and hidden by greed,
Sometimes calls out to a stranger,
Only the ones that know the place and remember,
And the breaks of silence which speak,
Elegant hands of the clockmakers,
A human touch and soul left to fuel the clock,
I know its hidden in the loft,
The warehouse doors shut tight,
With its secret locked up for all the nights.

In Praise of the Songbirds 2002

Voices sweetly converse with melody,
They'll sing back with delight,
Each pose with sweet forms of vitality,
What tiny hearts and a song in tune for the night,
Perching with such frozen elegance,
I wonder what the other people have felt,
This composition reveals something which may delight,
Island of Mayne in these Straits which we've sailed,
Do these waters reflect or embody the murky depths,
Greenish blues collide with the umber greens,
That I have met and many of us which have seen,
The songbirds which hitch a ride on the winds,
Hold to the wild strawberries with care,
I'll hold these sticks of colour and dare,
Mere scratches I hope will delight,
Perhaps a song to mesmerize,
My beautiful sunburst of life,
The gusts persist and tantalize,
Just the rhythm of this land awakes,
Please don't release the goldfinches,
As their sudden flight will take shape.

The Hidden Treasures of Richmond 2007

I would have never imagined driving along River road in Richmond and coming upon wildflower trails.
This painting was quickly painted in oil and I did another lovely watercolour painting.
We always enjoy visiting in Spring those trails again and what a treasure; every year many more beautiful flowers growing wild.

The Gray Whale...May Love To Stay More in the Fraser 2010

If these waters could cleanse that False Creek,
Perhaps more vivid dreams could surface,
Only to impress that wanderer,
Its form so beautiful,
And warm-blooded like us,
The months have gone by now,
Its glistening ashen body,
Frolicked and searched,
In that wasteland of neglect and abuse,
Land that seems to revive,
Time heals but will only hide,
Cold facades and concrete replicas,
The soils secrets,
Still leaches their toxicity,
Back into that ancient waterway,
Settlements in this estuary,
From the First people,
Their Nations harmed none,
And left silent talk,
Their spirits may have called out,
People of our times,
Friendly and excited,
Will run to the decks and wave on,
But the whales language still searched,
In its ancestral waters,
And moved on and away
And out to Jericho Bay,
Without play in its liquid world,
Its watery breath sighed,
Please come back another day,
Seen last from Spanish Banks,
Come back to us along this Rivers Bank.

And Once There Was A Cannery 1991...

As if I was walking back in time,
Only the trails of Boundary Bay,
Still hold that certain mystic for me,
I love revisiting those places painted,
That time would never relinquish
Those faded memories stripped away by familiarity,
Which is beauty,
Resting stoically in places untamed,
And weathered by the elements,
Still lives on in this painting,
And the many more images ready for the reveal,
Perhaps its form no longer rests along that slough,
The luscious land,
The sea with all its baggage,
And the space around,
Companions of my West,
One would love to wonder,
Even the winds hushing breath,
As it flows through the cottonwoods,
Teases the crying willows away from my attentions,
Would leave us all dreaming and wishing,
To stand now at the very spot,
Where the years have gone by but I have clocked,
My youth taken away mercilessly by time,
If closing ones eyes real tightly,
And opening them quickly,
Could reveal the beauty which once stood there,
Please Sun aid in reviving that dream,
I have seen your waves of heat,
Transform this land,
Into that mirage,
Which would help me in my dreams,
And reveal the wooden cannery once more to me.

Pine Tree at Cypress Bowl in Charcoal 2002

I found another one of my compositions on manila paper, done while on a painting trip to Cypress Bowl. This series of this wonderful and interesting pine tree shows a charcoal drawing. Time has aged the paper and darkened it but I'm glad I pressed quite hard and scraped away with the charcoal stick. I feel the impression left was quite good and even the areas which were left alone; gave space and light during that perfect summer day.

Recollections Of The Garden Water Pots 1996

When entering my flower garden,
Certain memories are released,
That is the passion that time would not relent,
Goad it back to form and let me dream once more,
Many decades ago the children could see,
And would love to lose themselves,
In the blossoms and vegetation of the planters,
Everything lovingly smelled and collected,
Questions filled that beautiful garden room,
The hydrangeas with their mystic and flowering clusters,
Soft pretty pinks, blues and whites; splendor soothing a childs heart,
Hold strong to ones memories as time will fly by precisely,
As adults the children ask the same wonderful questions,
Searching and exploring especially after the rains,
The spent flowers become cup-shaped seedpods,
Water pots of the garden now,
Drenching or refreshing,
Whomever,
Which loves a game.

The Subtleties in Blue of the Gulf Islands 2000

A sudden smear,
Would lead to many blushes of indication,
Only that awakening form,
Would reveal all,
In the joy of that expressionistic moment.

When Our Souls Unite 1989

What a beautiful adventure,
To search,
In this garden of peace,

I leave behind me,

That meaningless wasteland of a city,
A cold concrete jungle with shady recesses,
Undesirables lurking in the darkness,

We all love to walk,
In this luscious oasis of nature,

Human beings,
Perhaps united for the common good,

All bodies are lovely,

Alive and vital,

Vehicles for our Souls,

Perhaps a Romantic notion,

When eyes meet,
Our words would greet,
Thoughts of peace,

Certain connections or friendly farewells,
Enrich us more,
When our Souls unite.

The Goldfinch Rests 2008

We all love the breaks in the spring rains,
Our umbrellas would all close in that riotous expected conclusion,
As the rays of warmth break through,
Only the kaleidoscope of the parkland sparkled once more,

The joy of a watercolour would resume now,
That oil medium earlier became 'The Goldfinches Rally',
Sated my spontaneity,
Water everywhere now but never a concern,
It always added to the work and gave meaning to the vision,

In the chaos of the deluge,
I would worry away; wondering if the beauty was lost,
In the mountain ash movement,
And under their leafy covers,
They would preen and dry off,
Those goldfinches would fly by once more,

Flashes of sunlight taken flight,
Probably they enjoyed their spring bathe,

Their so curious,
Aware,
But wild,

Eventually one would land close by again,
How lucky I thought I was,
They would think these hands would offer some treat,

The wild strawberries merely wetted their appetite,

But the insects caught in the breeze,
Sent that goldfinch off,
And the colony began to feast once more.

The Towering Pine Tree 2002

As I sat down for hours in the parklands of Cypress Bowl, I planned to leave that summer day with many works of art.
I usually bring with me in my bag alot of different art supplies. This is another small thumbnail in coloured pencils on some rough cardboard. One had to scrap away and struggle with the surface in order to leave an impression. The medium is soft and you would have to go over the areas quite often; so it took sometime to create.
I still enjoyed the charcoal, watercolour and oil compositions the most...there's fluidity.

Stirring Liquid Emotions 1998

All is stirring,
on this luscious morning,
The river with its liquid body,
rushes so elegantly,
Three young woman,
converse with emotions of sentiment,
Only the hips of the wild roses,
will form that base,
Later stirred with reverence,
among the other ingredience,
More motion,
pectin introduced to the sweet sugary fruit,
transforms the beautiful rosy jam,
into its familiar viscosity,
Water rolls in a boil,
the jars tumble deep down in that pot,
soon everything becomes processed,
and sealed,
only to be revealed,
And enjoyed later in that spread,
on the homemade bread.

That Camping Sojourn at Boundary Bay 1995

This series of the abandoned car at the forest of Boundary Bay is completed now. I'm sure I have other pencil and ink sketches done during that summer of '95.
My family and I set up our tents nearby the vehicle which had broken down probably around forty years earlier. Eventually that would become one of my favourite subject matters.
This oil on panel is more detailed then the other compositions. The forest, sky, mudflats, sea, all the animal and insects, and even the lovely cloud formations were painted too.

The Serene Bank 2000

As to persuade the other lifes from this vehicle,
One would love to search this river of mixed consequences,

Journeying towards the landing,
Far out on those familar waters,
Becomes always an adventure with the same result,

Serenity,

Even the blue heron which seem so peaceful too,
Sees below those sparkling molecules,
And when their spring is released the morsel is enjoyed,

Sometimes when I See and Feel,

Revealing that certain tranquility,

What's beneath all that wonderful sparkle?,

A kingfisher up in that mountain ash would wonder too,
All drama and sometimes a missed opportunity,

The wading marine animals prod and venture along in search for a meal,
Many meaningful splashes from the salmon,
My eyes dart towards those shining indications,
Sometimes a waving tail fin in conclusion,

And a hand wave back in play,

It's been a long beautiful day,

Travellers away for many years,
They'll arrive soon in the waterways of their youth,

Work and days over; as the tide hurries me back up the serene bank.

The North Arm in Spring 2005

In these charcoal tinted blues,
Even the north arm of the Fraser became true,
It will move me,
And sometimes loose thee,
We may not have seen those hues,
The skies lent a hand in the splashes about this land for you,
Ebb and flow of those greys outweighed that day,
Even this small thumbnail would stay,
A secret in the small hand of a child,
Making such big language for awhile,
To thank,
This rivers bank,
Perhaps for spring this message has been,
The wild lilies gathered about me waiting to be seen.

Flight of the Geese in White 1999

A random cascade of fluttering beauty all about,
What teaming glorious wing beats,
They're the whitish plumes,
Which seemingly motion in waves upon one after another,
Some black trimmed with precious delicacy,
The rough and almost vague waters grey with distance,
Have seen their migration throughout the millennia,
Even the beautiful cries within the flock hold coherency,
If my wings could burst through these fibres,
I would soar with these adventures,
Climbing ever higher to kiss my Maker,
Loving everything Dearly,
Eventually knowing the journey,
Would lead us to Peace.

Midnight Blues Ride 1995

What a ride,
The blues of that midnight,
Would not have been,
For the darkness strained on for the visionaries,

Shine on moon,
Your delicate beams shone in an impish scene,
Only the nocturnal creatures scurrying in the brush have seen,

The searing darkness wore out this pretext of a beautiful game,
Of those colbalt and prussian blues,
Sweetly challenging those faded aquamarines for their space,

One could feel the soft kiss of the viridians adventure,
Journeying back towards the soft glow of dawn.

Wild Daffodils of Aldergrove 2009

We were hiking in Aldergrove last year along a dike trail with the little Campbell River to our left. We had a lot of snow and winter seemed to last a long time but finally the wildflowers began to appear. The snowdrops, crocuses and these beautiful daffodils began to appear; the sign springs arrived.
The weather around the westcoast was still unpredictable but I still painted this watercolour. It was sleeting and still chilly but I'm pleased with this composition and the stains on the watercolour paper from that wet day gives the painting some charm.

Rhythm of the Cherry Tree Blossoms 2010

You've taken a hold in my eyes,
What a surprise,
Those blues of the skies,
Kiss the pinkish folds of all the different size,
Even the blush of your petals warm the honeybees,
Throughout this beautiful cherry blossom tree,
The challenge is on in the parade of this land,
Springs breath will summon back winters hand,
As one will pronounce that perfect moment below the blossoms,
The caressing winds that release and a shower of pale pinks to toss them.

The Clock within the Spire 2002

I have seen the crown once more,

Their secret no longer kept,

More lost history,
Created by the greedy,
Its neglect hidden in their back lot of rebuff,

My respect moves me to reflect,

I, amongst many others,
Worked around that proximity,
Took retreat in the cool shade below,

I recall the clock within the spire,
Its movements of precision,
And lovely tune in a song of chimes,
Even travelled across the waters to my sanctuary,

In those days its beautiful erect tower,
A body adorned in fragrant red cedar and inspiration,

One could feel the hot sun hurry us about,
Our break would hold us firmly to the tranquillity of this square,
Some could feel the attraction for this unique clock,
And my fondness for this artifact of my past,

Became a faded dream,
Only revived by this watercolour vision.

The Picnic at Alouette Lake 1994

This painting of the cantaloupes still brings back fond memories. That was the time my family and myself picnicked at Alouette Lake. I completed many watercolour, charcoal and pencil sketches and studies of this still life that day. But I especially enjoyed painting this in oil. This fruit became a delicious dessert for us later; what a pleasant day we all had at that lake surrounded by those beautiful mountains.

Bluebells and Larkspur 2006

The blues have their hold in my eyes,
What a surprise,
Bluebells and larkspur tease the land,
Just a bouquet of elegance,
Competing for attention,
Their fragrance of such delight,
Shining brilliantly in the moonlight,
Dawn will bring forth more blooms,
That the springs warmth will nurture,
And the dark chalky soils,
Of Hazelmere will not spoil.

The Shades Of That Sweet Harvest 1998

Once the shades of that mirage had lifted,
"What is this illusion that I have seen?",
My memory would challenge my heart,
I heard the song once of a nightingale,
It filled that open meadow with tune,
And left my heart crying with joy,
But the warblers prepared for their chorus,
Sincere but a faint reflection,
Soon the voices in melody of girls laughter,
Soared in such merriment,
And they'd be engaged by the sweet harvest of those rosehips,
Even the hush of the Pacific breeze couldn't compete for their attentions,
Such a wonderful presence,
The sisters of confidantes,
Smears of another thumbnail sketch would defy my charcoal impression,
And once again the shades of this mirage would lift,
It would only seem later,
In this vivid sentiment,
'The romantic journey of a visionary',
I love knowing the Human Spirit of Joy,
Has reunited everything that exists,
And all that is witness to the calm of that sweet harvest.

Towers of the Skies 2002

My whole being in this Cypress Bowl forest,
Would search for a new seeing,

Send me a message,
I would think to myself,

The peace is beautiful,
My mouth would restrain from revealing that message,
As for the listeners would pronounce,
Perhaps a scandalous refrain,

God,

And I do believe in the almighty,

Send me something,

Inspiration,

Or merely a sign,

Heavenly sent,

The guardians of this land are silent,
The firs will watch and contemplate,
Pines just renounce my apparel,
And the aspens distort the sunlight and try to blind me,

This glorious place below these towers,
Reaches to fill that creative void,

I have begun to settle down now,

With the comforting sounds of the porcupine quills,
Scraping a melodious tune along the boughs of the firs,

And this watercolour which will fill my Soul.

The Goldfinches Rally 2008

The springs deluge,
Would hamper the motions of this meadow,
Sound out goldfinches in flight,
And pass by in sweet formation,
They love to rest and redress,
One especially enjoyed my work station,
It perched on that mountain ash entwined with the wild strawberries,
Those robins and chipmunks had feasted on those delectable morsels earlier,
My sweet yellow jacketed friend,
In your black and white feathery trim,
Your song is so poignant,
As is the preparation of your departure,
My deal with you for next time is,
A small feeder,
In which I shall hang from my easel,
I hope that will keep you intrigued by my side.

Consequences of The Solarized Mobile 1995

I would reach,
Deep,
Deep,
Into my being,

Pulling and tucking,
At all the beautiful feelings,
Collected from the mere joy of living,

That furnace in space,
With its heat and light,

Oh,
What energy,

All that solarized force,
Encapsulating this part of the solar system,
Flooding onto every particle created,
And reaching even to this corner,
Of that consequence of immobility,

Cajole me back into the realm of space,
My hands and imagination revealed,
Another painting,

"Could you be real?",

I would like to think so,

As it has become the show,

Another image as real,
As the artist seated,
Or the vegetation thriving,
And all the creatures around surviving,

Just an old car with the sun as a companion,
In this special light of that moment.

A Charcoals Delight 1995

That familiar sound,
Of the sweet scratches of delight,
Falling sometimes towards the earth,
My fingers would grasp another worn down stick,
Permeating the flesh,
With that earth tone pigment,
Those beautiful digits become the tools,
And work in unison,
As the moments proceed,
Another image is realized,
We all know in our hearts where each sketch will go,
More crosshatching and blending,
Tiny indications,
Larger impressions,
A charcoals delight,
I am contented with the results,
Also the muskrat living in the wheel well felt the same.

The Watercolour Ride 1995

A country ride was never a drive,
The fortunate ones stayed alive,

Buckling never became a fact,
Thanks to Heaven we all use that tact,

This image will live again in water detail,
Papers strength and application entail,

I loved everything I saw that day,
Hundreds of different views in May,

Wildflowers and creatures around me a lot,
All us people in this painterly party greet and talk,

When it is time to depart and drive away,
We're so happy our jalopy isn't one from that heyday.