I’ve been working flat out all week on a whole range of new designs for a charity coffee morning stall. If birds are your thing, or raccoons on rollerskates, or sunshiney loveliness, come along and buy. It’s in a good cause – the awesome Serena Scott is trekking from the Dead Sea to Petra next year, raising money for the Prostate Cancer Charity. Here’s the link:
Here are two paintings for two little people.
Enjoy!
what if
what if when I die they throw away all my cool stuff
what if we go away and the house floods
what if I run out of food or money
what if I forget to tidy up before I go out
what if the neighbours plot against me
what if I never get better at phone calls
what if I can’t make it happen again
what if a mouse comes in and eats the cereal
what if I end up in a wheelchair
what if the drains block and the house fills up with sewage right to the top and I can’t clear it up
what if one of my children dies
one of the babies I fed at my breast
what if I never amount to anything
what if I’m never quite good enough
what if the roof falls in and lands on me when I’m asleep
what if the computer crashes and I lose all the photos
what if someone asks me to make a painting of horses for them
I can’t draw horses
what if rain gets into my studio
or mice or that squirrel
what if I wake up and my faith is all a muddled up fairy story
what if I don’t wake up
what if the Citilink man kills me
what if I make jam and it doesn’t set and I give a pot to a neighbour and she gets botulism
TM January 2012
Footnote: I have actually worried about all these things. It’s a special skill.
Heights
for Richard and Robert
And that’s where we did it,
up there
where I played at Cathy,
all unspent passion
and covered
petticoat buttons,
and that’s where we went,
three of us together.
For the record
I was wearing
a Baildon Race Meet
sweatshirt
in dirty grey marl
a goose down waistcoat
covered in paint
and a navy blue beret
ever the
eccentric
and Rob was in his
work shoes,
struggling,
and Richard
a priestly
Iron Man
black on the horizon.
The orange lights
over Bradford
came on individually
and
I put my
trainered foot
in an icy pool
to feel the water
coming in
through the eyelets
Rob’s phone rang -
I got the giggles
and fell behind,
the reedy moor
a hog’s back
slippery under my feet
and away you went
both,
swirling,
& mingling
white and alive
with the
gathering indigo dusk
TM April 2012
Low Flying Herons
It’s not what
you’d call sunny
and it’s not even
Saturday either
but
suddenly I am in
the yard underneath
a sky strung out
with washing
and I am touching it
reverently as if
to bring you back
to life
by fingering the hems
of your favourite
trousers and slipping
my fingers into
your pockets which
contain no surprises
or keys
or money
or bubblegum
now
low flying herons
flap overhead
like wet sheets
all afternoon
and soon I wander
indoors
over disconsolate slug trails
and a hopscotch skeleton
to bake fairy cakes
for a birthday tea
or a funeral feast
whistling
I still miss you
like a half empty kettle
Lovely old Growly Bear!
And Seventies Polly (in progress!). Much more to do, so watch this space.
Hello! I hope you enjoy my blog.
