Summer’s blood
thinned by foghorns
and chilling rain
turns tentative,
injecting veins
with a shivering
stuttering neon.
Stretched by wind
skin is tightened
into geometries
of angled cold,
light weakens,
eyes struggle
against sleep.
The season moves
with the languorous
throb and angst
of Tchaikovsky
grinding October blues
through the smoky air
of burning leaves.
Are these the colours
of rusting memories
of a summer gone?
the falling glories
of the wings of trees?
or the ragged motley
of a jester at a wake?
painting and poem by clinock (edited redux)
geometries and October blues appropriate for painting
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Yes, absolutely Carl…Thank you for always being here…
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I envy your ability to illustrate your words! “Grinding October blues…” – I like that image. Well done!
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Thank you JoNell…
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You’ve captured the feeling perfectly. Just arrived home from the hour long jaunt with Max-man and feel all of this! I also have to say, the piece of art is amazing!
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I feel honoured by your words Kathleen, thank you…
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The painting is electric, John…neon and metal and molten wax. Do androids dream of sleep?
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I’m quite taken with “neon and metal and molten wax.” It bounces along nicely and tempts me to try these as media in a future painting, although I’m not sure how I would apply the neon…The Philip Dick pun is brilliant and an excellent question, or perhaps koan?…I don’t know the answer, I will sheep on it…
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A perfect trio John……a stunning Picassoesque portrait with separate viewing segments. A poem that describes the colors and nostalgia of the passing seasons so well and truely enhanced with Tchaikovsky quietly playing in the background. A delight in ever way!
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So very glad you enjoyed this Robert…sometimes I wonder why I blog…but when I receive responses like yours it all comes into focus…thanks my friend…
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I could say the same to you……my friend. Thank you!
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You portrait is a strong one, love the brightness of the colours, and the poem made me think of the walk we made today, in the woods. It was a short walk, but good 🙂 Great posting again!
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Thank you Ina, the woods are beautiful this time of year…
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‘…Summer’s blood…thinned by foghorns…’ – You had me right there. The lines are like stained glass, prismatic, and heightened. And the jester enters in his ~ Autumn. Looking at the full portrait with the music playing – I feel him looking into the heart of the music. Does the music come before or after the foghorns?
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neither,
it’s in them…
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listening in bed
~
dappling dances
vancouver downpour
haunting foghorns
~
exhaling sounds
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all the melancholic music
of October
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Those colors zing and those eyes are mental!!
Hope you’re well, Mr C – Best wishes for the holidays to you and yours 😀 Eph X
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