Demented Confessions 18 – Caught

Caught 2

 

Fish, mouse, poet,

hooked and guillotined,

snagged and gridded and greened,

caught in the act,

enchanted.

 

From before the beginning

there was no possibility of escape.

I learned to love the pointy end,

confess with blood and colours on my tongue

and be still.

~~~~~~

 

Poem and art by clinock.

Caught. 8″ x 8″ (20 x 20 cm). Mixed media relief in cradled panel.

map of my heart

map

In case I disappear here is a map of my heart,

a patched up job, repeatedly reassembled.

With a little patience it can still be understood

and if gently handled it won’t fall apart,

but please do not fold, spindle or mutilate.

 

Its paths and crossroads are still echoing

with songs of travelers passing through,

tears too are heard, of the wandering lost,

for though the roads are straight they are also worn

and collapsed with confusions and misdirections.

 

Notice how the blue of fallen sky becomes an ocean

where angels and mermaids dance in arcs of light.

I rest on these beaches when I lose myself,

cool my feet in the waves and sleep for awhile,

then I remember, this is the way back home.

 

And here are the greens of meadows where I lay

deep in new growth, my thrusting blossoms

seeding the verdant winds and high forests of isolation

with pollinations of laughter, longing and desire.

I smudge the map with unseen words against forgetting.

 

And there the golden glow of a thousand votive flames

illuminates the holy dark, recalls the first January sun,

places lamps in all the windows, engorges summer heat,

reflects itself in conjured forms of island fantasies

and shapes of full moon dreams in fields of wheat.

 

The signatures of red I will not hide beneath the surface,

they are its surging life and are crying for acceptance.

These bleeds of love seep through the gauze of landscape

however many bandages of colour I apply.

No compass needed here. This is a map of my heart.

torn and reassembled acrylic painting and poem by clinock

light (memoria italiana)

cinqueterrawindow2

“We’re in Italy,” you said,

“together”

and laughing you fed me oranges,

purple wine, cannoli and kisses

as Mediterranean light

danced through the window

and Italian voices rose

echoing

from the street below.

The beauty of your words

released me

from my traveling trance,

illuminating and

washing me in wonder,

amazed by the simple beauty

of being alive,

there, with you

in that blue and yellow day.

It poured through us,

that shining moment,

an ocean of ecstasy and liquid gold

and we helplessly surrendered

to its luminous tide

drowning willingly

in the deeps of colour,

the smells of olives, fish and sea

and the sound of distant singing.

Chair, roof tiles, window glass,

an arched Italian sky, your mirrored face

and the bright calling of bells

reflected radiance everywhere

dazzling and dissolving

behind closed eyes

as we inhaled each others breath

and exhaled the sun,

igniting southern stars.

 

poem and photo by clinock