just so you know

I’m having problems on WP. I am unable to ‘Like’ and such.

And under ‘The Bell’ I have only an endlessly spinning blue circle…

Seems to me there’s been some kind of update and everything is topsy turvy. 

I want to visit you but there are ‘obstacles’…

Sometimes you just have to laugh!

 

 

 

Winter Muse

winter-muse

It has been a long winter.

Renovations have not come easily

but they have come and I’m sure

will continue to come

until I am bones in the beaks of crows.

 

My muse rings the changes too.

It’s a game we play, it’s called hide and seek.

There are blindfolds on both sides

and the snow has been deep

and renovations have been difficult.

 

But don’t hear me wrong,

there is always laughter, wonder and light,

the sparkle of space and love

as I sweep the corners clean

and imagine everything new again.

 

Art and poem by clinock

Painting: Winter Muse. 20 x 16”. Acrylic on canvas.

Hello everyone. The changes are obvious I think. I hope you have no problems with navigation. I am working on a separate ‘portfolio / gallery’ site just for my art. I will post the link when complete.

Renovations, actual, virtual or metaphorical are ongoing.

fāz/the Jester and her Jester

A jester and her jester

Why are we not all born

with a jester attached?

With us until we die.

To keep us awake.

To remind us of the truth.

To fill mortality with laughter

and the jingle of bells?

If the jester

listens to her jester

as the brain listens to the heart

she may eventually find peace

among the flow and thrust

of our twisted ribbons.

Are we finally saved then,

can I relax now

or did i get it wrong again?

I’m certain I saw a family resemblance

and, it was only yesterday was it not

that the ferryman winked at me?

And although the days are losing definition

I’m certain it was the same day

you made a necklace out of acorns

and hung it around my neck, laughing.

The partnership is blessed

and sacrificed

at the same moment.

The breast to the memory stone.

Not a circle after all but an arc.

And all is suddenly Carnival,

bright and loud and gilded,

showing the folds and creases

of pockets and wallets and bags

as we leave them at the door.

Unburdened

we are

free to dance.

The Jester and her Jester. 18×14″. Acrylic on paper on panel.

Painting and poem by clinock.