Demented Confessions 2 – The Dive

The Dive

leaving the eye nest

diving into green man

this is who we were

risking everything

confessing nothing

because we could

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Art and poem by clinock.

The Dive. 8″ (20.32 cm) x 6″ (15.24 cm).

Mixed media relief in cradled panel.

Deja vu – haiku – Shadows

shadows-2

shadows on my wall

memories of your sweet light

now you are away

 

photo and haiku by clinock

2013 redux.

Autumn Blues.

autumnbluesSummer’s blood

thinned by foghorns

and chilling rain

turns tentative,

injecting veins

with a shivering

stuttering neon.

blues detail1Stretched by wind

skin is tightened

into geometries

of angled cold,

light weakens,

eyes struggle

against sleep.

blues detail2

The season moves

with the languorous

throb and angst

of Tchaikovsky

grinding October blues

through the smoky air

of burning leaves.

blues detail3

blues detail4

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)

Ghosts – Dreams for Sale

bed1Ghosts sleep

behind this window glass,

their memories confused

by labyrinths of iron

and caresses

of prospective buyers.

 

Their spines and cheeks

leave no impression

but I see them,

layered deep in time,

all who slept and dreamed and loved

on this Baroque and dislocated bed

embraced in the arms of Morpheus.

 

The antique sign says

“Dreams for Sale.”

Outside looking in

I am inside looking out.

My face reflects

on haunted pillows.

I pause,

whisper

“You are loved”

and walk on.

 

 Photo and Poem by clinock. (edited redux)

Ghosts – the alone

ghost1Cracked and whispering,

smeared

across frayed and faded

veils of memory,

dissolving

fractured interstices

of stained days,

the one alone,

lost.

 

Loss and paradox

chime

dried bones in dank tunnels

beneath a burning bridge

where bright darkness

casts an eye,

staring down my soul,

stirring my cells

translucent.

 

Intimate spirit

trapped,

struggling for escape

but chained

to rusting remnants

and luminous ice,

a nameless shadow

craving release,

freedom

 

to be loved into

tree skin,

sleeping rocks and gulls,

wolf and worm,

petal and seed.

To enter floods and dust,

and the rising moon.

To let go.

Transcend.

 

Mixed media painting and poem by clinock.

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