The Sky’s Eye and Ours



The sky’s face watches, exhausted; blinks.
Blessed evening parades a lullaby –
woollen lavender weights travel
magically suspended,
hot-blushing sunset casts a mural
against cold walls, whilst the city turns purple
and the air to breathe is plum.

How many have painted a sun?
with twisted wrist and loaded brush,
an idea of bright, hot, white.
Artists eyes strain above architecture, feet stuck in
northern courtyards of red brick and cobblestones,
learning that all suns are not the same,
don’t look the same,
but look like us.



Happy February: Paintings

February is upon us. I’m thinking of it as the ‘true’ start to the year, January was a trial period for me. In other news, I’ve been playing with more silhouetted foregrounds in my painting. My favourite is the first one with the pen over the graduated sky colours. I’m trying to not let my ‘landscapes’ become static and lifeless, so I’ve chosen slightly more vibrant colours and a rough-and-ready approach to the finish of the pieces (read: not perfect!)


I really like the effect, and it’s pleasing to watch come together. I should have some writing product of my poetry class to show you by the end of the week. That’s my prioritised occupation, really, so watch this space!