Haunted, he wears his ghost lightly.
Woven on phantom air
the dream descends like spent ashes.
Singing, with pointed sticks
he marks the wing of the lightning,
as only a father might do.
Entangled in ghost tossed clouds
he follows his fractured dreaming
like a mother’s goodbye.
Haunted and enchanted,
he summons the cast of the moon,
the wash and cry of the sea.
The borders of sleep are burning.
Poem and pastel drawing by Clinock
In June 2014 this was the final submission of my ‘The 100’ series that I began in 2012 in celebration of my 100th post on WP.
Over a two-year span I posted 100 Text and Art artworks, this creative form being at the heart of my blog.
My intention was to present 100 pieces of text based art from historical and contemporary artists, from my ex students and from my own hand.
With this post it was done
completed, concluded, fulfilled,
finished and finalized.
Remember the endings of those romantic,
enigmatic, exotic and erotic
French movies?
~FIN~
Time to put on hats and coats,
shuffle through popcorn detritus and cola cans,
leave the cosy sentiments of make-believe,
the warmth of shared fantasies and holding hands,
the smells of perfume, upholstery and sweat,
and stumble through swinging doors
into the glare and noises of the street,
stunned for a moment, floating between
two worlds,
uncertain which is real.
art and poem by clinock
October’s face
torn by wet winds
erodes and decays,
entering a deep
and melancholic
sleep.
It’s a worn and aging mask
painted with autumn
landscapes,
dreaming of sunflowers
broken by storms,
trees ripped into
spinning kaleidoscopes
of red and gold confetti,
and
tire marks
in the snow.
October’s face,
up against the wall of time
disintegrates,
fragments,
descends with the leaves
towards darker days.
Its beauty is short
but the fall
is long.
poem and photo by clinock (edited redux).
photo: found wall art, Vancouver. Thanks and Credit to unknown artist.
Hungry ghost,
insatiable spirit,
I would free you first
amongst many if I could,
release you from your struggle
for relief and escape,
but you are mired so deep
in your painful longings
I cannot reach you.
Hungry ghost,
never satiated,
always searching, wild eyed
for the soothing elixir
that will fill the emptiness inside.
Tasting this and drinking that,
inhaling green and golden brown
mists of pleasure and illusion
to alleviate your loneliness.
Hungry ghost,
stripping the beauty of what is
with beaks of desire
to find fulfillment in what isn’t.
Hunting through nature and time
for more than is given.
Feeding on dreams
while the nurture of life waits
untouched around you.
Hungry ghost,
I would free me of you
and you of me,
exorcize these cravings
for the imagined, the untrue,
with chants of love
and a final act of will
dissolving these yearnings,
these haunted addictions
into clear mountain water.
painting and poem by clinock.
Done, over, concluded, terminated.
Remember the end of those romantic
French movies? “FIN”,
as in finished and finale.
Time to put on coats and hats,
shuffle through popcorn detritus and cola cans,
leave the cosy sentiments of make-believe,
the warmth of shared fantasies and holding hands,
the smells of perfume, upholstery and sweat,
and step through swinging doors
into the glare and noises of the street,
stunned for a moment, floating between
two worlds, not certain which is real.
Mixed media art and poem by clinock
Thanks Mr. Twain.
searching by moonlight
stumbling through deep shadows
dreamers lose their way
haiku and photography by clinock
art rat cafe 