Anthem for a new year

 

“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in…”

 

From this heart to all of yours…may your New Year be filled with love, creativity and magic…we build the doors and then we pass through them…

“every heart, every heart / to love will come / but like a refugee…”

“For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We’ll drink a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.”

Photo by clinock

P.S. My new year’s resolution is to remain cheerfully cooperative with the primal flux.

 

 

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We Rise

There are periods of moments

strung together like seagulls

along the white wake of time

that seem to glow with more light,

more intense shadows sliding,

more music in their foam.

 

There have been days like this

leading to the now of writing

on this poignant day of remembrance:

I shivered, sweating and sleepless

through nights of fevered demons

the medicines invoked in the blood.

 

And at the same time needing

to solve incomprehensible clues

leading to solutions of puzzles

I didn’t ask for or want.

And always the rumors of war

we didn’t ask for or want.

 

There were the anniversary rituals too.

One year after the crowning of the mad king,

and the previous day, because he knew to leave

before the Ace of Spades became the trump,

Mister Cohen waved farewell.

I bled tears that day for a man I loved.

 

And today, the eleventh day of the eleventh month,

we enact our agreed rituals of mourning:

Silence, remembering, honouring the dead

of the wars that never end.

People, we can do better than this,

isn’t it time we gave all our children  peace?

 

“From bitter searching of the heart,

we rise to play a greater part.”

 

 

 

 

Mixed media art, photo and poem by Clinock

October 2013 – Ghosts Pass By

Ghosts pass by.

Abandoning armchairs,

stubbing out cigars,

quaffing the final drop

of vintage port

they float away,

down the back stairs,

checking their auras

in the cracked mirror

as they go.

 

Ghosts pass by.

Evicted from rooms

of haunted sleep,

they pass on, like wind,

like a Fellini parade,

a dust blown cavalcade

of ragged motley

seeking another home,

another creaking attic,

another empty shell.

 

Ghosts pass by.

Swathed in scars and chains,

autumn leaves and broken hearts

they pass the open window

of my glorious night.

Weeping phantoms,

restless souls and spirits,

their gaze is losing me

and I watch their sad ambling

with eyes of dawn.

 

Ghosts pass by

in feather boas, painted rags,

stained armor and cloaks of stars;

a susurration of shadows

shimmering with enchantment;

tears and whispers in the night.

Ghosts pass by, darkly inviting

but I turn and touch the sun,

and am exorcised again

in pulsing light.

~~~

 

Acrylic painting and poem by Clinock

Edited redux from October 2013

 

August Redux 2014 – baptismos

Liquid whispers

from behind the veil.

 

Invitations to dance

accepted.

 

Absorbed by

succulent wetness.

 

Sinking

into warm release.

 

Dissolved in wonder,

embraced by namelessness,

diving into light,

drowning

in the confluence

of moisture and flesh.

 

Sliding

Into

Rebirth.

 

Painting and Poem by clinock.

 

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.

Solstice – Full Moon – Summer Magic

“In streams of light I clearly saw
The dust you seldom see,
Out of which the nameless makes
A name for one like me.

I’ll try to say a little more:
Love went on and on
Until it reached an open door
Then love itself
Love itself was gone.”

 

Words by Leonard Cohen.

First three photos by clinock.

Final photo thanks Google Images.