Tulip in Conte crayon

This is a really bad photo of a fairly bad and faded effort, but the doodle served its purpose at the time.

I tend to rely too much on shading for effect, so I decided to do a purely line drawing of a tulip. The result is a bit pumpkiny overall, but I can't say that I mind too much.

Norah

Why do you sing the same sad songs
when the sun is melting rivers in decaying snow?
The birds believe in spring,
you know,
but you still hide yourself in dead leaves
and sigh for last year's
forgotten flowers.

What sort of waste is that
to aim for tragic
when the whole garden wants you to dance?
All around the buds vibrate life
and even the icicles sparkle
in their ending.

For your sake
(if only yours)
let the new warmth touch you
through the open door.
You were not made to cultivate shadows
and the season calls to the
light in your veins.

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I never commented on this yesterday when I posted it (it's today now, in case you wondered). I suppose that's because there's not a whole lot to say. It's a little too hyperpoetic, but it's an easy mindset to get into when spring's finally come after a long winter.

Long-jawed Orb Weaver in charcoal

Another from the spider display, because I don't have many more doodles saved on my stick to post. Guess I'll have to round up a few more to have their pictures taken.

These spiders are often found near ponds or waterways. They tend to make a tilted web, and they cut the middle out of it so they can move from side to side.

They'll also stretch themselves out to camouflage as a bit of vegetation, but I've spread this one out a little more to give a better idea of the anatomy.

Tulip in pastels

I don't particularly like this one. The colours aren't right, and I hate the paper.

Why is it here, then?

I don't know.

Borrowed Music

starting
with a
single
drum beat
pulsing
comfort
feeling
endless
feeling
one

Then thrown to the pit of
unrelated lines and foreign instruments
each following different tempos
each existing in different notations
each living in different keys
and all
demanding to solo
in cacophonies of
atonal
histrionic
uncompromising
arrogant
scouring
selfish
noise
a secret longing
for a lost
half-remembered
one

and you and so many will stay there
straining too hard to have your voices heard
with thousands of others
straining too hard to do the same

unless
an unfamiliar note causes you to

listen

and in that unfamiliar act you find
the note weaves its way throughout the discord
and once heard
it chooses themes
twines them together
strand by strand
creating harmonies you never realised
though they were there
to be found

and if you find that music
follow
let your self know the rhythm

the song is not for you
and never was
but we are given a few short bars
to join
belong
hear
and know
what it is to be
one

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This was written a while ago and I know what I was trying to do with it, but I'm not sure I quite got it. The structure (yes, there is structure) was meant to move from a simple heartbeat to sudden metric confusion (boy, did I get that part right) through to more of a calmness after listen.

The theme? In a nutshell (although there's a bit more to it than this), I think that if we would learn to listen -- really listen -- rather than forcing our own voices on everyone else, we might be able to make better music. Erm, so to speak. And as for the underlying harmonies... well, they are borrowed. The world, in the largest sense, functions with or without us. The song is always there, whether we're screaming above it or taking the time to try to actually fit ourselves to it.

I vote for the fit, obviously, but not everyone agrees with me there.

Cyclamen in watercolour pencil

Not really so much a drawing of a flower; more me playing around with blending.

Think of it as an abstract, I suppose.

Or an exercise.

Not sure why I even kept it, let alone took a picture of it.

Jewelled Araneus in carbon pencil

Or at least I think it was in carbon pencil. Hard to tell from the scan, but it doesn't look like graphite to me and I don't have the original right here to check.

What can I say? It's been a few years since I did this one.

Araneus gemmoides is a large-ish orb weaver whose most easily distinguished features are the two large bumps on its abdomen. So what do I do but draw the thing from an angle where you can't really see the bumps?...

Gotta wonder what happens in my brain sometimes. Logic certainly doesn't seem to apply.

Eruption

We had no thought of dying before daylight.
True, we'd felt the building move
and heard neighbours remark the rumbling,
but we were used to bombast by this time
and could only tell them
that the mountain knows its place.

So life trudged on,
hiding itself in semblance of routine;
but still we felt the magma surge beneath out feet
and ached to speak but could not
lest the curse upon us be discovered
and the pressure released.

We yearned for a sibyl.

That night
as we stilled our tremblings in the eggshell house
and watched the thickened air ooze from wall to wall
a single whispered word upset the scale
and the world exploded.
We swam in fire until the blood boiled in our brains
and smothered us in our own silence...
in the end
lacking even gods in the heavens
to echo our feeble cries.

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This was brought on by a combination of couple of family violence stories in the news and a documentary on Pompeii. I thought it might be an interesting comparison, but then I got a little stuck and put it away before I'd refined it.

I still haven't refined it.

Am I happy with it? No.

So why am I posting it?



No idea.