I've been busy over the past few days painting over 60 watercolours to illustrate a book of poems I'm formatting. I write a poem a day in 2010 and I'm finally getting round to putting a book together. The paintings are often splotty and abstracted. About half have been rejected so far so I'll repaint those; my criteria has been speed, but that's led to some good ones as well as bad. The picture above is for a poem called My Mind is Full of Weeds.
Here is Artemis Dream, a rather abstract and surreal poem in itself.
Lots more to do. I've run out of paper at the moment. Here is the image for The Italian Bedroom with the poem below.
The Italian Bedroom
There's nothing he can do but lie awake
as yellow light in beams envelops all.
Slow spiral-turning water on the lake.
The cracks and mould upon the plaster wall.
His voice is silent waiting for the call
from love afar, in English winter's breath.
She writes the lines as sunlight starts to fall,
soft violet words of his Elizabeth.
The scented lines that dance towards a crawling death.
