Day: August 7, 2023

My first drawing class


Paralysed by dread, my hand was still
Afraid to make a mark on that blank page.
I thought to make it move by force of will

I measured with my finger joints, [new skill]
Then with my charcoal,l I became engaged
Tormented by sheer dread, my fingers full

With charcoal, pencil, fountain pen or quill
Human down the ages have portrayed
I tried to make an image by my will

My body sweated like ten waterfalls well full
My eyes gazed and my mind became engaged
Touched by dread, my hand moved like a bull.

I’d measured, so I let it rush about unlulled
My eyes were pleased with this dramatic page
I thought I’d made it move by my own will

And so I am at one with every age
Promiscuous is my love but well arranged
Paralysed by dread, my hand was still
Until desire was stronger than my will

The hand upon my tiller

Come back to me, my sweetheart
Don’t leave me all alone.
Come back to me, my darling
I can’t believe you’ ve gone.
I’m crying ‘cos I’m feeling blue again.
I’m crying’cos I’m falling like a stone.

Oh, let me tempt you with my beauty
And my voice forever young.
Let me tempt you with my spirit
My laughter and my songs.
I’m crying ‘cos I never did you wrong.
I’m crying ‘cos with you I  still belong.

I thought maybe I’d follow,
To see where you have gone
But there’s a hand upon this tiller
That is not mine alone.
I’m crying ‘cos I wrote this old blue song.
I’m crying ‘cos I’ve been lonely for too long.

The hand upon my tiller
The mystery of the dark
The unknown one who lives in me
And sings like a skylark.
I’m singing ‘cos I wrote you a new song.
I’m singing ‘cos the cat ain’t got my tongue.

Beneath the seas

My heart is like a rowing boat adrift
Whose occupant has fallen overboard

The empty vessel drifts through deep sea mist.
And in those pearl filled ears the deep sea roars.
Just as the boat drifts mapless, so do I.
My maps were drawn for quite another sea
My captain’s taken leave and now I cry
As if that drowned soul might just be me.
Yet on the sea bed mysteries abound;
Such wonders and such magic there displayed.
I wonder if it is my lot drown
And to a memory then quickly fade.
Maps are no more certainties than hints.
Between the lines hides gold from other mints