SUNDAY POETRY
MY WORK HAS ALWAYS BEEN INFLUENCED BY POETRY. IT MAY IN FACT BE ABOUT POETRY. WRITING AND READING POETRY IS KEY TO MY PRACTICE, AS WELL AS MY PERSONAL COPING MECHANISMS, AND HAS ALWAYS BEEN. THE POETIC IMAGE, TIED TO THE SUBCONSCIOUS AND ALSO THE UNIVERSAL, IS SOMETHING I TRY TO COMMUNICATE THROUGH MY ARTWORK - THAT SOMETHING THAT TIES TOGETHER ALL OUR EXPERIENCES INTO ONE UNIFIED FELT EXPERIENCE OF LIFE. THIS HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE WORLD I LIVE IN, AND THE ONE I UNDERSTAND.
I'M NOT A POET, BUT I DO WRITE POETRY SOMETIMES. ON SUNDAYS I'D LIKE TO SHARE IT WITH YOU, ALTHOUGH HOPEFULLY EARLIER THAN I AM POSTING TONIGHT.
MORNING'S PAST
IN THE MORNING
SHE COMES TO YOU.
AGAIN
AGAIN
LOOKING FOR LOST THINGS:
MEANINGS OF SHADOWS, OF RUSHING WATER,
PARTIES IN PINK, INSCRIPTIONS IN GOLD,
A BOWL OF SPOONS, EACH WITH A STORY,
OURSELVES- ONCE TRANSIENT, CENTERED IN HER EYES.
TO A CERTAIN EXTENT, WE COULD NEVER HAVE BEEN TOGETHER.
SHE WAS ALWAYS A TOUCH OF BRIGHTNESS TOO MUCH
AND LONG OVERDUE.
YOU WERE TOO SHALLOW FOR HER THEN, TOO VACANT
AS HER LOSS SWELLED, THEN ROARED,
HER HANDS GUIDED ALONG BANISTERS AND PARTED TALL GRASSES
YOU, IN THE CITY BEHIND, ALONE WITH THE OTHERS
HER, FOLLOWING CHURCH BELLS, RINGING
YOU, SILENT IN THE CHATTER, A SPUTTERING LAUGH
THOUGH THE RINGS SOUNDED, THROUGH THE PANES, AND AGAIN-
YOU HEARD HER.
SHE COMES TO YOU.
IN THE MORNING.
BUT YOU THEN, LOOKING UP, WAITING FOR THE BELLS
LINGERING IN THE FIELDS,
YOU WAIT.
THOUGH SHE COMES TO YOU.
AND IS LONG OVERDUE.
18.03.2016
AIRDRIE, AB
