Every night

I found a poem I did not write

With my own hand, cruel words of spite

Addressed to you, I did not send

My shattered heart I will now tend

Yet every night, roused from my sleep

I’ll wake to paper cuts so deep
I found a song I could not play

And from the stage, I slipped away

Denying notes I’d surely known

Molto allegro now disowned

Yet every night, roused from my rest

The forlorn melody beats in my chest

A colourful share

I know so much of The Wandering Armadillo shall be my own work, but from time to time I will be compelled to share brilliance stemming from the arts. A small token of my admiration.

I adore this artist’s work! It is almost how I see the world and why I travel so slowly. Senses overwhelmed by the magic of it all. Absorbing every detail, with the saturated colours exploding.

May your day be filled with blasts of colour,  scents of nature and a smile for a stranger. Enjoy!

 

Australian painter, sculptor and print maker Marie Jönsson-Harrison is known globally for her colourful and energetic “Naïve” and “Outsider” Art. Outsider Art, writes Gloucestershire-based artist, lecturer and art therapist David Maclagan (as I have already mentioned): refers, in a very open-ended way, to extraordinary works created by people who are in some way on the margins of society, and […]

via Marie Jönsson-Harrison: Naïve and Outsider Art in Paintings, Prints and Sculptures — On Art and Aesthetics

Thanks Tulika B, I love your articles!

 

 

Consider the Sky

I have the great fortune of living in the sky, many floors high. Gazing West.

Every evening I observe an ever changing, dynamic interplay of currents that toss and tickle the layers of clouds. Celestial exhalations like God’s soft breath create unique patterns. Another beautiful sky tonight. Be mindful of nature’s exquisite elements. 

Consider the sky. 

Not this time

The child that never came

sits in the room corner of my subconscious

Soot layers of maternal inclination coat the weathered chair

Stagnant air surrounds

with barren stillness
His curled fingers clutch at bare knees

Worn dominos

from endless play lie at his feet

His calm stare has stopped asking ‘when’

My eyes once again downcast

Not this time

I am the "little armored one", moving gently through life. Hoping to safeguard my sensitivities with layers of words and the expression of thought. Shielding my mirror neurons at times, or tasting music and spinning till I'm dizzy. Every moment here is a gift.