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Chinese Brush Painting- How-To Part 5 Starting to Paint
Start to turn the stick in a clockwise direction….pretty soon the ink will start
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Chinese Brush Painting- How-To Part 4-Paper
I had great fun, making mine from discarded watercolour paintings, and I incorporated dried flowers
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'A picture paints a thousand words/imaginings' - inspired...
’ a picture paints a thousand words’
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Say "NO!" to the Orphan Works Act Petition
Say “NO!” to the “Orphan Works Act” Online Electronic Petition, Everyone please sign this, its vital to all of us Artists! Thank you.
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RAVENSWOOD ACRES
He told her that he didn’t believe in ghosts. He said that he thought it was just people with overactive imaginations that had indigestion…
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EVERY TIME I THINK OF YOU
Russel tells me horror stories from when he was a child, and spends a lot of time staring at his hand…
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Ready to Die
It is darkness tantalized with mystery, and shares the emptiness I feel in my heart.
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PREMONITION IN THE PARK
...I have always remembered it because not only was it a premonition about what would happen in my future life, it was also one of the scariest dreams I have ever had…
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SURREAL REALITY DESK
But no one really cares, to them she is always naked, clothed or not clothed…
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Do Not Fear Dying-
Coming to terms with my mortality,
I ponder the moments I defied death.
When car lights shot through me,
Exploding on impact, shattering shards,
Scattering debris that disintegrated,
Into the daw… -
To Let
You hid me in the backshed
forced my hand
and held my head
beside the big black copper pot
the one i used to make imaginery witches brew
you
made me promise i would never tell. -
AT DEATH'S DARK DOOR...
I am standing at death’s door
I see his other lovers lying on the floor
I don’t want to be one of his lovers
I don’t want to end up under his covers… -
VENOM
I don’t believe
I don’t want you to leave
but i know that you can’t stay
i’ve felt the sting of your bite
venom with an ounce of delight
with a smile you slither away. -
LOST IN THE MIST
I couldn’t had will to resist
i drifted away with the mist
i lost myself in the mist -
Post Mortem
My brother sits on mother’s shelf
In sombre hues of grey
Like flower plucked and soon to fade
But captured for a dayThe wringing hands and ceaseless tears
One week stretched out for many years…
