Fog

FOG

At the age of seven you first saw the fog.
At the age of eleven all you could see was fog.

And there was no-one to help you.

Who could help? Your mother? Your father? Fog is all around them; your mother hasn’t seen the light for a very long time.
Your brother? Even though he lives in the room across the hall, he had left home a very long time ago.
Your teachers? How could they help? With a class of thirty – two, how could they even notice you?

You can’t escape fog, no window or door can hold back fog.
And once fog has entered your room, it leaves its scent all around.
Fog leaves your clothes and sheets feeling damp, your pillowcase smelling of mould.

Fog comes and never lets the light in again.
Fog is cold and wet.
Fog is thick and dense.
Fog is all around you.
Fog is like watching the world through tears, but the salt stings on the inside.

And one day fog is all that there is.

At the age of seven you first saw the fog, at the age of eleven all you could see was fog and at the age of sixteen you decided there was nothing left to see.

Raven July 24th 2005

Fog

Raven5

Melbourne, Australia

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Artist's Description

This is one of my poems, it was published abou a year ago; I intend to write a book of poetry with illistrations over the next 12 months.

sometimes imagies come to me and those I paint and sometimes words comes to me and those I write, I’m not sure where everything comes from, it can be the oddest thing and yet its the most powerful of feelings.
Raven.

Artwork Comments

  • cdcantrell
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