I'm trying to teach myself how to use GIMP....being too cheap to fork out for Photoshop. It's a steep learning curve and I'm still quite baffled. I don't think I'll ever get the hang of digital painting...but this is a doctoring of an oil pastel colouring I did of someone else's line-art.
Which is what my posting history has been like of late. I'm not even sure whether this space will remain -- I'm rather fond of the template, which has held it together this long.
I'm writing a bit in other places...slowly regaining a foothold after yet another tumble off the precipice.....drawing bit, knitting a bit, making stuff that I haven't bothered taking pictures of, exchanging mail-art....but the writing, yeah, the writing. Not so much.
~*~
I got a lovely little book for Christmas....a collection of prompts sort of thing....anyway..this was inspired by a quote left as something to muse on....I used it as a first line of a poem, which didn't really go anywhere, but the journey was quite interesting...
'My head got wet with the midnight sky" ~ Don't Be Weary, Traveler (anon.)
My head got wet with the midnight sky
My lips spoke soft, shimmering, whispering lies.
In the eye of the storm, on the crest of the waves,
In the mists, in the dreaming of beggars and slaves.
At once and again, in the doorway of lights
On the wings of a raven, ride driads and sprites.
Tripping through sunbeams, on snow-covered roofs,
Wild shaggy manes and the drumming of hooves.
Rest now, my angel, let sleep take you down,
Through the valley of waking, past the priest and the clown.
Away to the fen with kaleidoscope eyes
On the threshold of raindrops and jellybean skies.
At the edge of forever, on the brink of before
Step back to tomorrow through an old wooden door.
Let the song weave the Dreaming as you dance down the moon,
A kingdom awaits you, just follow the tune.
I may dismember it and use the parts in other places...there's a whole other stanza that I'm not entirely happy with, although all but the last line feels nice.
elusive, ethereal
he slithers and slips between shadows
and the cracks in the walls
chinks of light behind the stormclouds
flash of silver, gleam of amber
the battered soul-child, darting away
once-loved and nurtured, cherished, adored
then thrown aside, neglected and stung
eyes now of bale-fire, mistrusting, shy
come back, Beloved, stay this time
promises whispered on bended knee
pleadings wrung in the darkness, alone
absolution thrashed from sorrow
broken dreams mended with hope and silver threads
grasped tightly as they flicker in the swirling winds
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