Not many words Leonard. Your songs filled my ears and touched my heart.
…into my coffee, the hundred-morning count, bottom-swirled beauty.
Deep breathing exercises for 20 inhalations.
Count down. Fire. I crave your steam, all black and hot.
The wind is stirring my dirt, with rain and scents in crisped and brown. You are here, time wound, now sprung. Floating delivery, you brought me here.
Yesterday was John Lennon’s birthday. He would have been 75, which seems impossible because both he and The Beatles feel ageless. The scent of new releases all on vinyl, is imprinted not only throughout my life experiences, but tinctured in olfactory memory. The power of youth and growing older, would be impossible to paint without his lyrics, politics and passions.
Having been of age to be drafted, his efforts along with others, helped end the senseless war in Vietnam. He helped save me and gave anthems to march, to walk and to make love; not war.
I asked a server over coffee today, if Lennon was relevant to her. Sadly and unpredictably, the 20 something said no. I had heard of many people several years younger, who think he and The Beatles are as important today, if not more.
I hope this is true.
Lennon with partners, illustrated my youth and who I am today. He will always be Mr. Kite, Marmalade Skies and Revolution.
My heart feels “danced” when hands go zoom. Why not? I’m the artist and I do as I feel. At least with my artwork.
How about some fun with shapes and vessels.
Put in a little wine and Grand Marnier, and one has pours of spirit.
I’m the hollow howl, the 50 hour week, with a cavity filled too deep. Just feelings with no complaints. My haunch tickles and guess I took it.
A single flower illuminates a confit du canard, with a wine glass appropriately sized. Smells and touch; many textures. I miss speaking a language whose melody is sung in alley cafes.
Parts are home in memory. Parts are waiting for new eyes and newer touch.
Yes, another croissant, but it’s butter and more colorful. It was gently discussed earlier that maybe my Dr. Ph. Martin’s were not as vibrant as they could have been. So here is my second attempt.
Plus, no coffee in this sketch, for those who dislike. Hrumph.