David Jackson Spring Storm
The sky has given over
its bitterness.
Out of the dark change
all day long
rain falls and falls
as if it would never end.
Still the snow keeps
its hold on the ground.
But water, water is seething
from a thousand runnels.
It collects swiftly,
dappled with black
cuts a way for itself
through green ice in the gutters.
Drop after drop it falls
from the withered grass stems
of the overhanging embankment.
***
Wall Art, a Mural
This is an abstract I painted on a wall in my house. You can repaint the wall after I’m gone. It is a all mural……I happen to like the colors. I’m not sure if the profile is saying phooey to the world orwhy he’s sticking his tongue out. I never intended a statement of any kind. It’s just a mural which will be lost as the new tenant goes, “Oh my let’s paint over that! What will peoiple think.”
We I think it’s quite pretty.
david michael jackson April 14 2012
It’s Spring Poem
It’s spring here
or so they tell us
the squirrels don’t care
the weather’s not sure
Summer’s coming
always is, at the equator
deer rummage the forest floor
foxes bathe their pups
and the sun knows
Somewhere it’s autumn
the birds nest anyhow
dandelions grow, smiling
the grass stands up and moves
I, myself feel cool
Winter at the Pole
geese hiss their goslings
into bluebells, dancing
and the stream rushes along
he knows where he’s going
Spring is here
again without a timepiece
nature lets loose her bounty
the ice slinks into the water
time and infinity know.
Copyright © 1998 by Marilyn McIntyre, All rights reserved
Janet at Table
Here is a painting I did of Janet at the table. I have no idea where this painting is. I have only this image. The girl at table painting still exists somewhere in the world. It represents a time when my wife was here.
An old poem I wrote for Janet many years ago:
I am worn weathered wood.
I have seen the storms,
felt the hot sun,
endured the wind until
I am cracked.
My colours have faded into
burnt siennas from red under
the sun’s rays.
I have seen the owl at night and
the hawk in the day for
I am a window in this wood,
this weathered wood.
I am a window or
I am nothing.
I am a window.
Sneek up, take a peek
into my panes.
She will be there, sitting
at the table
having her tea
or holding her cat
quietly
for Mary Janet Jackson on this sping day April 4, 2012 …david michael jackson
Summer Painting- The End of Summer
This summer painting really reminds me of summer.It is by Tennessee Artist Glenn Merchant. This is an abstract painting of a tree. The colors play with the eye. I really like the tree.
Here is and end of summer poem by Wayne Jackson (1951-1989)
August laughing wind
bouncing against the open window
extending a finger
into the corner of the summer
to ease the curtain aside
and gently blow a kiss
on my sweating brow
Here is Monet’s End of Summer Painting:
Claude Monet End of Summer
There are certainly similarities in color relationships here. Merchant is a more modern form of Monet, drifting into abstraction, but with the same intent, to capture the colors of the moment. To excite the eye.