Girl at Table Painting- Janet at the Table

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Janet at Table

girl-at-table-painting-01
girl-at-table-painting

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

End of Summer Painting- by Glenn Merchant

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Summer Painting- The End of Summer

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summer-painting-02

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:

Monet End of Summer Painting
Monet 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.

Hummingbird Poem by Gladys-E_Lawrence

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The Hummingbird
Gladys E. Lawrence
The hummingbird is a tiny bird,
With a very tiny wing,
I’ve seen him flutter and fly about,
But I have never heard him sing.
I’ve seen him drink nectar from the flowers,
With his tiny long, thin beak,
And even then when hard at work,
He never makes a peep.
To keep him in sight is hard to do,
Because he is so fast,
But this tiny bird knows when to go home,
It’s when the summer has past..
So when fall is here and winter has passed,
And the springtime brings the rain,
When the summer is warm and the flowers bloom,
We will see our little friend again.


Music Poem by David Michael Jackson

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Sounds of the music,
windows waiting,
waiting for sunrise,
waiting for sunsets.
Apple dreams of trees laden,
with fruit, laden with
dreamscapes unseen in
daylight, unseen until
we came running across the meadows,
helping ourselves to
life
and we bought in to the
thinking of willow trees and
trumpets, trumpets blowing
blowing for me
blowing for you as the
windows are waiting,
waiting for sunrise, oh
can you hear me singing the
song of living and dying
living and dying in wars of our own
choosing, choosing to lie
in sweet meadows
instead, instead of marching
instead of windows waiting for
sunsets, she was
there with me
her green eyes
smiling
saying
come
back
come back
my love