|
|
 *Within 2* 30" H X 24" W Oil On Canvas I’m
Vigorously Rubbing The Lamp ‘Til The Genie Appears To Grant My Desire And Build Up The Fire In My Brain And Hands. “New Work For Old” Is His Command, And I Understand To Freshly Begin, Past Ways Must End.
0 Comments
 If
Fame Should Come, What Then? Pursued, Talked Down Everywhere You Walk, Criticized, Slandered, And Cruelly Imitated, Precious Dreams Negated. Best To Endure, And Remain Obscure, Digging An Artistic Trench, Inch By Toiling Inch, And There The True Glory Lies. Finally, The Work Itself Is The Honor And The Prize.  *Study In Red And Yellow* 16" H X 20" W Oil On Canvas Folks
Insist Events Are “Meant To Be”, However, This Doesn’t Seem To Apply To Me. What’s Worse, I Believe In A Random Universe, And Mostly, What I Do Is Blunder Through. I Love All Those Who Reckon The Fates Open Every Gate, And Romance Has A Plan, Including Another Charming Man, But I Greatly Fear I’ve Only Stumbled, And Somehow, Wound Up Here.  Miss
Peabody’s Left Eye Weeps, Who Knows Why. She Has No Cause To Cry, But A Shining Tear She Can’t Deter Slides Into Dark Fur, As We Hurry To Address This Issue With A Tissue. Maybe She Must, Or It’s The Sun, Or Windy Desert Dust, We Can’t Say, And Dearly Wish This Sad Bit Of Moisture Would Go Away.  *Winter* 20" H X 32" W Oil On Linen The
Furnace Belches Heat To Greet Another Cold Day, As The Sun Parts A Gray Shadowed Sky. I In My Bed Lie, A Dormant Thing, Waiting For Spring. I Must Rise, But Warm And Cozy, Not Too Fast, Making The Lazy Moments Last.  Sluggish
Cars Come And Go, Striping The New Snow, Moving Very Slow. Not Going Out, I’m Glad To Report, As Usual, I’m An Indoor Sport.  Yesterday
Was Spent In Snowing, Whitely Sweet, That Melted When It Hit The Street, But Mantled All The Bare Tree Limbs Windward Clad In Frost, Suggesting Holidays Now Lost, And I Was Glad. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
August 2024
|
RSS Feed