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 *Warren Keating* Storm Warning
Rain In The Evening, And All Through The Night The Wind Blew, Spattered The Windows And Flooded The Walk, Murmuring Rain Talk, Autumn, Autumn, In A Low Hum, Beware, Take Care, Soon Winter Will Come.
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 *Raised Copper Figure* Hangs: Mounted On Rosewood 14" H X 5 1/4" W Metal
In Sculpture, Material Dictates Form, And Is Often Accepted As The Norm, But The Trick Is To Take What Is There And Make It Into Some Thing Rare, That Before, Wasn’t There. With A Hammer And A Blade, To Raise A Hidden Shape, And See What You Have Made.  *The Road To Arroyo Seco* Oil On Paper Time Travel
The Road Climbs Ever Up, Through The Mountain Passes, Rust Hills On Either Side, The Spaces Opening Wide. There Is A Sense Of Anticipation, Murmuring Ghosts Of A Lost Indian Nation, On And Up, The Sky An Inverted Cup, To Come At Last Into A Fading Vision Of The Past, With Nothing There But Sunlight And Brilliant, Empty Air.  *Spirit Of Water* 36" H X 30" W Oil On Linen New Mexico
The Spirit Of Water, The Natives Declare, Flows Underground And All Around. Down From The Mountain In A Fresh Fountain, To Ditches Guarded By Arroyo Witches. There, They Say, It Is Carried Away Into The Rio Grande To Flow Up Through The Sand And Over The Land, Swift And Free, To Sweeten The Sea.  Five AM
I wake Again, A Sudden Rush Of Rain Pattering The Window Pane. Thunder Rumbles And Stone Clouds Tumble. Autumn, That Lusty Fellow, Slips In To Turn The Tree Leaves Yellow, And Silently Leaches Summer Green From The Grass, As Chill Hours Pass In Dawn Showers.  *Nude In Landscape 2* 16" H X 20" W Oil On Linen Slumber
Dreamer, Couched Among The Flowers, By The Sparkling Stream In Solitary Hours, Lost In A Fervid Tale Of Danger And Romance, Waiting, Perchance For A Lover, Who Will Find Her Amid Nature’s Sheltering Cover.  *Santa Fe* 30" H X 24" W Oil On Canvas High
The Thing About Santa Fe Is Nothing There Is Everyday. Somehow, I step Back In Time With Every Foot I climb To Come At Last To Merge Into The Past. Seven Thousand Feet High, Clouds And Holiday Crowds Swirl By, And There Above It All, The Mountains Cast Their Eternal Thrall, Whispering Come, Come, And Forget Your Useless Regret.  *Monsoon Sky* 16" H X 20" W Oil On Linen* Above
In New Mexico June And July, You Can See The Monsoon Sky. Clouds Gather To Fill The View, Reflecting The Sun To The Desert Dry, Turning The Mountains Purple And Blue, Making The Sands A Golden Hue. Soon, The Billows Will Darken To The Color Of Pain, And Bring Sweet Rain.  *Landscape 2* Oil On Paper Vista
Autumn Hills, Rainbow Colors In The Rifts And Rills. Fragile Hues That They Will Lose To Greys And Browns As Winter Frowns And In Chill Hours Freezes The Mountain Flowers.  *A Summer Afternoon* 12" H X 10" W Oil On LInen At Five
I would Grow To Be A Hero, I was Sure It Would Be So. Little Did I know. My Brother In His Flight, My Father In The Night, My Mother A Faded Image, My Dog To Old Age. That World Became An Empty Page. Memory Lost, The Cost Too Steep To Pay, Soon Fell Away. Yet Here I labor, On, All Of Them Gone. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
November 2021
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