Blog Archives - High Desert Art

High Desert Art

Timepiece

10/30/2022

Great
Aunt
Elinor
Had
Clocks
In
Every
Room,
None
Of
Which
Kept
Time,
As
Though
She
Could
Halt
The
Hours
Steady
Climb.
As
A
Kid,
I Reckoned
What
She
Did
Was
A
Form
Of
Art,
In
Which
Her
Collection
Played
A
Part.
Elinor
Grew
Quite
Old,
And
When
Her
House
Of
Stone
Was
Sold,
The
Clocks
Went
Someplace,
Likely,
The
Hands
Still
Paused
On
Each
Antique
Face.

Voyage

10/28/2022

I Rise
To
Ride
The
Rapids
Of
The
Day,
Hoping
To
Sail
Far
Enough
Away
To
Catch
The
Elusive
Whirlpool
Thought,
That
With
A
Shout,
Draws
The
Soul
Into
A
Dizzy
Spin,
Whispers
Secrets,
Then
Casts
Me
Out.

Doubts

10/26/2022

*Woman Speaking* 20" H X 16" W Acrylic On Canvas

When
I Fret
About
All
The
Things
I’m
Not,
I Drop
That
Notion
Like
It’s
Hot.
Sure,
I Carry
My
Bundle
Of
Regret,
But
I’m
Not
Dead
Yet,
There’s
Still
Hope.
Life’s
A
Slippery
Slope,
And
I’m
Too
Busy
To
Mope.

Memoir

10/24/2022

*Woman In A Black Hat* 32" H X 24" W Oil on Linen

Past
Triumphs
Fade
Like
Autumn
Leaves,
And
Gently
Fall.
Few
Care
To
Hear
It
All
Recited
From
Afar,
Like
A
Play
Where
You’re
The
Star,
And
Gradually,
Recollections
Of
That
Grand
Time
When,
Fall
Silent,
And
Tremble
To
An
End.

Boy With Rabbit

10/22/2022

*Sir Henry Raeburn*

Gloriously
Young,
All
Songs
Yet
Unsung,
He
Rehearses
What
He’ll
Say
On
That
Decision
Day
When
The
Question
Is
Asked,
When
The
Grand
Entrance
Can
Be
Made,
And
He,
Blade
Sharp,
Will
Know
Which
Way
To
Go.

Rejection

10/20/2022

Tell
Them
If
There’s
No
Seat
For
Me,
I’ll
Stand
In
The
Hall,
Sing
For
All
I’m
Worth,
And
Push
The
Gatekeepers
Off
My
Earth.

Visitor

10/18/2022

*Angel In Wood* Carved Walnut 40" Tall 40 Pounds

Ferocious
As
Summer,
Blasting
In
Exuberant,
Shimmering
With
Heightened
Light
All
Around
And
Round,
Beguiling,
Smiling,
Taking
Walls
Down
Until
Love
Towers
In
The
Zenith
Of
Power
And
Bursts
Into
Bloom,
Filling
My
Empty
Room.

Brunch

10/16/2022

*Pierre Bonnard*

Sunday
Morning
Love
Among
The
Dishes
And
The
Crusts,
Toasted
Kisses
Are
A
Must,
And
Jugs
Of
Juicy
Hugs,
All
Sweet
As
Strawberry
Preserves,
Are
What
We
Need,
And
Happily,
Deserve.

Dried

10/14/2022

*Dan Routh*

A
Water
Main
Cracked,
Causing
A
Midnight
Flood,
And
Now
Our
Street
Is
Caked
With
Mud.
Cars
Race
By,
Raising
A
Dust,
But
The
Ancient
Pipe
Had
Turned
To
Rust.
When
Rain
Will
Come
Is
Anyone’s
Guess,
So
We’re
Slightly
Stuck
With
The
Mess,
Reducing
Our
Domicile
To
A
Hovel.
Come
On
Over,
And
Bring
A
Shovel.

On Writing

10/12/2022

I’m
Shrugging
Off
A
Deep
Dejection
Over
My
Latest
Literary
Rejection.
Although
I Sharply
Regret
It,
The
MS
Failed
My
Editor’s
Edit,
And
It
Was
Turned
Down,
Tumbling
My
Ambition
To
The
Ground.
Of
Course,
I Thought
It
Pretty
Good,
As
Any
Writer
Should,
And
It’s
Terrible
Cruel,
But
Being
A
Stubborn
Fool,
I’ll
Put
It
Aside
And
Carry
Right
On,
Despite
My
Injured
Pride,
Write
It
All
Another
Way,
And
Have
My
Say.