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Long To Get Away From The Tiresome Every Day? Pack A Grip And Take A Trip, Row Your Self And Friend To Where The Star Light Bends, And Among The Pleiades, Satisfy Your Needs For Space And To Escape The Faulty Human Race.
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 *The Sellers Of Oranges* 11" H X 14" W Oil On Canvas Traveling
South On A Train, The Morning After Heavy Rain, The Window Furred With Mist, Kissed With Grime, The Track Echoing Back Forgotten Time, Flying Past A Shack And Farmhouse Stand, A Breakfast Orange In My Hand, Headed For The Promise Land.  *Endless Highway* Bob Dylan Neighbor
Man Drives His Clan In A Dented Dodge Van. The License Plate Has Lost A Screw And Hangs Askew. This Sets My Universe Ajar, Do They Not Notice Their Own Car, Or Is That How Preoccupied They Are? Caught In A World Of Inanity, This Specimen Of Solemn Paternity Every Day Ferries Them All Away On The Endless Road To Eternity.  *Fabrizio Cassetta* Watercolor Portrait of W.S. I read
And Hear Again The Timeless Voice Of Him Who Made The Choice To Limn Life’s Squalor And Beauty, Which Is A Writer’s Sacred Duty. With Every Word He Had To Say, In Every Heartfelt Sonnet And Insightful Play, He Shaped The Myriad Ways We Live Today, And Deserves Our Praise.  The
Lovely Garden That You Kept Until It Flourished, Ever Nourished By Your Hands, Becomes Another’s Lands As You Move On To Find New Roots, Replacing Blossoms Left Behind.  *Standing Mother And Child* Steel on Pine Base 6 1/8" H He
Came About In A Brief Impulse Of Relief, Winter Love By A Parting Pair And Raised On Air, Soon Learned Reality Was Not Quite There, But Ever Turning Back To Track Days Past That Did Not Last But Left Their Mark To Remind Him Life Is Not Kind And Must Be Shaped To Fit His Mind.  Rain
Today, Blowing Spring Away, Bending The Rose Bush, Scattering New Leaves In A Chilly Push. The Blooms Hold Fast As The Gusts Rush Past, The Blossoms Facing Up, To Catch The Droplets Like A Cup.  *The Pursuit Of Love* Oil On Paper Weep
Scented Tears And Cast Your Mind Back Over Years To Find How Each Blind Baseless Fear Squandered Time And Chance, Then Dry Your Eyes And Savor The Romance In Song And Story Of Those Who Found The Key To Truly Be.  *David Collins* Happy Birthday Yesterday
Or the day before We walked from the Metropolitan Talking about the show, Over to Madison Avenue Stopping at all the bookstores. You bought me those Slender books on art We made a collection of, Two rare ones, One Matisse, One Modigliani. And on down Madison Past the antique shops And the restaurants and That funny hardware store Which never had What we were looking for. And the stores full of gaud And the crowds pulsing And the traffic churning by, All the way to Thirty-Third Street. All the way holding hands, Only yesterday Or the day before? I only remember It was spring.  *Marcus Stone* Oil On Canvas The
Tilted Language Of Another Age Builds My Story Of Bygone Glory. People Love And Rage On Every Page And I know Them, Know Them Like No Others, What They Are And Mean, Although Two Centuries Lie Between Them And Me, Divided By Time’s Restless Sea. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
May 2019
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