Painting
Poem
Song
Painting
“Moon 23” by Tony Chapman (oil on Canvas)
Poem
Plane Poem 3 - I Am Now Writing a Song. (Written in an aeroplane, above the clouds, where the the sun always shines). Poem by Tony Chapman - finished. I Am Now Writing a Song. Plane Poem 3 First Part of Poem . .. Second part in Next blog. 1. I am now writing a song. Look at it jump from a pink, cherry-blossom bough., its pink, cherub-wings fluttering, as it spirals, gently, to the soft green grass below, holding a frilly, lady's handkerchief to its pink cherub-lips, its little fingers raised daintily (like posh, English tea-drinkers) and a cartoon speech-bubble emerges from its rose-bud mouth, growing larger and larger, filled with white space. The speech-bubble separates from My Song's cherubic lips and rises into the sky, growing. These words appear, inside its perimeters: "Hold on to your dreams ... don't ever let go, ever!" and a thousand finger-cymbals tinkle, daintily and the speech bubble and its words expand and stretch across, spanning the whole chalk-blue sky, horizon to horizon. 1 am now writing a song. 2. 1 am now writing a song. Look at it jump from the canvas-covered, wooden-framed wing of a high-flying 1st World War biplane, parachute-less, but instead of falling, My Song rises, up, up, up, through the thin stratosphere veil, into the dark vacuum of outer-space. It heads out, all holds barred, toward the moon, cartoon jet-flames and movement-parentheses behind it! 3. I'm writing, now, a song. Look at it twist like a sixties disco-dancer under a glitter-ball, like a half-lemon twisting on a hand-juicer, like a rolling crocodile twisting off the leg of a gazelle, like the fairground, spiral-slide tower of a DNA's double helix, (hurtling around its curves on its raffia mat), like the kinks in a serial killer's synaptic paths, like a corkscrew proudly showing off its cork squeaked out of a knocked-over Cabreli wine bottle, whose ruby-red wine is spreading outwards like a pool of blood on a heroine-white, cashmere rug, like a dizzy roller coaster ride, where the sky and landscape spin around you, above and below, upside down while you remain upright [Second part of this poem in next Blog.]
Song
Gone to Ground written by Tony Chapman :
Gone to Ground:
words and music by Tony Chapman (copyriqhted)
F Em(with an extra HIGH C )
Your wife wants a new couch, you want a photo room
Eb6 D7
Your kids want the beach, you want your paints to bloom
C#mj7 C F
There's a noise outside drowning your inner sound
Ab Eb Bb2 F
Your true self has gone to ground
You've done your job too long, want to write poetry
Car needs fixing, you want to draw the trees
That puppy once so sweet is a hell hound
Your true self has gone to ground
Gm Am Bb C
But its not too late, never too late, even if your ninety-eight
F# Ebm C C+
You can still turn round fate, and open the gate
instrumental over verse
Duty blackmails, you drag your feet each day
Coulds, shoulds, whirlpool in your way
Where's that child so young and the joy he'd found
Your true self has gone to ground
Your true self has gone to ground
Agh…..(unaccompanied to the end)
Your true self has gone to ground
Your true self has gone to ground
