“Amethyst” Picture, Poem and Song

Portrait (oil on canvas) by Tony Chapman

 Ireland Holiday. 
Poem by Tony Chapman - finished.
Ireland Holiday.
All good things
to an end.
barbed wire
rusty edges.
A happy time was had by all
all good things come to an end. 
Bare your teeth
bite the hand
that doles out good times
then takes them back.
the sunset:
into a black, lead-lined box.
Bury it out on the mud flats.
the grey stone hills
the curlew's call
the rock wall
the torn sky
the seabird‘s cry
the warm wind
the salt sea
the soft arm
the breath of life
the embrace
the laughter
that releases
dry leaves and flying bullets
into a black box
(lead-lined for preservation)
and bury it
far out ,
on the mud flats
so it won't be found
for a million years
wander back
to the concrete jungle:
twisting of limbs
paintscraper of skins
sandpaper of bones.
All good things
to an end.

Verse 4 of Love Has Caught Me …. verse 5 in next Blog

then I meet your eyes, and all the skies they no longer cave-in on me

and I touch your skin, you let me in and I’m living in exstacy


“Amber” Poem, Picture and Song

Hi. Tony here.

3 Surreal creations by me . .. to ease you, gently, into the new year:

Happy New Year everyone.

Drawing by Tony Chapman.

Bedtime Poem by Tony Chapman.
I'm riding the hint of a wave
as the twisting clouds expand and contract 
and the birds whirl, grey and pink
amongst its billowing whiteness, above me
Mum's overcoat is under the ground  
Dad's overcoat is there too
life is too ludicrous for words
perhaps only writing is real
now to sleep, as the night falls 
and the last-post bugle blows
and the man in the moon closes his eyes.
Now I'm 
up a hill 
blue sky
watching grey and pink birds
flying below me
looking at their feathered backs
an unusual sight.

written by Tony Chapman
Verse 1 only (verse 2 in next blog):

I   tumble and spin, want to get in

but I’m stuck out here in no-man’s land

I knock on you’re door, I want you more

but you’re slipping right through my hand


Maze Drawings by Tony Chapman

spontaneous writing on my very own blog: hurtles, backfiring, over the crescent of the yellow hill, dazzled by sunflowers and a myriad daisies and yellow tulips and multiple suns and I’ve been brain washed to thinking what I write and draw can never be quite good enough… what do you think?