“Amber” January Blog: Poem, Picture and Song

Hi. Tony here.

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

Happy New Year everyone.



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
 
Continuum: 
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 
running
up a hill 
blue sky
watching grey and pink birds
flying below me
looking at their feathered backs
 
an unusual sight.

LOVE HAS CAUGHT ME
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

LOVE HAS CAUGHT ME

Second verse of “Spark of Life” Song by Tony Chapman and “The Civilized Animal 1” picture by Tony Chapman.

“when winter comes in and the leaves are dying
when blizzards sting and your soul is crying
your father gives up, your mother falls on the floor
The Spark of Life is still there, to reach for”.

“cowboy hat number 5” by Tony Chapman.

Spark of Life song by Tony Chapman VERSE 1 …

(VERSE 2 coming soon)

when the road is broken and the path is bent
when words that were spoken didn’t say what they meant
when a rabbit is caught by an inocent eagle’s claw
the spark of life is still there to reach for

Palace of Versailles (poem) by Tony Chapman

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?

Poem by Robert Desnos

Robert Desnos

I’ve Dreamed of You So Much

I’ve dreamed of you so much that you’re losing your reality.
Is it already too late for me to embrace your living and breathing body
and to kiss that mouth which is the birthplace of that voice so dear to me?
I’ve dreamed of you so much that my arms, grown accustomed to lying crossed upon my own chest in a desperate attempt to encircle your shadow, might not be able to unfold again to embrace the contours of your body.
And coming face-to-face with the actual incarnation of what has haunted me and ruled me and dominated my life for so many days and years
might very well turn me into a shadow.
Oh equilibriums of the emotional scales!
I’ve dreamed of you so much that it might be too late for me to ever wake up again.
I sleep on my feet, body confronting all the usual phenomena of life and love, and yet when it comes to you,
the only being on the planet who matters to me now,
I can no more touch your face and lips than I can those of the next random passerby.
I’ve dreamed of you so much, have walked and talked and slept so much with your phantom presence that perhaps the only thing left for me to do now
is to become a phantom among phantoms, a shadow a hundred times more shadowy
than that shadow which moves and will go on moving,
stepping lightly and joyfully across the sundial of your life.