Last Post Date Art Blogs (253)

I'm watching a Youtube video of tattoo competition on the show Ink Master.
This episode is a collection of the worst tattoos in the event.
Think before you Ink is the name of one of the teams who failed in a middle round.

What is this ? I see the sun.
I'm grabbing my camera
and I've gotta run.

Icicles & holly await my clicking.
Maybe a winding river panorama
with snow on banks sticking.

What natural surprises await ?
Perhaps a fawn and the mama.
Off I go to enjoy this date.

Endless sea and huge mountains covered hard snow....
- An upliftingly beautiful short video - about the heroic struggle of a little bearcub for the survival...

Tag.) MD reprint...date: 01/26/ 2015....

Storm warning....( Strong Astrophysics..
O918................. O124...red.
5554..rock city.....white. 3835.
.....the. bell.) ....... ...........2250....
3526..washing............6 2 0 9...de moli$h.
2333. Town

---

5859..ruined.
... epilogue....
481..meteor Footnote
.o32. made in China
513...when toilets explode....
..25th Edt. Uncle John's fully loaded bathroom reader.
..page & verse.

All kinds of martial arts karate judo Kung fu and all Bruce lee movies

As something to do during the Covid Lockdowns I started recording myself reciting poetry. Most of them are on facebook but I put some of them onto Youtube. Sooo. I'll drop them here now and again.

THis Is "Another September," by Thomas Kinsella



Dreams fled away, this country bedroom, raw
With the touch of the dawn, wrapped in a minor peace,
Hears through an open window the garden draw
Long pitch black breaths, lay bare its apple trees,
Ripe pear trees, brambles, windfall-sweetened soil,
Exhale rough sweetness against the starry slates.
Nearer the river sleeps St. John’s, all toil
Locked fast inside a dream with iron gates.

Domestic Autumn, like an animal
Long used to handling by those countrymen,
Rubs her kind hide against the bedroom wall
Sensing a fragrant child come back again
– Not this half-tolerated consciousness
That plants its grammar in her yielding weather
But that unspeaking daughter, growing less
Familiar where we fell asleep together.

Wakeful moth wings blunder near a chair,
Toss their light shell at the glass, and go
To inhabit the living starlight. Stranded hair
Stirs on still linen. It is as though
The black breathing that billows her sleep, her name,
Drugged under judgement, waned and – bearing daggers
And balances–down the lampless darkness they came,
Moving like women : Justice, Truth, such figures.

My attempt at poetry.

She asked him how that made him feel.
The women who tore his heart from him.
You will never get that from me again my love.
Silently walking away from her.

The magazine rack at the local Wal-Mart is near the corridor by the registers. On my way out I always notice a memorabilia book about artist Bob Ross. As a kid I remember Bob had a TV show (on public broadcasting) that was as exciting as watching grass grow. My dad watched it in between cat naps!
Bob's art reminded me of the 'starving artists' who would park a truck in an empty lot selling framed murals on black velvet.



The difference was Bob's art was scenic usually with a mountain and waterfall or a lake and a reflection of the moon shimmering over the water. In order to get the shimmering effect, Bob would use white paint at the end. He coined a key phrase "Magic White" to describe the technique that made the reflection stand out in his painting.

From time-to-time someone will reference Bob and his painting skills, usually in jest, but the fact is he had that gig for years and lots of people watched it!