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Grimberian, apparently
Indigenous
That’s what I am
Of fisher folk
The yellow yolk
A pontoon man
They still forget
My escape act
Shifty flit
I chomped the bit
After the fact
Looking back
I realise
These words alone
Cannot atone
For all those lies
Morn @IMcMillan
Corner.
Small strips of collaged tapestry with oil paints, charcoal and printing on card.
#landscape #mixedmedia #collage
Synonym
In shouting
At the builders she
Identified as wanting
Just to be…
To live in peace
Unchangingly
For 30 years
All to a tee
And never doldrums-like
At sea, she
Planted orchards
Roman tree
And castle keeps
For land of free
In some ways
She was just like me
M @IMcMillan
Edges
Is it like this
Every time?
An open husk
A crack of rhyme
A wooded slope
Scree of leaves
And in the lee
Where darkness cleaves
Broken trunks
Split by gods
Roots tormented
Clasping sods
Stricken nature
Tooth and claw
Earth’s open wounds
All churned and raw
M @IMcMillan
Ah yes, those were the days.
Oil on canvas, free gift to @YoungMindsUK on the occasion of their celebration of yellowness one year ago today.
Sentinels. Leaves, prints and oddments in a #mixedmedia #landscape on the back of a large engineering drawing.
Unlearning
Fate decrees
Evolving states
History’s breeze
Through swinging gates
For dying stays
Our absolute
Finite days
Of ill repute
And with each age
We learn anew
Before our rage
Leads us to
The same inaction
Life’s raw deal
The reinvention
Of the wheel
Morn @IMcMillan
Status
Why point an accusation
At the street
Or simmer in a box
Of moulded steel?
The gods of progress falter
On clay feet
Yet cannot easily
Be brought to heal
They say that soon we’ll die
With excess heat
And keeping up will lose
It’s grim appeal
Morn @IMcMillan