Poems (8)

 

Callings are sometimes quiet, sometimes very loud- still we fear the changes and shake up they will bring. Here in a very quick way I caught the thought going through my mind as I knew that time of playing safe was well overdue...

 

There are those rather rare moments when we are caught in self-reflection over meaning of life. It could be in the morning before the house wakes up or in the evening when we step into the quiet garden. Sometimes it happens during short daily breaks when we are left to alone to meet our mind's wonders. Here was my wonder in one of those moments...

As years pass by we slowly start realising that collection of days, months, seasons and years happens without our control and kind of between the lines. We are trapped in daily repetition of tasks and activities like unconscious creatures acting in some kind of trans without any reflection. Then sometimes we stop when we are caught in the ordinary moment of extraordinary- maybe the shape of clouds seen through the window, maybe the random melody on the radio...And we wonder..Where did life go? Life goes on every day, every mundane minute and second...We breathe in and breathe out past all the time. Short poem that crossed my soul when I thought about it...

 

“Breathing paint”

 

It is the paint that makes me breathe. I almost suffocated myself once without it. I was not painting for a long while of over 30 years of my life. I was somewhere there far away in human fake world of fighting egos and meaningless conversations. My days were filled with a nonsense of daily living for nothing more than mere feeding, working, commuting, maintaining, sleeping and repeat mode. It lasted years, many years and almost killed me. I was about to grasp the very last, desperate air of life when painting appeared…

We painters live to paint. Nothing more nothing less.  

 

 Simple poem about how busy our life become to the degree we simple forget to live and end up cancelling appointment with our own existence...Put the phone down today and forget about emails for 10 minutes, sit and read...

Sometimes you can find yourself confused and questioning what is that all life and passing time about? Are we living to the deepest level or just passing by...

Reflection on passing time and aging, when we suddenly come to realisation this is it- time has come. This was prompt by my family situation but there are often other moments in life when we ask "it that it, now?".

One evening this poem entered my heart when I felt that my soul was trying to whisper where to go...

Let your art talk...