home

mersey moonlight and shine
across the hills
to river dee,
wind whispers
in the trees and grass,
of park
and shipyard sinew,
bricks of sweat and toil,
urban sprawl,
where smugglers coins
fell to sand,
lighthouse flickers
seen by little eye,
sandstone tremors
and gentle veil of mist,
i feel home
cradled by the lake
and shivering masts
of a yachting few

                       

           

all photographs copyrighted to Karen Lawrence / SpikeyMouse Photography and all images and others can be bought at

http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/karen-lawrence.html?tab=artwork

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fictive beat

W/O/M/A/N
gone into abstraction
gitane smoke before the rain,
cello case velvet interior
soft and firm

W/O/M/A/N
breasts and silk once seen on canvas
could not concede to his kisses
or arch of bow
he had to wander

W/O/M/A/N
no more companion
than those strings he manipulated
with fingers callused,
she will not tremor

W/O/M/A/N
as absent as the background
waiting for a taxi,
rain effective conduit
to her misery,
he sheltered the cello
with umbrella
heading to a jazz club

W/O/M/A/N
is the beat
is the tender thrum,
a cello’s true heart
and poets calling,
absinthe and kisses
parted stocking thighs
he had found another
W/O/M/A/N

Musician in the Rain by Robert Doisneau

 

 

dancer 95

violin bow cu through gelatin
as outstretched arm
folding it under her chin
tremor of strings felt in her loins
of love beyond passion
love beyond denial,
for this man much older
who watched damp eyed
each point and step
holding pose for sulfur flash
yet moonlight and day
better illuminated
caught in a dark place
yet so natural
she would ascend
imprinted and recognized
after camera covered away
she danced
knowing now also caught
on paper in charcoal
it may of been the end
but she reached to the future
moving expressively
beyond fantasy

Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas

Degas self portrait 1895

Ernest Chausson

Helen Hahn performs Ernest Chausson Poeme Op 25

washed over

awakened by sailors milky tears

from depths beyond the sun

she rose red ribbon bound

born of shell and bone,

sand shifted

muted fish schools scattered

his embrace she sought,

scarecrow masted vessel

dashed upon sharp geology,

to safety they leaped,

cruel sky streaked by storm

and acoustic rumble,

body battered in dinghy lay

hand outstretched

fingertips testing jagged surface,

light shone and radiated

in her eyes as close rose

long limbed form kelp caressed

finding him now face down

closer towards him,

lifting his frame from sea to shore

air sharp on lungs

heart pounding,

ship exploded a desolate fireball

as she bowed over him

lips to his,

spluttering coughing

found himself exhausted

and willing in her eyes

bonded by kiss

in eternities grasp

camels and polaroids

cigarettes an abbreviation

to thoughts darkening,

a twist of  cyanide,

crushed camel packet dropped

too many smoked

mouth stale not as nature intended,

parked up

windows hazed slightly,

those words he had written down

being spoke to no one,

he could not bring himself to knock

and apologize,

over thinking a problem

made it only worse,

could they make up

or would leaving six years be easier,

he wished to be painting that

green wall again,

had she seen his car

panic a dense butterfly fluttered,

one glance a mans shape

at the downstairs window,

sudden confirmation

jerked ignition started and left

he had photographs

L’Etolle de Mer (1928 ) Man Ray

CH537

Photograph by Chris Lawrence

her bow knew the sea,

foam beckoned on harbor wall 

sea curls stretched to horizon,

yet land restrained

docked for repair,

a boatsman’s pleasure

scraping hull

refreshing blue

his toughened hands

worked and manipulated,

she responded by gaining dignity,

freedom of wave

that sensation of roll awaits,

a new season of trawling

and lobster pots 

and her yearning ends

Red Spark Passing

Pyre by Karen Lawrence

sordid burden torture

nails drawn blood off the page,

bitter cupped sun drawn on blinds,

silver and grey,

once sounded young as lean grass,

murmurs of broom over grave,

bleak gnat lands delicate,

without my wreath

i burn thorny pain,

of stacked timbers into pyre

vagabond read calmly,

as i am lain upon,

no rain on rapid flames

eventually be an ashen haze

lingering over muddy flowers,

my salt drawn away,

evaporated to a sky that has

an altered embrace,

smiles bare rock tooth gape

awaiting on the side once thought of,

my heart caught in a chest cleft

never righted my ways,

now melted i without grace

had departed

no one would remember the old times

only the flames

that gave to the night nothingness

Flame by Karen Lawrence

 

Extract of Me

i have long fingers

yet cannot gouge my eyes

remove them from my face

place them blinking on sticks,

to see myself,

would i seem more different than by reflection

could i gaze past that aura of mine,

with crooked nose and empty sockets,

eyebrows that move often with emotion,

cheeks still broad enough with flesh

to make a face round,

hair never fashioned in any style,

attraction is a composite

would i say i was handsome or defined,

i had drunk from the social nectar

but did not conform to tradition,

i would not be photogenic

or adorn glossy magazines,

lips that kiss and hold the most warmth,

are the best feature,

once cracked and pale with cigarettes and ale

now are more fulfilled,

age has grey iodized me

salt tainted beard and hair,

my face would not be Che on t-shirts,

yet i am loved by one

her opinion will be different,

her eyes another perspective,

as she holds my face and kisses

i know something must be right,

not adonis  in any way,

frame too large for that,

my flesh more distorted than a Bacon nude,

i have found a home in myself

that was difficult to find,

but do not expect too many images of me

as i wish to stay away