Stillness prevailed. You could hear the sound of bird wing. A Sea Eagle sweeping A Dolphin leaping. Sea – a…
My palette of synthetic pigment. Pure paint. I am going to paint ‘Nature!’ I suffer from absurdities of theory. Empedocles, …
Enchantment and total connectedness made the stones speak.|
My soul and body, my breath,
My relationship with the water gives me knowledge.
Effortless, I conjure up ancient history.
My imagination is rife.
The Nuenone People.
Their spirits give a brooding frisson to my present time.
Sixty thousand year old burnt remains of shells lie in a sandwich of ochre and mud.
The wind had a memory,
It told me of things that had never been said,
Storms of history, ancient runes, broken, dismembered,
Then thrown into my face in spume. ‘Saat.’
The sickle edged moon etched,
Acid formed in the backdrop of my world.
By Michael Morgan I still see the images as though projected on a wall screen or a plasma T.V. set,…
By Michael Morgan Common speech, (if you can call speech common) whatever that may mean, often uses the name…
The food was prepared, the table set. It looked like a subject for a Renoir or Bonnard. Just luscious to look at. Time for a relax, guests due to come at 7 p.m. Divine aromas of luscious food cooking permeated the atmosphere. Bliss!!
The guests arrived on time. The first drink was poured and then we heard the fire siren, and then another. The hills around reverberated with the sound.
Oh no!… I was a member of the voluntary Country Fire Authority.