Cat Poetry

A Mother’s Sin.
 

They say she was of the upper class
A real lady of breeding, serene beauty.
This didn’t stop her though
from living life on the wild side.

 
The wrong side of the tracks
held for her an exciting attraction.
She enjoyed the thrill of the chase,
and the male gender to please.

 
Slipping out un-noticed,
while the household slept.
Happily playing the field to the fullest.
She paid the price for her sins.

 
Pregnancy wasn’t kind to her;
She gave in to a multiple birth.
One such son with mixed breeding.
My kitten is only part, Burmese.
TeAnne © 13 Sept. 1999


ACCIDENTAL PACKING
Packed up the dishes and the pots
Packed up the sheets and the socks
Packed up the cutlery of knives, forks and spoons
Packed up the glassware, dresses and shoes
Packed up the blankets with naphthalene flakes
Packed up the albums, records' CD’s' and tapes
Packed up the computer, video and TV
Packed up things belonging to you and to me
Packed up the towels and all the bathroom things
Packed up the jewellery of broaches, pins and rings
Packed up all of the scattered mats
Packed up in a box, oops, I packed my cat!
Poor Sammy.

TeAnne © Dec.26th. 1998

ANIMAL LOVE!

When I get home, you’re always there
and venture from me, you never dare.
You miss me, when I’m away
and by my side, You’re contented to lay.

In each’s company, we’re happy to bask
cos this love, I know, will always last.
You’re personality has mountains of charm
I promise you protection, keep you from harm.

Your body, soft as satin to my hand
It’s just too bad, you’re not a man!
and in return for all of this ?
You purr for me, in contented bliss.

TeAnne © Sept 30.1998

Catwalk (or slip n slide)

House inspection tomorrow, to see if I am keeping it clean. Need to have all spic 'n' span not a speck of dust to be seen. Just washed the wooden floors The cats are in their feral mode. Slipping and sliding. Paw prints everywhere, in my abode. Insky wobbles his bum his plan is to attack… As 'vinni-van' slides by He looks like a 'Flat Cat'. Trying to get a foothold Insky's back legs give way Head first into the fridge. Ah, it's me cats at play. Jumping to cupboard cause  'vinni-van' hates wet paws Inskys' pawing the water. Then shaking them on the floors. TeAnne © June 7. 2000 DEVIL'S CAT Sammy the cat, is furry lazy and white He sleeps all day, dreaming of mice A mouse to terrorize, then eat His tempting tasty treat of meat. Smooging up the side of my face And on my clothes, a furry white trace.Purring in and out of tune I think he's trying  to croon. Leg rubs, throughout the day, his exercise to keep him fit, Don't know why, hands and feet, he likes to lick. Attacking, the big defenceless dog, keeps him amused Clawed and bitten, again my shoes. He likes his kisses nose to nose Astray from home, he never goes When its time for him to play He kicks up his heels and digs in the clay. My garden suffers, as dirt scatters and flies When black as night are his eyes. I think its all put on, just an act Possessed by the devil, my poor cat. TeAnne © 20/12/93 Heads or Tails They say to me that cats are killers tormenting their prey till death. I say, 'The cat is no more brutal than a man wielding a gun or knife'. For the cat, it is a natural born instinct, His lifesaver. What is mans excuse? TeAnne June 10. 2000 I'm not Tom anymore Mum I've never climbed a tree Mum I've never ate a mouse I have, chased a dust bunny When you don't clean the house. I am a good kitty Mum I don't kill the birds You don't let me out I've a box for me turds. I love to wreck your house Mum I love the meat you feed I don't like what the vet did I have no nuts to breed. I'm not a Tom anymore Mum They took me stench away But I love to cuddle up to you Blessed, I'm not a 'stray' © TeAnne June 10. 2000 SAMMY’S REVENGE Oh my mistress, my mistress where have you gone You have left me once again, alone! I can’t lay here getting fat I’ll just reek havoc and scatter her mats Chase my toys what else my ploy Boredom in this house with my fake white mouse she bought it for me Oh, golly gosh, golly gee Scratch my fleas in her bed ha ha ha,  never let it be said  Cats are silly Cheshire grin   see who wins Oh no! Here she comes! So, it’s the shopping I see she’s done and she bought me food ! Oh my mistress, my mistress I will purr for you. TeAnne © Jan 13. 1998 Awarded Jan.27.1998 Thank you to the Cat Page People!    Thank you Charles

TO MY BEST FRIENDI found the lump last night
and heard today, that it is
Cancer. They said you are not
long for this world, my little
friend. Cancer flowing through
your little body has spread from
your severed ear.
They told me to take you home
and let you live your days with
love. Living out your life in
familiar surrounds will make
your time pass a little easier.
But not for me.
To my little best friend, I will
show you all the love I can
till God says you have to go......
Dear Sammy, save a spot for me.

TeAnne © Nov. 4. 1998

TRIBUTE TO SAMMY 1993-1999

CANCER HAS ITS WAY A killer is loose! And, It’s not easy to take away your life. This decision is left to me. Who am I to decide that it’s time, for you to die? Just a needle, they say And your life is over, without pain. But I am a selfish person I want to keep you with me, always. Then too, would I be showing you love by watching and letting you suffer? It hurts to see your food intake, decline. This cancer has finally gotten a hold of you It wears you down each day. And there is only one thing left to do. But there is still alertness in your eyes When you see me come your way. You gaze at me, almost begging for relief Then in an instant, they’re asking me something else. I love you so much Sammy. My little furry friend. Oh God, Why do you place this burden on us? TeAnne © Feb.8.1999 I PLAYED GOD! How could I do this to you On the day, of Feb 9. 1999 This question will always surface, Was this, the last life of your nine? I did not want to play God With the death of your life. I sensed you knew this time, was near Before we took that fateful drive. You did not make a sound As the needle found its mark In a matter of a heartbeat Your life was over, in the past. Please don’t hate me Sammy I told them…Take your life! You sleep now forever at my door, and greet me, before I go inside.  ~*~ I will love and miss you always Sammy and be assured,  you have a piece of my heart buried with you. ~*~  ~*~ R.I.P Baby Catz ~*~ TeAnne © Feb 9. 1999  IN MY HEART A PERFECT PICTURE I loved your silky fur And your licks upon my skin I needed your purring tunes Like breathing out, breathing in. On my lap I miss your kneading paws Where you’d make a bed of me Your place on my bed is empty now Where once you curled my knee. In my heart is your picture It’s tattooed in perfection Not another will take your place To gain this same affection. You have taken all my love with you And I so proudly let you take it Because you left all of yours for me In the chair, where you and I would sit. TeAnne © Feb 9. 1999

YOUR EYES FOLLOW In your picture, hanging there. It’s in your eyes! They follow. It’s in your stare! I wish it where saying thank you. Your picture, just above me. You’ll eternally watch. Your picture, it looks back Hauntingly hypnotic Your picture, as if accusing. Your agony is over. Yet I’m feeling your stare, right through me, I imagine it asking why I did this to you. TeAnne © Feb 12.1999

---

  KITTY KISSES FOR GOD My heart is overflowing Some with love Some with guilt I read somewhere That you are not in that grave It is only your shell That you are the wind The rain The moon The stars But I know you are in heaven Lending your kitty kisses to God While you wait for me. TeAnne © Feb 12.1999

---

YESTERDAYS TREASURE     

S.
    is for Satin you were to my touch
A.
    is for Affection, we shared so much
M.
    is for Me, you loved, unconditionally
M.
    is for Mum, I was yours, temporarily
Y.
    is for Yesterdays…… treasured memories.

    TeAnne © Feb 13.1999

YOU (R.I.P vinni-van) 

You passed on the 3rd September , twenty ten
You were only eleven years young
Yet in cat years you were a year older than me.
You were a soft shiny silver tabby
Yet you had some sandy colours and white.
Your eyes were the biggest I had ever seen in a cat and
Yes, you knew how to use them on me.
You loved me, I know because
You spent all of your time on my knee or beside me.

You worked your charm on your human dad and
You liked to steal his chair when he left it.
You knew he wasn't a cat lover but demanded his attention
You succeeded, You stole his heart too.
Your favourite game was peek-a-boo with me
You made my jaws ache from laughing when you cheated.
You gave me much joy and companionship vinni
You are going to be truly missed my precious little friend
Your final task now is to play, purr and snuggle God and wait for me.

In loving memory of 'vinni-van'. © TeAnne Pantony

Posted 6th September 2010 by TeAnne

AUSTRALIAN FLAVOUR POETRY

‘AESTHETIC AUSTRALIA’

Gimme ‘Ghost Gums’ by a river of dreams
Gimme shining sun on this land supreme
Gimme this land, earth of red ochre and gold so pure
the minerals a plenty and gemstones bore.

Gimme clean rivers and skies blue clear
A cod fish from the river ‘Murray’ abundant in by-gone years
Gimme the brilliant stars against the southern sky night
and aurora australis - bright.

Gimme the life and let me dwell

in my land Australia I love so well.

TeAnne © 7 April. 1998

AUSTRALIA 
Cities of beauty, land of plenty, dance in memories,
the Nullarbor come with me as I journey beyond....... 

Once, I crossed your barrenness and grand red land 
the wide open spaces here in my heart, 
my mind and in my friends faces.
And ‘Ayres Rock’ standing proud and strong
with the distant howls of a dingo’s song.

Away from you, on alien soils, discontentment grew.
Would I ever see you again, 
tread your surfaces or swim your seas?
Alas, three months of differences similar,
but unfamiliar to me, I know where I belong, 
Australia! The land of my home.

TeAnne © Dec 26. 1997



A Drive In God’s Own Country 



Pristine beaches, spanning dimensions 
contours velvety, sun upon sands. 
Flat top mountains meet contrasting heavens, 
native trees, oceans blue. Beyond, tillaged 
valleys concaving in seas of winter green, 
turning ochres interlude, mid-spring-times hues. 
A painters ‘en plein-air’ dream, inspire golds, 
grain greens, unclouded reds, amidst 
windmills gyrating, readying 
unique summer’s breeze ballads. 
While grazing sheep, bullock, alongside horse 
blend adjoining centuries history. 
Primitive Hamlets dotting distant horizons, 
aside natures, modern day abstract. 
Grain  fields covered gleaned cylindered hay, 
texturing thin layered paddocks, now lush barren. 
Swollen rivers along with time, have snacked upon 
accompanying stone fences. Former convicts create. 
Leaning trees, driven westerly winds brazenly blown. 
Outlying silver topped roofs of homesteads, 
glimmer in customary suns scorching glow. 
Long distance travel, over God’s own land.


“AKA...A Drive In God’s Own Country” 
(Poem Devoid of .The, there, and, is, are, they, them, we, I, you, me, her, him, it, that, those.)


TeAnne © Nov.1. 1998 





AS CLEAR AS BLACK AND WHITE


Thinking back 
nearly thirty years 
She was a bigot 
dead now I suppose


Vacuum behind 
that dresser 
change that 
bed linen! 
(un-slept in)


African males 
(about ten in all) 
Occupied rooms 
for two minutes


Clean that toilet 
Scrub that shower 
(the recesses un- used)


she must have 
told them to leave!


Oh how naive I was 
with my eighteen year old 
housemaid knees


Saw a gun at the 
Mansfield 
now torn down


Manhattan building 
and San Francisco 
in our Sydney streets 
with flowers and LSD


When Vietnam 
was hot and 
American men on R&R 
where the flavour 
Go Go Whisky nights


Never touched 
the drugs. but 
The yanks and 
the whisky 
You betcha.


Damn nasty housekeeper 
all as clear now 
as black and white.


TeAnne © May 5. 1999





FIRST DAY 







Concrete expansion


Building myriad


Dauntingly vast


Human abundance


Clammy gathering


Claustrophobic.





Disciplined regulations


Chauvinist dialog


Fascist dictum


Registration numeral


Acquaintances new


All for creativity!





TeAnne © Feb 15. 1999 






IT’S JUST HEARSAY!

Way back, 'fore I was born, Walgett, 
a thriving town, with over 20 pubs they tell. 
Is hard to believe, no tell tale signs. It's 
Just hearsay, I say!


‘Twas a gold rush era they tell 
that caused many a men to wander 
for fortune to make and at cards to squander. 
For all I know! It's 
Just hearsay, I say!


Now, the town is worse than dead 
A visit here I tell, Forget it Fred. 
Looking for history? T'aint archived. It's 
Just hearsay, I say!


But the bushy with belly pressed to the bar, 
bearded and bald and long in the tooth, 
he may remember and think it truth. 
Too many a beer and boiling sun, do tell 
He thinks I lie when I say. It's 
Just hearsay, I say!


TeAnne Oct 2. 1998 





# 1 
This poem is an ABC style, minus : The, there, and, is, are, they, them, we, I you, me, her, him, 
it, that, those. 
Midwest Western Australian Landscape.


A kaleidoscope of colours, enriching 
Beaches of perfect white sand. 
City devoid of poisons pollute. 
Dandelion yellowed pastures 
Envelope tired, leaning aged 
Fences, touched by Father Time. 
Green tree tops rustle on an 
Horizons distance, generously where 
Iron rusted metals, gone long by 
Jut from paddocks ne’er more tilled. 
Kangaroos gather under *gum trees 
Leaping, jumping, like child at play. 
Mountain ranges, flat topped only by 
Natures sculpturing hands. 
Orange flowered bushes complement 
Purple *Patterson’s Curse carpet uncontrolled. 
Quarries dug by man for mineral sands 
Regional resources, also crayfish, galore, 
Survival. Exports to places like Russia 
Tokyo, China, USA, just a few. 
Unusual gifts of wealth polished, 
Varying gemstones removed from 
Western Australia’s beauty, not even a 
Xylophone players music could portray. 
Yesteryears history, ghosted by 
Zoning laws of technology, not necessarily better.


* Patterson’s Curse ( Salvation Jane, a noxious weed to Live stock, introduced  from  England) 
* Gum Trees ( Eucalyptus tree)


TeAnne © Nov.2.1998 





PARSLEY BETWEEN MY TEETH


  
 





Across from the 'Ecucina street Café'  
sits the Travel and Foreign Exchange  
with Stamp and Model Cars and the  
City International Duty Free close by  
Stands a Holiday Inn elite and erect. Standing beside parked motor cycles  
a man on a mobile phone talks endlessly  
Then I notice passers-by with mobiles   
on their hips, in hands and up to moving lips.  
Hearing American accents and I think for an instant  
I am over 'there' again. But it's okay, I'm here  
with parsley between my teeth.

The trans central 'Cat' sleeks on by  
with Japanese scrawling on it's side  
Hustle and bustle of a lunch hour city   
Not all notice me. Though some do  
as I sit here writing with parsley specks  
between my teeth.

A glass carrying truck with two men  
parked across from me stare, behind  
dark glasses and I imagine they can see  
this damn parsley between my teeth.

A wheel chair inhabitant patiently waits  
by the curb for…. what? I don't know.  
!!…   
She got into a taxi.  
Another passed me; he was pushed right on by.  
Me afraid to smile with this parsley  
between my teeth. 

Stray pigeons scavenge for single morsels dropped  
by eaters at this street side Café, where I'm at.  
I'm picking the parsley from between my teeth  
and it just won't budge.  
Pick, poke, and drag.  
No use, so I light another cigarette  
and contemplate this mundane human race.  
 

 © April 23 1999 By TeAnne






QUESTION TIME






                     


YOU KNOW THE FAULT IS NOT CAUSED BY US 
                     SO WHY NOW, ALL THE FUSS? 
                     WHY MAKE MARBO SUCH AN ENORMOUS DEAL? 
                     IT WAS OUR ANCESTORS, THE LAND DID STEAL.




                     WANT TO TELL ME WHAT WENT WRONG? 
                     WE’RE LOOSING OUR COUNTRY 
                      IT’S THE SAME OLD SONG. 
                      THERE ARE THE NATIVES, SCREAMING FOR EQUAL RIGHTS 
                      HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN ABOUT ME, BECAUSE I’M WHITE?




                     AND TOO MANY ASIANS TAKING OUR JOBS 
                     NOT ALL AUSSIES ARE LAZY, LAYABOUT SLOBS. 
                     I HAVE DREAMS FOR MY FAMILY TOO 
                     IT’S MADE HARD FOR ME TO PURSUE 
                     ALWAYS A DOOR CLOSED IN MY FACE 
                     THE GOVERNMENT WON’T HELP 
                     I’M CAUCASIAN, 
                     IT’S A DISGRACE.




                     AN OVER INDULGENCE OF USELESS IMPORTS 
                     WHAT'S HAPPENING, 
                      I WANT TO KNOW, TO OUR EXPORTS?




                      WHAT AUSTRALIA HAS IN ABUNDANCE 
                      IS LEFT TO RUIN AND ROT. 
                      A PIECE OF LAND FOR ME? 
                      THEY WILL NOT ALLOT. 
  
                       THE LUCKY COUNTRY? 
                       WELL I’LL BE DAMNED. 
                       YOU SURE FOOLED ME 
                        MR. BUREAUCRAT MAN.



TEANNE.......22/12/93©




* WINNER * OF THE 2nd CUP CAFE Jan 1998 Poetry Contest

In this poem, my intention is not to offend Australian or American Vets

but to make the world aware that you all still exist. My views of how it was may not be correct but they do come from my heart. Terri A Hateley AKA TeAnne.©



 



Salute to Vietnam Vets



 



Australians, Americans, All creeds, All colours

Men, at nineteen, boys with brave hearts

of a life not yet lived

Side by side from different shores

blood, sweat and feelings shared

Came together to fight for freedom

in an unforgiving, God forsaken war.






While at home,

ungrateful bystanders jeered.

Soldiers who witnessed,

 death, destruction, defeat

the suffering of an innocent child,

 an ally or mate

the defoliation of a field, or jungle,

 in the blink of an eye.






Returning as men with nightmares for memories

forever indelible

Older in mind, ruined in body

scarred beyond their years with untold horrors

and

Agent Orange devouring  their Daughters and Sons

 Still the innocent suffer.



Men who died, remembered only as a number

or by family.




Not by you, not by me

To give to these men, the time has come,

 the love and respect they earned

 as due compensation.






Not in parades nor celebration

but from your hearts and actions

They could be your sons,

fathers, husbands or lover

for them, the sentence is not over

HUG -A- VET

and your unawareness, a retraction.



TeAnne © Jan 6.1998





STARK DARKNESS! (Mirrabooka Mall)

From sunlight to eerie! 

Shops closed, though some 

were trading…In candle light. 

Ambling through corridor like 

tunnels of an innerscape Mall maze 

Clutching handbag to body!



People wary to and fro! 

Daylight stealing peeks inside, 

while would be shoppers 

dined on tepid food, under 

dome shaped skylight in 

the eatery. And waited.



Torch light flashings in 

darkness behind transparent 

steel roller shutters blocking 

thieves. Candles burn in 

hands of proprietors mingling 

speaks of blackout hour.



Securities strolling with pupil dilate. 

Eyes scanning. Hands on holsters. 

The Post Office selling only stamps 

Told me, “One hour on, one hour off.” 

Poof… 

I imagined the end of the earth!



TeAnne © 23 July.1999





The Beach





I live in the city of Perth now 
a few kilometres from the beach. 
A scene that’s over crowded, in 
the summer seasons heat.

I miss the town where I lived 
the white dunes of sand, like 
snow, jutting against the sky, 
where I lived in Geraldton.

I miss the pristine view, though 
there were no trees for shade. 
Alas, to walk along the shore, 
or sit and create an imitate.

I miss the walks at sunrise 
And the shells for my collection. 
The tide ebbing from my feet 
My thoughts are recollection.



TeAnne © July 14. 1999











THE INTERVIEW


  
  
 


I had met her before 
But this was different 
This was an interview 
This was professionalism 
Preparations of questions 
And butterfly tickles.


She was held in high regard 
The art worlds queen and 
Me a mere student 
My importance to appear 
Not too naive 
Younger than I, her 
Experience vast beyond 
My year’s, knowledge wise.


My admiration of her and her work 
Was beyond number one fan. 
Star struck extremes 
Meeting her again was 
Life’s magic dream


The interview would have went well 
If only she had bothered to show.


An omen, I’m travelling the wrong road.


TeAnne © 22 March 1999 







CULTURE SHOCK


  
  
 


In Perth’s 'Culture Centre Art Gallery' coffee shop, 
The pulse of an artist’s city. 
Just watching them all walk by 
All nationalities 
All different lives 
Rushing 
Strolling 
Food in mouths or hands 
Disabled bodies, or minds 
Purple haired or green or red 
All seeking ‘that special something’ 
That could change their lives 
Coming and going, 
Backpacks, school books 
Visual dairies 
Brief – cases, nine to five 
Or just sitting at this coffee shop 
Chatting about life’s great explores 
While ‘blues’ music pipes from speakers


Later in a food hall Caucasian male using chopsticks While the Asian wife used fork and spoon While I watch, eating Continental roll with Italian cappuccino.


TeAnne © 22 March 1999 














WALGETT. 
(My Home Town) 





 


Then in Walgett town it’s where the 
‘Barwon’ and the ‘Namoi’ rivers meet- 
It’s brown and dead in the outback with carcass spoil. 
Flood then drought and hot north gale.






The windows all barred now and trite are the streets. 
But the beer flows  amber and 
the shearers, clip fleece - their backs well bent.






Roly-poly salt bush on the sunsets plains, 
and drovers’ camp under the stars praying for rain. 
while the billy boils.






Where mad blue dogs’ sun bake in fifty degree heat 
with cancerous nose and ears, No one left who cares. 
TeAnne © Apr 26. 1998 

Art Poetry

 BARAKA

                              (Revisited)

(This poem is taken from a documentary film (of the same name) 

I watched at University and was required to paint my  feelings:)

                   Technology wrestling tradition in lands, time omits
                   Chantings, blanket thinning forests
                   And lingering rhythm of decayed cities
                   Togetherness, like night and day with
                   Powered wings slashing tranquillity
                   And cruelty shadowed by a Panpipe of haunting melodies
                   Eclipse of life, death harmonized like volcanic ashes
                   in a funeral pyre .                  
                   Riches and beauty sought with greed
                   clouded  judgments with insanity
                   Beat the drums of thunder
                   Echoing, the trees give heed
                   Pagan idols of gold laden while children hunger
                   Truth belated All consumed energy
                   As toothless be-hatted men watch apathetically
                   the dawns of doom reaching
                   with invisible taloned fingers across the vast forgotten lands
                   The future Behold. 
TeAnne.......June 3 . 1997.

THE 9 x 5 inch ART HISTORY




The Heidelberg School, in Melbourne Victoria

Was the artist’s school, in South-eastern Australia

In eighteen eighty nine, a hundred years ago

began our famous nine by fives picture show

No!....... Not of the moving kind

Ones that hang and last with time.


Artists’ like Condor, Roberts, 

McCubbin and Streeton 

These boys knew their stuff, 

and were not to be beaten 

Brandishing their brushes and easels in awe 

Painting and dabbing, all of what they saw 

Working, nine by five inch on cigar box lids

 Land and seascapes, 

wasn't all that they did



Their Pallets, they blended with localised colour  
They're styles they developed, like not any other 


‘Australian Impressionists’ branded by critics  

they shocked the likes of painting traditionalists.  

They were the innovators of their time  

With 9 X 5 Exhibition, August 17.1889.



Over 200 paintings were in this show

Though the critics jeered and crowed

Paintings at 3 pounds 3 shillings and 3 pence

And four thousand people were in attendance

Yes, the critics they laughed and scoffed

Not knowing that they would sell the lot


So once a year we keep this tradition

In hopes to gain the same recognition.

The Masters have given us all so much

We assemble our paintings, and artistry stuff

The changes taken place in a hundred years

Still have not deterred,  the art critics leers.


TeAnne © Oct. 12. 1998






I PAINTED HIM


He had never had a wife, 
nor even a lady friend.

None, that I can recall! 
He kept his secrets within.


His mother was a streetwalker 
She lived just up the road.

Our attractions were acute 
I opened my heart, I let him in.


He had no formal education 
only the things I could teach

He wasn't overly streetwise 
he was young when we met.


It was hard for him to socialize 
with my kind of folks.

He'd rather laze in an easy chair 
or curl up and watch a TV show.


He wasn't a food connoisseur 
nor a drinker of fine wine

But to know him was euphoric 
he was comfort to have around.


I tried to bring him life 
on this canvas of utter white.

For pure was his colour 
It was hard to capture light.


I painted a beautiful boy today 
but not in the human sense.

But of soft white fur and 
eyes of great discernment.


TeAnne. May 16. 1999














IMAGE ENLIGHTENMENT





Colours in thought 
reflections in my chest

transpired images 
 

us 
on the screen of life

 
abundant desires

worked in camouflage

 
rainbows for all to see.


TeAnne. Feb. 28.1998 
BACK 
All rights reserved. TeAnne 
 1993 ©






THEORY


How do I work thru' this


the theory oh so very dull


I’d rather paint a scenic view


then live in this lull.


*****


A poet with writers block is bad enough


and painting pushed aside


for this rotten old essay


my lecturer is insisting that I write.


***** 
To pass this module


and professional artist become


I find this theory


will only make me dull to some.


*****


I want to paint my pictures


with brush strokes not a pen


I don't wanna be a theorist


and from my colours be apart


Only need my brush


to live and love my art.......... 
 


TeAnne © Mar 17. 1998














Actual size. 6ft X 6ft Acrylic on Board.


THE ICON!


  
  
 


T hinking of you as this Picasso apes

I ncantations radio waves

T unes of yesterdays delights

L ove songs lingered

E volving metaphysical

D elineate 
"

R eds whites and blues

U mbers yellows and orange

N egative shapes, shadows

N estling in tonal dimensions

I cons delegate space

N atures hues

G rounds for dreams

" 
TeAnne © March 27. 1998














" VINCENT "


 

Oh poor Vincent

how you suffered

your life so spent

Scorned

Your work in mines

and above

but all you had in your heart

was love

As if you were no other

given the name of your brother

he

before you

dead one year

With mingled emotions

you severed your ear

Your awareness of brush

well honed

Sunflowers

yellow

adorning walls in gallery's

and homes

Lavishly stroked portraits

you painted

So young your death

T'was fated

A starving artist

and madman they said

But look who is a rich man

dead.

TeAnne © Jan 29.1998









Writing Arts Sanity





I don't think
I am quite as serious
about my writing
As I am about my art.
Though writing will express
What my brushes cannot.

I can adopt a Pollock
or a Kandinsky attitude.
Hurl myself against a canvas
and call it Expressions, I and 2 .

By writing/painting what I feel
I can create a little rigid box
plant myself within the boundaries
and call myself accomplished.

Sometimes I am peculiar
I shouldn't be on display.
But then, all my friends
Are weird. This sets us
Apart from the 'norm'
Who declare they are sane.

TeAnne © June 12. 2000



In Need of a Literary Genie.



Basking in a Van Gogh landscape,
I am one of Shakespeare's players
in his world playhouse with a
Beethoven symphony booming.

'Roll over' the Beatles sang his praise.
Don paid homage to Vincent while
some try to emulate William.
It's like rubbing shoulders
with the departed, who really have not.

Hero worship because
I feel inadequate amid this
society of dead poets, painters,
writers and musicians who made it.
Happen.

TeAnne June 7. 2000