Category Archives: art

where the gravity’s silent…

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Original pencil, type & ink drawing, available in my Etsy shop: UnderAVintageSky

A flicker, sensed more than seen.

 

No sound, no storm she foretells today.

White night owl, moon-ray above the hedge

Circles, tail chased by the night,

Lofts, dodging the evening,

12885708_1277265058957115_6388395575950480432_o.jpgHangs, catching the scent.

Or is it the scurry of a heart beating fast?

The floating feather of light,

blots out the night.

In this indigo woven blanket of eventide

The weary day feeders hunker down and doze

Above she glides, feathers fanning the air

Above she gazes, eyes examining the ground.

Down!

Down!

Down she dives, an explosion of silence

A flurry of hastily expelled air.

Up!

Up!

Up she leaps, now done with violence

Aloft in the night sky, an absence

A white hole, where the gravity’s silent

White night owl, a light in the darkness.

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hare she leaps…

12768130_1261241263892828_526338452705703039_o.jpgIn the night

In the night we leap, lope and love

In the creaky, misty, care-worn spouse of the day we lay

Lay low and listen, quivering lines

seeking the man’s tread, the whisper of an owl

brock wander, grey shadow sideways bound

there’s a silence hanging heavy, dew not yet formed

rasp of grooming kitten fur, vixen starts and growls

hare she leaps,

hare she stands

hare she listens

In the morn

in the morn we hide, heal and home

In the dewy, promising night’s lovers entrance

we scratch a form and lie and rest.

Brock he sleeps also, vixen she dreams of the open coop

an engine coughs to life and she starts, tasting the oil as it

drifts down the lane to where she coils the legs that spring

hare she wakes

hare she speeds

hare she races

In the spring,

In the spring, we bound, bond and box!

In Eostre’s waking dawn, mother of the harvest

We box, hare she stands, hare he stands

and we box

Until the day she says,

“leveret come to me, come to my form and be

a hare, the spirit of the fields

leveret she comes

leveret she comes

In the night…

For the mothers…

Here are a selection of my hand made Mother’s Day cards available in my Etsy shop

https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/UnderAVintageSky

They cost £3 each including UK postage. Don’t be caught out this year, Mother’s Day is really early- in fact, it’s only a few weeks away, on the 6th of March.

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On a nightingale floor…

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Two people sitting on a nightingale floor.

One is a sinner, the other’s a whore.

Ten candles flicker, flames kissing the wall

Frozen in quiet, dark shadows dancing

one second still and the very next leaping.

in silvered quiet,

tarnished by fear, hate and crescents of wildness .

Polished by black velvet words

Silently spoken

Broken she shudders and judders

retelling the violence

through this, she’s healing

whilst sitting in silence.

Her face tells the story of

years of lost childhood

decades of darkness

splintered nights of full blackouts

where the memory is vanished

furled up in corners

foxed, stained and dog-eared

they shy from the light

the sound of kind voices and

unbidden caring.

Two people sitting on a nightingale floor.

Which one’s the sinner? Which is the whore?

Lines, bruises, tears, scars keeping score.

There a brief sound, the shadows stand silent

Another lonely Londoner, soul torn in quarters

Of moth-eaten cheesecloth, stained by salt tearfall.

Her mouth purses, fights with the silence

It opens, then pauses, lips forming vowels

Her cheeks grimace, forming those valleys

Where rivers run downward,

the spring source her eyelids.

Her shoulders pause, hitch, dip, rise

and then let go.

Is it the floor’s song?

A sigh of intrusion, or a cry from her darkness?

The ghosts, linger and circle and

test, try her patience.

They tease her and taunt her and

deride all her courage.

They hide in the not-light, that space between shadows

The gap between words

The pause before promise

the stop before first step.

She stands, covers mirror,

and kicks out the candles.

And strides out a-singing.

Laughing at shadows.

She’s not what she was, she’s now the lightness of

purpose, sweet self worth and courage.

She faced up the shadows,

And looked in the mirror,

disposed of her future,

the one they did tell her

was all she could hope for.

And laid down her past hurts

with a soft kiss of parting

and a promise to remember

and revisit the painhouse

to retain the power to

tell them to quiet

And let her regain life.

The floor is now silent as she leaves for

whatever may follow…

In addition to writing and thinking and discussing it, I also try to make a modest living creating things.

There are a few different mediums which I work in. Here are a few glass etched images that I have created recently. I work to order and I accept commissions too.

As you can see,  I have included two etchings of people’s loved ones, which were based on photographs which were sent to me. These are ones which I am proud of.

Please contact me here at kieron@underavintagesky.com if you wish to discuss a commission.