I try to read between your alla prima strokes.
The sea, lulled by the land, sings in sapphire
topaz, turquoise, serpentine jade…
The flutter of origami leaves in silver,
the occasional amber; crystal rocks saluting
the open sky in Kandinskian chroma.
The trees, metamorphosed dryads,
summon the fleeting wind, humming
their twilight vespers to the distant water
that has carried light across the horizon.
The sun seems asleep, a smile on his face,
his hair rustled by your brush strokes.
The sky cherishes memories of clouds,
the hills bleed in verdant hues; the lime-
green grass, a mosaic of your thoughts.
As the day begins to withdraw into darkness,
ghost shades of air haunt the canvas, disguised
in pale blue that rustles from here and there.
Only the sanguine sand is adrift, poised
precariously between the mountains and the sea.
A witching hour sweeps your landscape.
Your meditations in fluid colour, outlining
shapes in the water-miscible inlet, a prayer
to gently rising eternity, the absent moon.
Your organic abstract lacquers the moment, blending
it into pictorial space; the vanishing point, unravelling
in lapis blue, unveils an iron age hill fortress,
buried in megaliths, virtually impregnable,
but in druid spell and oil paint. You chronicle
a lost epoch in green chartreuse.
And in an emerald womb, time prepares to sleep
in a dolmen covered by the patina of ritual
and lichen, his dreams sinking into the earth’s core.
Poetry © Usha Kishore
Cronk Sumark (translated from Manx Gaelic as “Primrose Hill” ) is an iron age hill fort on the Isle of Man. It is virtually an impregnable site, on a steep-sided rocky hillock overlooking the island’s northern plain
Poems from On Manannan’s Isle – © Usha Kishore
Painting – © Carola Colley