brook_of_hope (brook_of_hope) wrote,

year 2 sem 1 week 5

Art and literature go hand in hand as they paint a tapestry of images through our lives. 

To remember……….. words create images and images create words.

I like nothing more to leave the world of timetables and commitments and enter into the world that has no end of possibilities available to the individual. 


Art galleries allow us to enter into different perceptions of the world. Allowing the viewer for a moment to walk though history and be part of the scene.  Michael used the term to see with fresh eyes…. I think this is so important as the everyday issues are like weeds that need to be constantly pruned away so the beauty that surrounds us can be seen and appreciated (not always easy as deadlines must be met). 


At the moment it is pre dawn and the peace and tranquillity of the night is slowly giving way to the pressures of the day.  A bus just went past and I can hear the rising sound of traffic on the motorway as people are preparing to face another day.  Ignoring these sounds…. I can hear the sounds of birds chattering and the soft light caressing the trees.  The changing hues of grey to pink and blue clouds has my heart yearning for the sound of waves to crash away the commitments that are crowding in on every side.

Getting back to literature and art….

The frosty fingers of Time

The sky is blue

The morning light

Stretches and embraces the day

As the flowers entice the bees

the season changes

bringing thoughts of family

and a simpler time

meals shared and yarns spun.


The frosty fingers of time

wrap around the present

and long to turn the page.


But wait

The sound of a baby’s cry

was that yesterday

when I held you

and brushed away the tears

now you brush away

the tears and hold a young heart

tenderly in your arms.


The frosty fingers of time

wrap around the present

and long to turn the page.


And yet

the tears and pain

are like  spun gold

breaching the gap

of past and present

bring joy of the new

to this old heart

allowing this heart

to fly

once again.


The frosty fingers of time

wrap around the present

and long to turn the page.









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