As the artist sits down, his easel in place,
He looks out at the world detached from the race,
What he sees we won't know till the final stroke's done,
Though I'm sure his brush dances to the tune of the sun.
Time comes I am sure, when the mood has no glow,
He visits the places that most fear to go,
For the mood when it takes you it must be seen through,
Be it sunshine and laughter or the deep black taboo.
When the trip is over, be it morning or night,
The artist's brush rests, sometimes trembling with fright,
But most days I believe, there's a smile on his face,
For he's looking in at the madness from a safe far away place.
I went to the beach to swim one day,
but found that the sea had gone away,
I sat for a while and thought where it may be,
My wonderful rich, deep blue sea.
Maybe it's taken the fish on a trip,
a quick daily visit to the planet Blip,
May'be the crabs thought the rocks were no fun,
So the sea decided to take them and orbit the sun.
After sitting a while I must have laid down,
For I woke with a shock and a curious frown,
My feet were all wet as the sand gently glistened,
I'd dreamt of my sea and of course she had listened.
This April marks the 20th anniversary of National Poetry Month, which was inaugurated by the Academy of American Poets in 1996. Over the years, National Poetry Month has become the largest literary celebration in the world with schools, publishers, libraries, booksellers, and poets celebrating poetry’s vital place in our culture.
As we mentioned here before, Peter also writes poetry and although he hasn't written for a while there's a whole treasure box full with his gentle and bonkers words, so we thought we would share a few more with you. Enjoy!
Having spent a lot of my childhood in bookshops, auction rooms, markets or moving books around for my parents, the smell and the feel of books became a very special part of me and, as I would later discover, a passion waiting to be unleashed. From all the books I can say that my eyes are always pulled to Fine Bindings. Handling the tactile leather boards with the patina of a fine antique table top, the beautiful gilt decoration or fine tool work that often comes with such bindings sometimes makes it alright to judge a book by its cover. Discovering a leather bound book and opening it to see the name of a binder, shining in gilt letters stamped on to the inner boards or discretely forced in to the corner of a page edge, always gives me a sense of pleasure...