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Hi mac,
not sure what to say about the painting (my failure, not the picture's) beyond its obvious warmth, but it feels a bit empty ... the poem on the other hand ... equally warm, and worth working on, I think.
S2/L1 - I wonder if there was a more poignant version of this line, some way to make 'honeyed lives' more ironic?
He drives past hives, sees honeyed lives
a winding road, the sun-lit smuggler's coast
past coves where ... ?
S2/L4 - 'climbing high' ? - don't know what that means. This seems the only really weak line in the piece. (to where a castle guards the sky ?)
S3 - minor points, but should the 'girl' be married, and was Lancelot?
Her loving voice is like a dripping tap.
Tip-tap, tap-tip, a dripping tap, he twists
so tight the washer snaps. A break is best,
the sea perhaps, somewhere quiet, a cup of tea.
He drives past hives brim full of honeyed lives,
a winding road along a smugglers' coast
past coves where lovers surf and tickle toes,
his quest to find the castle climbing high.
He waits alone in line behind a girl
who's dressed in summer frock and sunny smile,
and when the waves start whisp'ring Guinevere,
he laughs, he's no Sir Lancelot
Regards, Not
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Mac's Watercolour Attempts January
Thanks David. An old published poem, which I just posted for fun with the pic and hadn't thought of revising. Perhaps it does need a new starting point and direction. Not sure I can write like that anymore, but I'll have a ponder. Hope all is well with you.
best
mac
best
mac