1–2 minutes
The Sketchbook (Inspired from a conversation with the artist Marc Brown, Southwold June 2024)
Beach huts with perfect gables lift their heads to the cumulus.
Colour of sand sediment, a breath inhaled and exhaled,
black rocks a solid defense. An artist sits and watches
as the sea waves over a swimmer’s brushstrokes in blue deep,
deep blue, picking out pebble differences as a child picks
shells. A writer deliberates words to paint the sounds
and heartbeats; witnesses to lives written and painted
onto these miniature canvases. The sea inhales and exhales
a whisper kiss, delicate as a chorus of seashell prayers.
The setting sun draws up the rising moon
into a sky as wide as a question. I think on this in the wing-backed
comfort of The Crown, the dignified chimes of the grandfather
clock, as musical as a nine-year-old Mozart; teacup
in my hand, mille-feuille on my lips.
S.Abdallah ©
S.Abdallah ©
Update-I sent a copy of my poem to Marc, and a copy is now sitting in his studio! #poetryisart
Bonnie Braw Press 