Saturday 9 October 2010

Luxury Travel


“Reading makes immigrants of us all. It takes us away from home, but more importantly, it finds homes for us everywhere.”   ~ Jean Rhys





I love looking up and realizing the hours have passed without my noticing because all the while I've been so deeply immersed in my book. Surely that is transportation of the most definitive kind? The ultimate in travel and exploration? And, best of all, you don’t need luggage.

**Do have a look at the Link Viewer at Illustration Friday for some wonderful art from artists around the globe.  This week's prompt is "Transportation".... so why not give it a go yourselves?  Go on, I dare you! **

Thursday 7 October 2010

The Quangle Wangle's Hat



Today, October 7th is National Poetry Day.  To celebrate we are all supposed to write a poem about home.  Since I haven't had time to pen some prose, I'll just leave it to one of my favourites - the delightfully weird and whacky Edward Lear. 

What I did manage to do a couple of days ago was paint a picture of a hat.  (After all, home is where the hat's at...right?)  Although it is by no means as wonderfully beribboned or jangly and jaunty as Quangle's, it is rather fitting, I feel, for the approach of Autumn.  One must not have a chilly pate.  Not under any circumstances.


facebook.sept 002



The Quangle Wangle's Hat


Edward Lear

On the top of the Crumpetty Tree

The Quangle Wangle sat,

But his face you could not see,

On account of his Beaver Hat.

For his hat was a hundred and two feet wide,

With ribbons and bibbons on every side

And bells, and buttons, and loops, and lace,

So that nobody ever could see the face

Of the Quangle Wangle Quee.

The Quangle Wangle said

To himself on the Crumpetty Tree,--

'Jam; and jelly; and bread;

'Are the best food for me!

'But the longer I live on this Crumpetty Tree

'The plainer that ever it seems to me

'That very few people come this way

'And that life on the whole is far from gay!'

Said the Quangle Wangle Quee.

But there came to the Crumpetty Tree,

Mr. and Mrs. Canary;

And they said, -- 'Did you ever see

'Any spot so charmingly airy?

'May we build a nest on your lovely Hat?

Mr. Quangle Wangle, grant us that!

'O please let us come and build a nest

'Of whatever material suits you best,

'Mr. Quangle Wangle Quee!'

And besides, to the Crumetty Tree

Came the Stork, the Duck, and the Owl;

The Snail, and the Bumble-Bee,

The Frog, and theFimble Fowl;

(The Fimble Fowl, with a Corkscrew leg;)

And all of them said, -- We humbly beg,

'We may build our homes on your lovely Hat,--

'Mr. Quangle Wangle, grant us that!

'Mr. Quangle Wangle Quee!'

And the Golden Grouse came there,

And the Pobble who has no toes,--

And the small Olympian bear,--

And the Dong with a luminous nose.

And the Blue Baboon, who played the flute,--

And the Orient Calf from the Land of Tute,--

And the Attery Squash, and the Bisky Bat,--

All came and built on the lovely Hat

Of the Quangle Wangle Quee.

And the Quangle Wangle said

To himself on the Crumpetty Tree,--

'When all these creatures move

'What a wonderful noise there'll be!'

And at night by the light of the Mulberry moon

They danced to the flute of the Blue Baboon,

On the broad green leaves of the Crumpetty Tree,

And all were as happy as happy could be,

With the Quangle Wangle Quee.


Friday 1 October 2010

Beneath African Skies



turag Niger, West Africa - Tessa 2010



Children of the Sun and the Wind


Mohammed Ebnu

We still live
on the brink of nothingness,
between the north and south of the seasons
We still sleep
on stone pillows,
like our fathers
We still follow the same clouds,
resting in the shadows of thorn trees
We still drink down our tea while swallowing fire
and we walk barefoot not to frighten the silence
And in the distance
at the edge of the mirage
we still watch, every evening
the sun fall into the sea
And the same woman greets us
while she posts lookout for the dusk
in the middle of the map
She greets us, then is lost
in the eyes of a child
smiling from the lap of eternity
And we still wait
for a new dawn
We still wait to begin again