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Tuesday 10 October 2023

I do believe the artist is on to something

The moving sculpture represents water

The moving water

Asks the water lilies to stand proud

Or is it the occasional sunlight

Through the broken cloud


The breeze lifts

My fine auburn hair

In waves across

My thin framed spectacles


The light lead

Is automatically fed

Into my Rotring

Vorsprung dur technic

Precision writing pencil


I look for words

The draughtsman's kerbs

The straight lines to nowhere

Are long forgotten


Gardeners move hither

Into and out of

The garden centre where they wither

They choose to wilt

In silt that is right out of the sunlight


Anything, or nothing

To avoid the metallic cams and tubular rings

Which at this moment lie still

Defiant under the gaze of the two wishful brothers


The sculpture, now an installation

Springs into life, visually

I do believe that the artist is on to something

But as always

It is the detail which lets him down


The sounds of ill-fitting mechanisations

The grind that grinds you down to ground

The resounding sound

Of ill-fitting mechanisations


The sculpture is now an installation

An installation which goes up and down

But in sympathetic non-symphonic time

The sculpture wears a frown



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