Favoured Words

I am left with the remnants

Of James Turrel’s Lightscape exhibition

But fortunately I am led

To a Youtube conversation

Between the lucid artist

And his enquiring patron for the season

They talk of going inside self

With your meditation

(Right up my street)

Light is not formed

Like clay, or wax

Nor sculpted like wood or stone

(Did I tell you I was an Electrical Engineer

Who specialised in lighting)

The rules are different

Paint and light

Do not merge in the same ways

Their resulting colours

Are not in anyway the same

(No, I did not know that)

Using light to create spaces

100 sky spaces are created

Across all the continents

We are made for twilight

Not the bright light of midday

(Really)

Just as in the way that Rothko

Has colour coming out of darkness

Twilight arrives before sunrise

Twilight arrives after sunset

(I always liked Rothko)

The love of how change happens

You, on your island

Have a maritime sky

The softness of which

Is truly beautiful

(I so so agree with his every word)

 

Believe It Or Not

I am more at home

With Richard Long’s

White Deer Circle

Which fronts an expanse

Of grass, bordered by oaks

Of many years standing

This is an emblem

Of one man’s idea

Fashioned against

Another man’s idea

Several generations apart

Or so one is led to believe

On first impressions

The huge, upturned

Rooted tree stumps

Are placed, more or less

Where the village of Houghton

Once stood, that is until

Sir Robert Walpole

Had it moved a little further away

From his imposing Palladian mansion

Apparently

Or so others say

It is an uncanny echo

Of Seahenge, discovered

On a nearby beach in 1998

However, today’s artist

Professes to have no such

Knowledge, so puts it down

To sheer coincidence

Work it Out

I am in a small garden

Looking at Jeppe Hein’s

Waterflame

It is surreal

Almost beyond comprehension

Water and flame at one together

Maybe the artist

Was a chemist, or a physicist

Or a close relation

Of Guy Fawkes

Described elsewhere as:

Opposing elements co-existing

To create a paradoxical

Visual effect in an

Illusion of cooperative relationship

I too was taken

But think that I partially

Understand

The slights of hand

Of both of these magician’s tricks

Just Do It

I have had an idea

For when I return home

I have named it

Wednesday Afternoon Being Creative

It’s a sort of going back

But also a fast forwards

Yes it is to stimulate the creation of poetry

But also, art and photography, etcetera, etcetera

To try to pull together

A few of the creative types

From roundabouts and hereabouts

Who can encourage others to be creative

I don’t expect Anish Kapoor

Or James Turrell or Richard Long

Or any of those other major artists

Whose work can be seen at Houghton Hall

But maybe the local musicians

And poets and painters

And trekkers and photographers

Will come along to tell a tale

We too may think of specific spaces

Where our art may be displayed

Although of course that must wait

Until we are freed from lockdown

 

Name On Name

Today I intend to go

To Houghton Hall

The home of

The Cholmondeley's

Oh how I love that name

But first for breakfast

Bacon, two fried eggs

Toast and beans

Yes, how much better than being

The Fourth Earl of Nidderdale

To be the Buckminster Fuller

Of Cholmondeley

MOD Sculthorpe

And RAF Sculthorpe

Are both nearby

Perhaps once strategic bases

Yes, landing sites

For Sandringham Estate

Or for the first Prime Minister

Of Great Britain

But first for breakfast

Bacon, two fried eggs

Toast and beans

Should be fine

The Cholmondeley’s

Have had a presence

At Houghton Hall

Since the first Marquess

Inherited the place

In the 18th century

I make that to be

Quite a good while ago

Lord Cholmondeley

Was educated at Eton

And studied

At the Sorbonne, lucky lad

But first for breakfast

Bacon, two fried eggs

Toast and beans

Should be fine

Now he is married

To Rose Hanbury

They have two boys

And a daughter named Iris

But first for breakfast

Bacon, two fried eggs

Toast and beans

Should be fine

For a day which

Will mostly be spent

Out of doors

In the Cholmondeley’s garden