the drawling master

This Tumblr page is here to share my doodling ponderings as they continue to clutter my life.
Unless otherwise stated, all photographs and drawings are my own: please do not pinch them!

Malmsmead Hill

It was sultry, and the moss beneath my feet
Felt like it was choking.
Across the valley, penned under an airless sun,
The marshes slugged their green and gold as evening fell.

I walked unwitting into a cloud of flies:
Cloaked me in velvet, thick, black, terrible,
Soft winged, heavy, fizzing the still sky,
Still dumb and blunt.

They breathed as one black lung
(me in the middle breathless)
Swooned and surged on rank bracken -
Their sweet moonshine - steeped nine months
Between the rocks

And the dank moss beneath my feet.

=== by me ===

PARIS JANVIER

in with the new.

When the Old Year met with the New, he was soaked to the bone with rain. He had smoke in his hair from the fireworks and his eyes stung with all the glitter. The night - all the dance and the drink - had been heavy on him and his throat was dry. Someone had persuaded him to change into his pyjamas.

The New Year took one look at the Old one and smiled a sharp smile, all regular and breath-freshened. He was wet too, but his suit was patent plastic and he’d taken a comb to his hair and made it look intentional: more slick, less ratty. His eyes had sparklers in them, shooting out shine.

The Old Year reached out his hand to greet the New. The New grinned like an old friend and, grabbing the Old in a big bear hug, pumped him firmly on his back with a flat fist.

From out the wide mouth of his collar, the Old Year flew into pieces: he burst wide, far, scattering himself everywhere in a cloud of thousand-coloured ash. His jim-jams rumpled to the floor in a whisper of brushed cotton.

The New Year smoothed himself down, adjusted his collar, and walked on.

On his shoulders, dark and broad in the dawning day, flecks of something not-quite-finished flickered.

White Summer (as I dream of a White Christmas) in Mykonos.

If you don’t know www.helen-glory.com, check them out. This is from Claudia’s tumblr but her blog with her friend Frances is super stylish too.

If you don’t know www.helen-glory.com, check them out. This is from Claudia’s tumblr but her blog with her friend Frances is super stylish too.

(Source: claudiahelen)

Untouched by editing tools: Roscarrock farm in Cornwall, this last Friday. Just past the little building you could see the sea edging its way between the hills.

Untouched by editing tools: Roscarrock farm in Cornwall, this last Friday. Just past the little building you could see the sea edging its way between the hills.

Mexico meets London: a supper of chilli con carne rustled up by my man last night. I felt like I should have had flowers in my hair, like Frieda Kahlo.

Mexico meets London: a supper of chilli con carne rustled up by my man last night. I felt like I should have had flowers in my hair, like Frieda Kahlo.