All Subjects Under the Sun: Red Roses

Wednesday, 1 April 2009

Red Roses

Unfortunately, it doesn't register too well. The reds do not come as bright as the real picture and the mauves fail to appear. Never mind, this is my latest flower painting. If the real one was as ugly as the one that appears here, I would start again. The photo is very disappointing.

19 comments:

Robert said...: But they look great. Your flowers always seem so alive. I'm also struck by the sheer variety of colour you get here. This is splendid stuff, in my opinion.; 1 April 2009 at 14:26
Maria said...: Thank you Robert. You always manage to cheer me up. I was feeling really depressed today, thinking that perhaps I did this painting too simple because someone said that my flower paintings were too traditional and I needed to paint them more losely for a modern home so I came up with this.; 1 April 2009 at 14:57
Anonymous said...: Maria, I think it an absolutley stunning picture, 'splendid stuff' as Robert has said. The colours in the photo look great, even if they are not the same as the painting.
Reading back on the last comments from the previous post, yes I agree, and it would be nice to see at least one of Robert's poems ...; 1 April 2009 at 16:06
Maria said...: Victoria, thank you kindly. At least you make me feel that my time painting, is not a complete waste of time.

Yes, Robert by public demand it would be so nice to see these poems, when you get the chance of course, as I know today/tomorrow will be extremely busy for you, so there is no rush. Curiosity has got the better of Victoria and I and we will patiently wait when you can post them. :); 1 April 2009 at 16:38
Robert said...: But Maria and Victoria, I'm not a poet and the only poems I can put my hands on are Jack the Ripper poems - some about Jack, some about the victims, etc.; 2 April 2009 at 07:32
Maria said...: Hi Robert, I was just intrigued by what you said before about you writing a poem that decides it wants to be something else. I wanted to see how that works.

But if that means its going to be something gory and nasty, maybe not !; 2 April 2009 at 15:53
Anonymous said...: Yes Maria and Robert,
I remember Robert saying that too,
I think he may have said other things also .. infering that he wrote a little poetry. I may have to go trawling through the multitude of comments on the whole blog!
And if we take note of what Robert has just said, "... and the only poems 'I CAN PUT MY HANDS ON" ..."
using minimal detective skills here, that implies that there are poems that are other than JTR poems!
I'm sure that anything that you have written would be 'splendid stuff' in our opinion, Robert.; 2 April 2009 at 17:43
Robert said...: Hi Maria and Victoria

Well, there might be poems in my old notebooks but they're probably not any good. As I say, I'm not a poet and I understand little of metre and scansion.

On Jack the Ripper, though, AP and I wrote lots of poems 5 or 6 years ago, and not all of them were gory. AP did some great ones.

Here are six I did. The first three are humorous ones. In the first, based on a well-known song, the spirit of Jack the Ripper converses with a Ripperologist. This Ripperologist is convinced that he/she knows best, and puts Jack right on a few things. The second is how a child might imagine JTR. The third is about the Day of Judgement when, we are told, everyone will be unmasked and all secrets will be revealed. The last three are serious ones.

PUTTING HIM RIGHT

JACK : I was on time.
RIPPEROLOGIST : No, you were late.
JACK : I slaughtered nine.
RIPPEROLOGIST : You slaughtered eight.
JACK : Ah yes, I remember it well.

JACK : I was quite short.
RIPPEROLOGIST : You were quite tall.
JACK : I planned and thought.
RIPPEROLOGIST : You were a fool!
JACK : Ah yes, I remember it well.

JACK : I had a doctor's skill,
I scrawled a note in chalk,
I simply had to kill -
RIPPEROLOGIST : What nonsense you do talk!

JACK : It was so sad,
Such things to do,
I feel so bad -
RIPPEROLOGIST : It wasn't YOU!
JACK : Ah yes....I remember it well.

A CHILD'S EYE VIEW

I don't like Jack the Ripper
He was a naughty man
He walked around in fog all night
And tried to kill my gran

He had a big top hat
He had a Batman cape
And I know who he was
'Cause I've got him on my tape

I don't like Jack the Ripper
He had a nasty knife
He had some horrid habits
And he never had a wife

I think by now he's very old
Or maybe he is dead
His shoes were rubber soled
And he wore them in his bed

I'm glad he's gone away
And won't be coming back
But if he ever does
I hope he gets a smack

JUDGEMENT DAY

Gabriel’s horn! This was no drill.
Earth stopped turning, time stood still.
'Mid excitement unabating,
Ripperologists, still debating
Bade farewell to history,
Dashed off to hear the mystery.
Legions of them buzzed and swarmed,
God leapt clear as His throne was stormed.
Heaven’s halls were filled to the wide,
The angels had to sit outside.

Evans searched for Doctor T
And followed a trail of herbal tea.
Fido called for his Polish Jew :
"Kaminsky! Cohen! Where are you?"
Bob Hinton walked where Hutchinson walked –
The latter complained of being stalked.
AP Wolf cried "’Twould be dandy
If Thomas appeared, with a bottle of brandy." -
Then went round with a tragic face,
For Cornwell had closed the brandy case.
Chris Scott, he was having fun
Searching for Adam in census Year One.
(Someone called Linford, you understand,
Went off to Hell where smoking’s not banned.)
Paradise quaked, as spirits fiery
Burst into labs and tested the Diary.
Paley said "Oh blast! Oh darn it!
What if he doesn’t turn out to be Barnett?"
Dan Farson confessed that he would rue it
If Jacky wasn’t found to be Druitt.
But I mustn’t overdo it.

At last came the moment of everyone’s asking :
Jack the Ripper’s public unmasking.
The victims too, they wanted to know,
And all grabbed a seat in the very first row.
Then silence reigned, and hopes were sunk
When God announced "Jack’s done a bunk."
You could have heard a theory drop,
A book bite the dust, or a suspect go pop.
Then : "Surely with all our brains we can match him.
Hey, everybody, we can still catch him!
He’s only been five minutes gone.
There’s still time, everyone – come on!"
So off they all charged in a shouting pack,
Back on the road in pursuit of Jack.
‘Twas flat eternity’s saving leaven,
And God had given them their Heaven.

WILDERNESS

Now the world is but a husk
And the seed is barren sown
While the dank and settling dusk
Hides a wilderness of stone.

Now the woman cannot please
Though she paint herself for aye
For she sees not as he sees
Through a dark disordered eye.

"Tear it up and start again.
Tear it up, I like you not!
Tear it up and start again."
Doll is hurled from out the cot.

"Tear it up and start again.
How I hate myself for breathing!
Tear it up and start again."
Nether fire and nether teething.

All around the squalid Square
In and out the muffled lanes
Moonbeams dance upon the air
Turn to silver autumn rains.

But the moon-cursed lunatic
Gazes down on cobble stone
Marvels at his magic trick
Notches petrifying bone.

Turns and looks aloft to find
Boon companion of his feeding
Pock-marked glint of blind to blind
Measuring months of women's bleeding.

Hears a step and homeward scrambles
Leaving sad and torn up crone
Moon awaits another shambles
In a wilderness of stone.

HIM AND THEM

Death strolled among them, daily death
They heard his cough and they felt his breath,
Nodded to him as he passed in the street
And saw him pull up the filthy sheet.
They found his face on the pictureless wall
And smelt him woven in pauper's shawl.
He came to them in illness and age,
In idiot chance and murderer's rage -
They saw him so often, they understood
When he had not the time to put on his hood.
They watched their step, but gave cheeky grin
And dared PC Death to run them in.
But in the end
He was no friend -
He was their landlord, and when they were spent
Threw them out for not paying their rent.

Jack knew naught of death - his curse
Was eternal fear of Something Worse.
He was the madman who feared to go mad,
The bad man who killed to stop something bad.
An endless fall, unquenchable tears...
Or just the Bogeyman pulling his ears.

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO...?

Little girl's delighted cries,
Eyes wide open with surprise,
Sees magician pull from hat...
Not a rabbit but a rat.
Sad old drunken whore
Falls to filthy floor.

Little boy can't button shirt,
Fingers tug at mummy's skirt,
Artless fingers that implore...
Fingers wrapped round neck of whore.
Lifts her skirt for celebration
Of magician's transformation.

Bishops' God, maker of all,
Hears each sparrow's feathery fall,
God of mercy, God of love...
Turns his TV on with shove.
Sees the final slash,
Flicks his cigarette ash.; 3 April 2009 at 09:14
Maria said...: These poems are really excellent ! I'm very impressed. I can recognize the tune by Maurice Chavalier from the musical Gigi on the first one. Then the one by the little boy is very witty indeed. They are all different but each one has its own particular charm and so funny too as well as the serious one. You really should be a screen writer for comedy. You have the talent and the wit to do it. I knew it, I have been saying this since you re-wrote the musical of Jesus Christ for the lyrics of the JTR Diary. I congratulate you, this is excellent very enjoyable.; 4 April 2009 at 01:13
Anonymous said...: Robert, they are really good, you have a great talent for writing and they are all quite different.
Maybe you could do a book with them, add a few pictures and maybe some other relevant information on the subject .. but the main focus is the collection of poems .. serious or witty. I'm sure that it would be a hit in the world of ripperologists.
And for the Ripperologists .. like in your first poem, they know best!
They need 'food' to sustain their JTR habit.
Judgement day was very funny and the last line where they are allowed back to carry on, is good as they say that is why we keep coming back to earth .. to persue our desires.
Your use of words is excellent .. 'splendid stuff' in my opinion.; 5 April 2009 at 17:41
Maria said...: Victoria, I found very funny the one where the magician pulls out a rat instead of rabbit ! Times must have been very tough in those days but that did not stop the magician from the idea, ' the show must go on ' This is something of which only Robert would think.

I liked them all but Judgement Day seemed more atmospheric in a way. I cannot imagine God being thrown out of his throne and the angels sitting outside. The unmasking of Jack the Ripper reminded me in a way of Poirot about to say who the murderer was, except that Jack made a bunk ! Maybe if Robert had placed the scene in Hell rather than Heaven, I am sure that the devil knows who Jack the Ripper is, as he is more likely to be down there in the Census of Hell than in Heaven as indeed most of the Ripperologists are too!

As Robert Linford was the only one who went to hell for his smoking habit, he is the only one who really knows who Jack was...

I once wrote a poem about red roses and I was told it was rotten by someone who knows about poetry. So I suppose I am better of painting red flowers than writing poems about red flowers. Hee,hee !; 6 April 2009 at 10:53
Anonymous said...: Yes Maria, I too particularly liked Judgement Day .. looks like many went to Heaven on that day, including most of the Ripperologists! They must be all good people? Filling the hall, so that even the angels had to sit outside?
But storming God's throne so that even God .. who I thought would fear no-one, had to leap clear! Seems a bit disrespectful of these patrons .. who are trying to establish their credentails so they can enter this heavenly establishment.
But God gave them 'their idea of Heaven', and was left in peace in his Heaven.; 7 April 2009 at 00:50
Maria said...: Victoria, Maybe the standards for going to heaven have dropped quite dramatically. It more looks like hell over flowed with too many people and the Ripperologists simply gate-crashed the gates of heaven.; 7 April 2009 at 01:24
Anonymous said...: Maria, that makes perfect sense to me .. the riperologists are simply, (well most of them, anyway) gatecrashers from that lower realm!; 7 April 2009 at 16:05
Maria said...: Victoria, the first one reminds me of Steve trying to tell the ripperologists the origins of the fake diary; with these people, even if Jack the Ripper himself came up to tell them how he did these crimes, the ripperologists would not believe him, as they only believe the theories that they have written about in their books.; 8 April 2009 at 03:59
Maria said...: Thank you for posting these fine poems Robert. We can see that you are a poet.

It is a long time since I have been sent original poems and that was special.

Soy tan feliz
Como una codorniz

( I am as happy as a bird ); 8 April 2009 at 10:22
Anonymous said...: Maria,
your last two comments here are very well said, hear, hear ..
yes, and thank you to Robert for sharing your poems.; 8 April 2009 at 16:06
dougie said...: Have you heard ,among the Ripper clan?
Jack will never be the forgotten man
Well did you evah?
What a swell party this!

Some whores! some frocks!
Some knives,some shocks!
Some blood!
Its all so exquisite
some franch champage
washes down the kidneys and brain
Thats gory-its the end
more blood and guts-my friend!

Have you heard -Jack had his lunch
intestines and innards was his fav brunch
Well did you evah?
What a swell party this is!

Its great -its grand
Jack in his wonderland!
That liver-some dish!
That flesh-tastes like fish!
that womb-medium rare!
sprinkled with camambert
those ribs-that bum!
with a drop of canadian rum!

Well did you evah?
wat a swell party ...swell party ..swell party this is!; 16 May 2009 at 10:18
dougie said...: Just looked at the flowers...I liked them.carry on with the good work.; 20 May 2009 at 04:08

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