The Drowning Sea
The Death of Icarus
I’ve re-connected with my interest in abstract art. These are acrylics on canvas. The Midnight Trees has an under painting done in masking fluid and so it catches the light from various angles, quite unintentional I assure you.
Words and dodgy photographs © D. Archer . December 2015.
Here are some more crimes against photography I committed whilst on a recent wander.
Once again I strongly urge you to stay away, its a terrible place, all that natural light, beautiful inspiring wildlife, scenery and lung cleansing fresh air. I can’t think of anything worse. You wouldn’t like it honestly.
Landscape © Deity of your choosing, photographs © D. Archer. February 2015
Crook of Devon, Scotland. March 2014. © D. Archer 2014.
The rules are simple
for carving initials in a tree
the one with the knife
carves the initials on top
but the one below
carves them twice as deep.
© D. Archer. December 2012
The touch of my own hand draws weary,
long gone the soft skin of another
that would in street or field squeeze
between my ungloved fingers
a head turning smile
that had no needs for words.
Once the cinder path would make the only sound,
uniform under foot we walked our own pace,
oblivious to life’s diverging reasons;
now the clock between us says the most
and we find ourselves painfully lost
in the middle of a sentence
that is mirrored only
by the depth of the season.
I, alone, open my eyes
and inhale the weather just to see
the last leaf falling from the giving tree,
the demise of autumn,
the remains of regrets that lie on my tongue
will feed me through the winter
as I withdraw from the light
and hibernate from love.
© D. Archer. October 2012
you see a tree
remember his love for you
numbered ten times
“But”, I hear you say;
“Trees have no leaves in Winter
and like my life it is barren and bare”;
Relax I say; The leaves may be gone
but the tree is always there.
“What when they chop it down” you say;
“there will be nothing left to remember”;
Relax I say; Life, like some trees, is short;
but beautiful memories live forever.
© Copyright D. Archer May 2012