A Part of Me

My first book, Phrotose, is now published, Available in good bookshops and the internet. Overall its been well received, Although no vast royalties yet. At first, I was truly afraid, That I had left myself exposed and bare. Opened up too much about yours truly, That few readers would really give a care. Perhaps I’d been a little too self indulgent, Prose of my life, my values, my thoughts. Will folk readily identify with these musings, Or just regret the volume they’d bought? Then one morning listening to Phil Collins, Pondering, “who’s really interested in his nuptial woes?” Realised that worldwide millions are devoted, Heart on his sleeve fills all of his shows. Any artist of true sincerity, Be it script, music or sculptured craft, Must sacrifice a fragment of their core as a gift, Embedded to their creation they graft. Failing to meet this prerequisite, Doomed bland, uninspired and soulless. Mass produced as being market driven. So be strong, believe in your naked uniqueness. To conclude: I make no apology, For my sentiments that follow in this book. I trust you are amused and contemplative, As introvertly you are persuaded to look. — Philip Wood

You can purchase my book either by googling' "Phrotose" or going to this link

Le portrait patagon

La Pataphysique, science fictive des épiphénomènes, s'est glissée dans mon œil. Et ma caméra vive Dans ma chambre oscura Se jeta, énergique, Sur le contour fictif D'une épiombre phénoménologique : Le portrait patagon ! — Eleonore Sur

En lisant Merleau-Ponty

Réveillée par la pluie au milieu de la nuit je reprends Merleau-Ponty. Et c'est vrai ce qu'il dit ! « C'est en prêtant son corps au monde, que le peintre change le monde en peinture » Et il invoque Cézanne et sa « rumination » du monde, « sans autre technique que celle de ses yeux et de ses mains » Et je vois un visage dans les ombres du plafond. Les crayons me manquent, comme parfois les mots manquent. — Eleonore Sur

Lorsque je peins

Lorsque je peins Je me sens bien Je ne pense à rien Sauf à mon dessin Je n'ai besoin de rien Et jamais je ne me plains Même si mes efforts sont vains Même si le résultat ne vaut rien Avoir essayé, c'est déjà bien Le tableau fini, le but est-il atteint ? Il n'en est rien Puisque je pense déjà au prochain. — Gérard Miro

We are sailing

Bobbing up and down, on the crest of a wave, These small children are very brave. They are watching the teachers every move, Hoping the sea, stay’s calm and smooth. Their bright pink sails, shining in the sun, They seem to be enjoying the run. Then the teacher shouts, time to go home, They turn their boats round and slightly groan. They head off towards the quay, And arrive home, in time for tea. — Gillian Reid

We are on our way

What a lovely journey over the mountains going to Spain, The sun was shining brightly, not a drop of rain. You can still see the snow, on top of the peaks, Huge birds soaring, clicking their beaks. We stopped for a picnic, and stared at the view, It made us so happy, to see the sky so blue. We had a short walk, looking around, Seeing pretty flowers on the ground. We could not stay long, we had to go, Thank you mountains, for the wonderful show. We finally set off on our way, And always remember, this lovely day. — Gillian Reid

The lonely owls

Two baby owls looking so sad, They have no mummy or a dad. People take care of them in a zoo, You can visit them twit-twoo. Dear little things, they need new friends, To them company, that never ends. When they get bigger, they could fly away, And have a family, forever and a day. — Gillian Reid

Having a nap

It’s lovely to lie in front of the fire, Watching the flames, jumping higher. Dreaming of juicy bones, and other dogs, Listening to the crackling of the logs. It’s a hard life, we have today, So sleep well my friend, then go out to play. — Gillian Reid