I did not have a lot of time this morning so I just did a colored pencil sketch of a poppy flower to go along with the Cedar Waxwing I drew last night. I used my own photographs for reference on these drawings. The words on the pages are poems. I did not plan out the page right, because I was in another "wing it" kind of mood this morning, so the last sentence did not fit on my poppy page. DOOH! Not a big deal, this is just my journal and just a place to practice my art. But, still I have so much to learn! lol The pages have poems on them that I have posted below. Now I am off to do some much needed tidying up of my craft room then off to pottery class.
John McCrae, Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
- Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire
"I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
By the false azure in the windowpane;
I was the smudge of ashen fluff - and I
Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky.
And from the inside, too, I'd duplicate
Myself, my lamp, and apple on a plate;
Uncertaining the night, I'd let dark glass
Hang all the furniture above the grass,
And how delightful when a fall of snow
Covered my glimpse of lawn and reached up so
As to make chair and bed exactly stand
Upon that snow, out in that crystal land!"
