Tremr

Fingers slowly turned to stone, The seed already sown, Today, I see it full grown, A companion I’d rather not known, A life popping pills, Just to try and stay still, To witness the thrill, Of a drink unspilled, Drifting, Reality keeps on shifting, Systems slow, gears grind, A shadow clouds my mind, Well, things could be worse, I had the foresight to marry a nurse, I can still code, When my thoughts finally load, I can live with the dreams (so vivid), A pack of wolves, ran off with my tools. Wild? I was livid, Drifting, Reality keeps on shifting, I’ll be back from the deep, Just need a little sleep.

Why do we make art, be it painting, music, film, sculpture, poetry, or whatever? There must be countless reasons. For me, it is about trying to capture something beautiful or otherwise noteworthy that I’ve experienced or maybe dreamt. The most basic aim is to create something that triggers a memory of the ephemera that caught my attention. Better than that would be to fashion a thing that communicates the passion that inspired me to those close to me. If I’ve done a really good job, it may even appeal to those outside my circle. That would be nice but it is, for me, a smaller concern. The thought of putting a smile on the face of one you love is appealing. It’s why we give presents on birthdays and at Christmas. It is part of love. I got a paper round when I was about fourteen. It paid pretty badly but it meant that I had a bit more money at least. Up until then, my Mum had very kindly and judiciously bought Christmas presents on my behalf. That year, I