Literary Vegan

The world is very bright, Even the grey mornings. Each person is a spark of energy - A story hovers over them like an aura. Even standing still, I need to gather my responses, Animal instincts overwritten  With theatrical instruction. My electricity is colourful  You love the explosion -  And I love the show  The performance of eyes, The magic making a mouth move.  You say that is life,  Stop hiding. I say art settles on a page. If I want to sit on the gallery bench Staring at my own painting in the dark Then I will.  LJ Ireton

The crown's exquisite diamonds sparkled, Speaking to everyone. In a sombre room of echoing steps, They outshone the candle tips, Sparks in soldier's staffs.  They are living in this moment of death - Lights of a life heavy to wear, prepared For shining - a song still singing freely above  The set strikes of timed sticks, The solemn clock of ceremony. They have seen history  And tell us now Of Kings and Queens Become monuments -  These jewels in breath or statue  Are always blinking. LJ Ireton 

And so Autumn blows a browning breath  Into the streets, around the tops of trees And days of sea salt are mined into memory. Arms and leaves start to fold,  But creation is a constant energy About to be found In dreams, on sheets, in sounds While the soil sleeps under  Red bowed heads. LJ Ireton 2022

I was taught that The clouds are like our thoughts  They come and go They thunder, they accuse They shelter, they surprise But the sky above them stays the same - Watches them stir, big and beautiful, frightening - Aware, but above the stream of movement.  So our minds must be. My mind can be a catastrophe, often. But occasionally I catch a glimpse  Of the grey clouds sailing Whether they like it or not They float, like the pretty ones, Onwards.  C. LJ Ireton