Eve before the apple dreamt
in softened pastel shades
of limpid waters, shady nooks,
pale suns and gentle rains.
And Adam too, was placid, calm
and even in his ways.
But something in the apple burnt,
a poison at its core
that left her with a taste for fire -
unknown in Eden's bounds -
a thirst that Paradise itself
could never satisfy.
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
This post has in a sense been handed to me by two or three responses to my post On not getting it. In the course of discussing how a reade...
Tom Lubbock, writing in The Independent (friday 15 May 2009) returned to the age old topic of censorship in the arts. Well, in painting act...