Bunya moon, dark and light...
Raw silk sea
lifts, billows, folds, falls, frays...gathers
and tosses me through
an egg shell blue void.
White collars of foam
Belts of salt
Ephemeral lace cloths...
Belts of salt
Ephemeral lace cloths...
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I wanted to push through the red velvet curtains... They would return, glowing and breathless, pulling pins out...unzipping clothes and flinging accessories across the floor as a whirlwind of adrenalin shoved me aside. (from The Red Curtains copyright Elizabeth g. Arthur) THIS CREATIVE LIFE... |
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Melaleuca candelabra...
Table settings change
Guests arrive, depart...
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I want to live here forever on mornings like this when heavy clusters of purple bells
hang like an overdecorated Christmas tree... Then fall as confetti may at a month long wedding. |
MIRROR, MIRROR...
What's there... What isn't there... What do you want to see... 
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Closing doors,
Closed doors. New doors, What colour doors? Open them... |
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Through the maze of twigs...
Their heady scent seducing our senses
as the seasons change...
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Silent sky,
Metal birds absent. Magpies oblivious, warble. Blossoms alive, Lines listen... 
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Peacock green and blue (my favourites), ruby reds, rose pinks, rose yellows, azure, tangerine... My tongue roamed excitedly along my lips. Violet, coal black, mandarin orange, moonlight white...
“Indigo!” I plucked the storm dark thread from where it nestled between slate grey and olive green (I never chose those colours. Too boring, like the uniform Mrs. Breem wore at the chemist shop).
...She started her first tapestry the day they turned the soil for the apple trees. The first thread was green. For new pasture. And then, yellows and browns for the swathes cut through the crops in spirals, diagonals, squares and rectangles.
She wove the colours of the sky. Sunrise wisps of fairy floss pink. Late afternoon low, broad streaks which faded to pools of blue so pale and deep she felt she could jump into them if she climbed the hill above the stables. Indigo storms. And golden light after the rain.
life and love rich in colours...choose the best quality thread...
from short story Choose A Colour ©Elizabeth g. Arthur
“Indigo!” I plucked the storm dark thread from where it nestled between slate grey and olive green (I never chose those colours. Too boring, like the uniform Mrs. Breem wore at the chemist shop).
...She started her first tapestry the day they turned the soil for the apple trees. The first thread was green. For new pasture. And then, yellows and browns for the swathes cut through the crops in spirals, diagonals, squares and rectangles.
She wove the colours of the sky. Sunrise wisps of fairy floss pink. Late afternoon low, broad streaks which faded to pools of blue so pale and deep she felt she could jump into them if she climbed the hill above the stables. Indigo storms. And golden light after the rain.
life and love rich in colours...choose the best quality thread...
from short story Choose A Colour ©Elizabeth g. Arthur
