David Karlsen

we watched a sunset crossing the town's footbridge it was chilly the hour had fallen back and we hugged each other to remain warm river flowing fast we were keen to return home our own estuary a white house we would recover novels from last left places Laura's dinner and probably music #poetry

Reading to William I read you a story I'd read you so many times and you listened attentively had grown used to my intonation the rise and fall of cadence you knew the emotions so well imparting them as always with those facial impressions bestowing my soft voice and the louder import too #poetry

Dead Island had a colony of puffins steep protective cliffs until the shipwreck when its rats invaded poured ashore changed forever a populated landscape and that estuary flowed dangerous as the rats where sea water met fresh and mists were now the island's sole occupation #poetry

Apples rouge coloured red were green over weeks these now sweet as kisses like smooth skined cool lovers already chosen some picked others eaten when their tang had not reached full promise of taste in their size seeing them still on the tree grown now ready was well worth the wait #poetry

Igneous Metamorphic Sedimentry from north Ordovician and Silurian sudden Old Red Sandstone unique cliffs defined Devonian Period quick snatches of Grey Limestone breaking into longer stretches this Carboniferous walks into the Cambrian age and then Precambrian the young Permian unfound #poetry

“Everything is Everything” by Clarence Heyward (American) – Acrylic & variegation leaf on canvas / 2022 – North Carolina Museum of Art (Raleigh, North Carolina) #WomenInArt #ClarenceHeyward #NCMA #art #artText #arte #BlackArt #PortraitofaGirl #LaurynHill #AfricanAmericanArt #NorthCarolinaMuseumofArt

Trek how the walk curved led them towards red sandstone cliffs one of many narrow pathed climbs that bent the back occasionally an unusual stone went into a rucksack replacing sandwiches with weight these would sit in the house silently with books and other Geology previously found #poetry

Drying Off for us would be challenging holding our arms out like a large aircraft but cormorants rest relax and then begin again I suppose it equates to our towelling after a shower except drying off takes longer and they've dived for dinner whereas we eat sitting sedately #poetry

The Sea the troublesome sea where we tread water when needing to pee eight women swim out where nobody can see open ourselves let free how troublesome can that be? #poetry

Lichen Yellow has warmth is best for painting their still lives rock aids colour remaining a perfect background etched with green miniatures which they easily co-habit areas with here rock chemicals in grey limestone supply nutrients and a coast's salt spray can be efficacious #poetry

Clouds gathered gaseous their love smell on your neck we watched them creamy their contours changing you have the longest neck I've seen the birthmark a light brown cloud on your neck's cream throat your perfect nape I leave my nose against while we women sleep cloud changing #poetry

a combination of shadow and reflection on a wet ill lit day energies were focused introspectively autumn's poor light an opening of cloud that gave the lane more light than a sea in a puddle of rain water shortly after this avenue closed the skies opened heavily #poetry

Evenings first the sunset pushing past headlands hanging in vague hope on the horizon its dip wide before a gradual wain narrows light down finally settling all in pressed pitch behind me village windows will blink yellow as if taken by surprise late evening sleep will blacken them #poetry

they had laid rubbing noses for some time before it happened Kazu's tongue licked Lauren's nostrils entered both of them Lauren whimpered they rubbed noses again wetly with energy before Kazu sucked Lauren's nose they both kissed walked around the reservoir Lauren's nostrils sore #poetry

Colours change seasonal dressing drops to beauty just as it rises in spring midsummer song while autumn wears its land eye light sea blue to drowning deep as if to drag us under if we make approach to wet chill my grey coat for winter has no such charm as waves hidden without a pleat #poetry

In October when looking at a tree it can be totally bare every leaf gone into the ground or still waiting to be taken by the wind's force this photograph was taken in 2015 in a town centre those 16 years younger it was my first attempt at photography my first attempt at visual poetry #poetry

The Bookmark was unusual but there again nothing had been usual in the otherworldly where she lived even a first name change if anonymously required unless time and trust had given them permission she would not let a precious bookmark suffer fracture the more delicate she loved #poetry

“La maja del perrito” (Maja with a Small Dog) by Eugenio Lucas Velázquez (Spanish) – Oil on canvas / 1865 – Museo Carmen Thyssen Málaga (Málaga, Spain) #WomenInArt #EugenioLucasVelazquez #MuseoCarmenThyssen #art #artText #arte #SpanishRomanticism #Maja #Velázquez #DogInArt #DogArt #SpanishArt

From the Window looking at a far headland where many times I'd watched a sun rise and come evening set there was no sunlight just a mountain range of cloud overtaking the blue morning like a horizontal curtain moving slowly yet certain in determination on a northern steady breeze #poetry

Thick Trunk was here since Charles the first although when a sapling Charles was no more a civil war had been underway Cromwell came and went as did many monarchs but you're still here in deep green company surrounding summer and in winter nourishing roots #poetry #ThickTrunkTuesday

Here is my #drawing of a #tree that I call "Slender Pink Tree." It measures 6" x 8."

It's a beautiful climb and you go down before you climb steeply again look back at a beach; a semicircle full of pebbles larger than your head but featureless. The limestone kilns appear, the mansion, rough breakwater, clay brought from Ireland in the last ice age on a gigantic ice floe. #poetry

Mia Purpura Tulipo you intrigue me more than any rose only they come near yet never can surpass you in any form or colour solid rocks as backdrop serve you well a beauty given suddenly in your deep love colour on faint warm breezes almost as if your breath is continually on my face #poetry

Holding Hands they'd sat on rocks in shorts thighs against each other pressure and sweat love tokens as heat moved across the sky for that day had been hot rocks below them dry grey ghosts Anaïs recalled that day and there were times when she felt Flavia in the beat of her heart #poetry

“Self Portrait” by M. Zena Lesser (American) – Oil on panel / – Cape Cod Museum of Art (Dennis, Massachusetts) #WomenInArt #MZenaLesser #CapeCodMuseumofArt #art #artText #arte #WomanArtist #WomensArt #CapeCod #SelfPortrait #CapeCodArt #oilpainting #AmericanArt #AmercanArtist #Lesser #womenartists

Ode to a Fallen Leaf green still full of apparent life intrusion of decay a curling pattern your beauty's pristine health was darker green edged away to beige then brown there gone completely must have blossomed stoutly another side of fulsomeness I see your valiant spine paler ribs #poetry

Horse on the Hill in your own way dear one you were moving like the wind had taken not only your tail but your legs, heartbeat, intention and withers that central balancing muscular point from where your hands are measured you came towards me with purpose love and I took this photograph #poetry

“The little things? The little moments? They aren't little.” — Jon Kabat-Zinn Painting: The Song of the Lark (1884) — Jules Breton.

Blue the land and sky protected each other fertile they breathed each others air and where ice collected higher hard impressions caused by blue intensity threw the temperatures low where an iris died or a sea would not survive blue as heat's intensity the misery of cold climbed easily #poetry

Our Time is evaporating slowly our long peace giving another dictator room to allow white fields to flourish after gathering together to prevent chaos already he has thrown people to the wind world wide it is time to gravely consider two past world wars others time to stop carnage #poetry

Flags this month flags are taken down every country's cloth ragged from months of whipping winds heatwaves faded brightest colours resisting as they might only seagulls flying until May the rook for company two different coloured flags peace still stands her clothing a mere silhouette #poetry

No Book or Writer Should be Banned in the UK you can get Mein Kampf from a library obtain it from a local book shop anywhere but you can't get a novel by dear Sally Rooney who writes brilliant novels because she supports an organization who merely wants to stop a nation being annihilated #poetry

Shadow in charcoal given to Laura when Kazu was first totally infatuated with her unable to sleep wanting her smell her voice her face so badly the birth mark on her neck Kazu when alone pulled her hair cried in an empty house knew her passion had almost bordered on madness #poetry

when she saw a pigeon she recalled one as a child seen in a wood head down dripping from its mouth had wanted to take it home make it well again as they drove home a feeling of guilt of her inadequacy followed her all the way "let nature take its course" was an excuse like "wars happen" #poetry

Defence was their objective arriving to protect the town giving gryones peace of mind flat streets survival hard Geology granite rocks would remain a thousand years erratics brought by road not the fierce seas or ice floes and arranged by strategic engineering #poetry

Trying something really different today! I drew up a striped base and added acrylics, then layered old paper cutout drawings overtop. What do you think? #abstractart #originalart #art #contemporaryart

The Days were moving on into closing evenings yet the garden retained yellow roses trees were losing foliage some bare early chattering sparrows left for nests in hedges and the robin had not been seen for days the sky was now devoid of a white gull's sweep roosting on some spare cliff #poetry

These Trees were five years younger when I took this photo of the estuary I was not living with Kazu and Anais they both were here in the white house but a few months newly married and I was in Sweden at Uppsala. These November trees remind me of happiness its accidental discovery #poetry

I asked Sylvia about her poetry in October. Turning to Blackberry Picking she asked me if I liked it. I told her I loved this poem as it opened nostalgic days for me being British. She asked if her being American affected the poem in any way; I told her her nationality was irrelevant to my reading.

Void away from the river's sound the sun was going finally that and leafless trees found a black void the mind's chemistry had suddenly changed now at a nadir thoughts not the morning's brightness but an endeavour where tears filled her eyes nostrils flared and she cried for no reason #poetry

Today’s #inktober #linocut of dog sleeping positions 🐡

by the boat shed removing clothes diving off the little pier the same seal came close every time watched our antics they were unknowingly an unofficial member of our surf club this black head with big and curious eyes just a few feet from where we would repeatedly dive into the water #poetry

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By the Palms they'd eaten lunch while reading a balmy day with a light grey sky a fanciful afternoon in late August with novels Ku had sat on the lawn between Flavia and Kazu her long paws stretched out in front her eyes opened only when Kazu inadvertently brushed against a bag of treats #poetry

Twig arrived on the tide where sand married the long journey's end. It was not asked where it came from. Its bark colour was not questioned, nor how long it intended to stay. A dog made a companion of its length then left it in peace. That night a complexity of star and moonlight watched it leave.

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it was a placid sky but one could see worry lines in the waves; not close to the shore these were further out in the future where trouble always lies gathering momentum and the rising wind cried out to be free of its own torment while the world waited as decent people died #poetry

It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world. Mary Oliver Photo by Fiona Louise Larkins

surprise reaching summit seeing grass growing at that height we felt we had to leave a question mark wondered whether grass would grow greener covering crude punctuation we didn't know we would never go there again strange how things change like horse cavalry charging metal tanks #poetry