Tim Seaward Art Blog
I write surreal poetry. The following poem inspired me to produce this drawing:
Something or mercurial
Halting damsel morsel gently upon the roman side, and turning half bowelled thought into a braying mantel - a filling so called by gentle folks jolted cloth, in green blanched opiate, the largest jewel smelling ___ swelling ___ sliming on into the caramel night.
Of course across the ground was bently drawn and radient the ash child orchid licked ___ hardly worn ___ or oh perhaps a coupled with times ___ and how ... and least ___ ballistic rhymes.
As - this was no pheromone audience this was never a masculine crowd __" tantamount to a gaunt Saint Smithereens. This was a carefully drawn sand. A cathartic mentor in silent aubergine, draped with apathetic damask yet camouflaged in berry juiced sense and charging the witless ochre.
It was tar pitted against the fragile brawn and wratched the mild oafid ___ mildly mildly born ___ for once again into the duel of chimes ___ are onto now ___ and then anarchistic times.
So, its soultry movement was across the dawn until unstopped the grating mantel ___ heralded a line Coln green. It was here ___ this very spot that the dream blessed stone wall moved ___ and was to hear.
Martyred for a while, with a plainly laugh upon the coat drooling hazardly towards the light __" tearing at anguish molting in loosendom, and unravelling the motion between pigeon day ___ and arterial white.
It was a definite sound ... even a dazzling sparkle yet so bright yet so untarnished __" and as to pull a stripe from between the very hills. No ___ one tiny scrap one maiden voyage one chuckling sadhu's vow to tremble a doubtful chord ___ and a miss the opening of a heart.
So here it was ___ but the one Here it always was as it is so there, there ___ and there upon my hand just the pyramid lay abrupt in its minimal play spelt once and thus ___ one ___ one ___ and one.