Jonathan Shayfer
Sunset
There are few things more sublime
than the quiet grandeur of a setting sun,
the dying stillness of a day,
breathing its last till the next dawn.
Boules
Where pungent cheese, baguettes are sold,
where old men drink cheap potent wine,
and chide each other over games of boules.
Napoleon came and went with the wind
but village life goes on...
Fire Cat
Heaven is a camp fire.
A splash of expendable whiskey
tempts the flames to leap higher,
while the spirit of a black and white feline
appears in the furnace.
Teaser and the Fire Cat
Spectres
They were just two builders on a roof,
but through the setting sun's filter,
they were so much more;
hazy, twisted spectres of light,
rock gods, dark angels even.
Grasp
Lone hands.
Do they want to come in or glad to stay out?
Grasping at iron or clutching at straws?
Staring at the railings or through the railings?
Harvest
The meadow opened up before me,
a Tirolean vista played out
for countless generations,
where the good Volk till the land
in God's Own Country.
Purple balloon
Through the cascade, a father tenderly holds his son
in unworldly oblivion
of aquatic semblance,
strangely anchored by purple balloons.
Dawn Runner
I waited early, in Cairns.
Two palms outlined against golden light,
a dawn runner entered the scene,
silhouetted by the dawn,
perfectly framed.
Old Woman
Kingdoms rise then fall,
monuments to man's grandiose dreams,
now no more than skeletal ruins.
But she endures,
walking this dusty road for millennia.
The red zone
It could have been hung at The Tate,
the crazy haphazard patterning
and outpouring of dazzling colour -
rather than the canal reflection
I stumbled upon that day.
Poppies on blue
Some see the war
and poppies growing on blood of the dead.
Some see design,
a summer dress with dazzling red.
And some see profit,
in fields of opium, daily bread.
Jester in the clouds
A celestial sky of rolling cloud;
a scarlet jingle-belled jester grins
at white canvas sprouting a cross.
Is this a dream?
The land
The earth may be teeming with people,
but desolate places still exist
where nothing breaks the light of the sun,
and a man can wander aimlessly
in search of....I don't know what.
Skyscrapin'
When buildings as tall as the sky
and firm as a mountain
and slick with modernity,
start to shimmer and buckle and warp -
then it's time to head for green pastures.
Grand tour
Jesters and jokers and Jacks.
Tourist-trapping t-shirts
saying "I'm with Stupid",
all pointing towards Parliament.