Recently I met a Finnish couple Who are both artists They have purchased a studio Which is about five hundred yards Away from the lanes that cross At present they are working with water And tend to paint quietly on the cliffs I mainly work with acrylics But have returned to water We frequently paint […]

Cofra Station is a small village in Southern Crete It is where I summer swim and paint My studio is on the edge of Phillipine Ruins In a remote part of the island I have a steady stream of guests Who like me are artists of colour

The photographer Bill Wilson once said That a camera will not understand a woman Until its lens has seen her quite naked In a way I agree with this And as a nature photographer I always go into the countryside Just as the dawn is breaking To capture the essence Oh her naked beauty

Viktor was facingThe railway viaduct An elongated thoughtHad begun to trouble him As he could seeBut not hear Trains As they passed Overhead His fiancee Julie Was wearing An Orange Dress

Viktor was facing A railway viaduct An elongated thoughtBegan to trouble him As he could see Rats drowning In the river sewer Viktor was very tall And stooped a little He was aware of this And it embarrassed him

Hollow in its echos The city was hot Unusually hot Its colours Had not Faded

I frequently see Black Nomads Passing my wilderness In the desert Of my dreams

We often visit The Old English Fort When we return from a swim Our clothes dry On the peaceful battlements Whist we relax in the sun It is a pleasant way To pass an afternoon

These are the end of days When the summer fades Whilst wearing her finest dress I have just collected Two red stone pebbles In celebration of the sinking sun

This small dusty book contains a poem Written by a slave owner and is an account Of the execution by hanging of one of his slaves Who was accused of brutally raping A white woman in her own house It was written just over two hundred years ago And is a fine and moving poem […]