Painting and poetry

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

Gas

I have this van, it's a 4 seater and kind of huge...it's always packed...
I always have a lot of passengers.

In the front seat always next to me is this guy named "Art" I always feel obligated to give him the priority front seat, but he is pretty needy always bumming money.

In the second seat back is this guy named "Garden" who is often quite generous. Garden borrows money often usually every spring but always pays me back.

In the third seat back is this crazy friend named "Fly-fish”, well he is a fun distraction, but also has expensive tastes. I like to hang out with him sometimes as much as I can really. He is really fun guy!

Way in the back is my oldest friend; her name is "Music." I put her in the back because she is a bit bi-polar and prone to outbursts. I collect those thoughts of her and they are such pleasant memories I don't think I will ever forget her. Sometimes I worry I don't spend enough time with her.

All the while the most important one is sort of invisible but the most important to me her name is "Gas". She is the fuel I live for and the love of my life. She is probably the most important "friend" I have. I need to always remember that because I couldn't go anywhere without her. Though sometimes because she is in the tank I forget about her. I always have to remember, it's a work in progress.

All my friends and I have had some really great times. I have all these friends that I like to attend to and disperse my attention as evenly as I can, but it is difficult. I like my friends. Sometimes it is hard to give them all the attention they deserve.

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

a rework in progress...

Simple Times

I was born in 53
a post world war infancy
Back when we were
Kennedy's and kings
Struck down for proud wings
Riding in the back seat,
viewing what we all see
Through a windshield of destiny...
For those Simple Times….
Those Simple Times
We saw hope and rock n roll,
Teen angst in the shadow
of a future pall,
Yeah we did it all
didn’t know what dreams to forgo…
The future looked bright
like shiny chrome
The juke box played 45's
rock and roll and jive
We lived a life
and called it home
Time just flies
while you're alive
Hey, Hey, you know what they say?
Looking back There's a price we pay...
Dancing Along, singing life's song
we see past shadows
that stretch our days
Big Cars and Fat cigars
with food put by in jars…
a Kind of naive sublime…
of those Simple Times…
Riding in the back seat,
seeing what we all see
Through the windshield
of lifes' destiny…
For those Simple Times….
those Simple Times
We saw hope and rock n roll,
Teen angst in the
shadow of a future pall,
Yeah we did it all
I was born in 53
a post world war infancy
Back when we were
Kennedy's and Kings..
Struck down for our proud wings….
And we look back in wonder
A pure capsule in time
as we travel at light speed
And our minds and bodies ache
with a need for simple times
From the depths of sleep
Our memories keep us
Tied to life's majesty?
Plying us with sympathy
We love days gone by
As days pass to night
We gauge our plight
We see that subtlety
Of those simple times.

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

This might be fun… watercolor glued to tempered board in 1979. A self portrait. On the upper Wind River kind of a composed made up scene

 

[Zak]

Tom O' Bedlam's Song
Anonymous ballad, circa 1620

From the hag and hungry goblin
That into rags would rend ye,
The spirit that stands by the naked man
In the Book of Moons, defend ye.
That of your five sound senses
You never be forsaken,
Nor wander from your selves with Tom
Abroad to beg your bacon,
While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

Of thirty bare years have I
Twice twenty been enragèd,
And of forty been three times fifteen
In durance soundly cagèd.
On the lordly lofts of Bedlam
With stubble soft and dainty,
Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips, ding-dong,
With wholesome hunger plenty,
And now I sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

With a thought I took for Maudlin,
And a cruse of cockle pottage,
With a thing thus tall, sky bless you all,
I befell into this dotage.
I slept not since the Conquest,
Till then I never wakèd,
Till the roguish boy of love where I lay
Me found and stript me nakèd.
While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

When I short have shorn my sow's face
And swigged my horny barrel,
In an oaken inn, I pound my skin
As a suit of gilt apparel;
The moon's my constant mistress,
And the lovely owl my marrow;
The flaming drake and the night crow make
Me music to my sorrow.
While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

The palsy plagues my pulses
When I prig your pigs or pullen
Your culvers take, or matchless make
Your Chanticleer or Sullen.
When I want provant, with Humphry
I sup, and when benighted,
I repose in Paul's with waking souls,
Yet never am affrighted.
But I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

I know more than Apollo,
For oft when he lies sleeping
I see the stars at mortal wars
In the wounded welkin weeping.
The moon embrace her shepherd,
And the Queen of Love her warrior,
While the first doth horn the star of morn,
And the next the heavenly Farrier.
While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

The Gypsies, Snap and Pedro,
Are none of Tom's comradoes,
The punk I scorn, and the cutpurse sworn
And the roaring boy's bravadoes.
The meek, the white, the gentle,
Me handle not nor spare not;
But those that cross Tom Rynosseross
Do what the panther dare not.
Although I sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

With an host of furious fancies,
Whereof I am commander,
With a burning spear and a horse of air
To the wilderness I wander.
By a knight of ghosts and shadows
I summoned am to tourney
Ten leagues beyond the wide world's end:
Methinks it is no journey.
Yet I will sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

 

[Zak]

I'm not much of a poet, myself, but I like poetry. I hope @Capt Insano Emeritis doesn't mind if I dilute his work with a few favorites from the works of others.

Ozymandias​

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

I'm not much of a poet, myself, but I like poetry. I hope @Capt Insano Emeritis doesn't mind if I dilute his work with a few favorites from the works of others.

Ozymandias​

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

I met a traveller from an antique land,

“I certainly would never have an issue with the romantic Percy Blythe Shelley!”
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

I enjoy the Romantic era poets a lot. Thanks for that

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

Dashboard

Sitting behind the wheel
With no where to go
Where I am going
Is hard to say
I don't really know

I see what is around me
Outside the windshield
Just sitting and waiting
For an inspiration to go

In front of me
On the dashboard
Is an artifact I placed there
Where I found it
I could not say
Maybe it was always there

It's just a dashboard Jesus
A little plastic sign
A symbol to remind me
Of something
I am trying to find

Life and waiting
Distractions abating
Wonder entices me
I have questions
The answers evade me

Symbolism I find
Right under my nose
Often I ignore it
Or voice it in prose

The keys are in my hand
As I sit thinking and waiting
For some answers too big

I have questions
About the weight
Of the world
And this land

It's just a dashboard Jesus
A little plastic sign
A symbol to remind you
Of something
You are trying to understand.

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

Thunder

My Instinct tells me
As I grow old
That times change
and I become less bold

I remember the fire
That furnace within
as life transpires
and new days begin

I see a course ahead
A path and fight to win
A challenge instead
To set and imagine

Memories fade
Of lessons learned
I can't ever evade
All the pages turned

I feel the thunder
Of the days we knew
enable the wonder
Days pass and grow true

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

Modulus of Elasticity

Closing a chapter
Those eventful years...
It was short story
This scares me a bit...
To guess, I am feeling
Effects of continental drift...
The harder one paddles
The further shore retreats...
Hope to see Pangea
With its great unity
Rifts mended
Head and hearts too.
A review is needed.
Time travel,
For moments revisited
Hearts mended.
Do I repeat myself?
Simulfax me
A new story
It can be written…
By another author
A sad annexation.

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

Love?

There is love
and a connection and care
and then there is comfort
then there is affinity
Within all that is the usual
Tell me is that enough?
Does it feed your heart?
Is it what you need
or do you need something more,
Like an embrace of heart
an expansive wholistic thing
Some kind of devotion
Where your heart swells
When she is near
Or your pulse slows or quickens
Because you are in love
You can analyze and think
All you want to, but you will never
Figure any of it out
Because the reason and weight
Of emotion and feeling
Is unfathomable

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

A few commissioned paintings. The triptyck for SW WA hospital, Firstenberg Tower-a gift for a fly fishing friend fly rod that is about 6” long. Another commission for a collector

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

I painted this while i was substitute teaching High School art classes. I wetted the paper and I coated my arm and wrist with frisket and pushed across the stretched 300 lb Arches paper. I used frisket wet in wet for a predicted effect. I was inspired by commenting about the turmoil in the world. The lesson to the students was to open their minds to what was truly relevant to them and explore non conventional techniques.

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

Not painting or poetry but had to share this magnificent sculpture
A sculpture in Cairo Airport by Shaaban Abbas

 

[troutstalker]

Not painting or poetry but had to share this magnificent sculpture
A sculpture in Cairo Airport by Shaaban AbbasView attachment 27976

That's really interesting.

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

Framed a little something we found cleaning up the cabin on the Washougal river

It was challenging in that the frame is 3” x 3”.

 

[troutstalker]

Framed a little something we found cleaning up the cabin on the WashougalView attachment 32298 river

It was challenging in that the frame is 3” x 3”.

Cool picture Skip! I like the frame. Looks good.

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

Riffle

There is a little stream
Near by, I can heat it
A little riffle, a small dream
It calls to me, it beckons me
And I visit, whenever I can
I can’t explain exactly…
But that beckoning voice
Calls me often
Water over rock
A chorus, glistening
In daylight and moonlight
That mood beckons me
With meaning
Just a little riffle
A wet spot
A vein pulsing , blood
From mother earth
The stream, creek, or crick
Wherever you live
It does the trick
There is a riffle, that entices
To those that love
And know what that is
A tiny place , haven for fish
A creature that defines beauty
Water defines why we are
We need to remember this
In all we do,
Make and create
A riffle is a symbol
That life relies upon
This simple truth.

 

[Capt Insano Emeritis]

View attachment 6672

A little commission for Scott Richmond, author and owner of the now defunct Westfly. I enjoy doing caricatures of fly fishing friends

 

[Zak]

Riffle

There is a little stream
Near by, I can heat it
A little riffle, a small dream
It calls to me, it beckons me
And I visit, whenever I can
I can’t explain exactly…
But that beckoning voice
Calls me often
Water over rock
A chorus, glistening
In daylight and moonlight
That mood beckons me
With meaning
Just a little riffle
A wet spot
A vein pulsing , blood
From mother earth
The stream, creek, or crick
Wherever you live
It does the trick
There is a riffle, that entices
To those that love
And know what that is
A tiny place , haven for fish
A creature that defines beauty
Water defines why we are
We need to remember this
In all we do,
Make and create
A riffle is a symbol
That life relies upon
This simple truth.

"Near by, I can heat it" --hear it?