Look, A Forest

Painting by Ivan Shishkin

Shoppers

Whenever i’m at a supermarket I always feel like i’m in the way.

Much like this elephant.

I just like looking at vegetables.
I mean how do you know your getting the best tomatoes for your money if you don’t peruse every tomato in the shop. There may be one tomato hiding at the bottom that’s the best tomato anyone has ever tasted.

Angry shoppers look at me like i’m an irritation, hindering their shopping experience. I just have a lot of time on my hands.

I get home and lay out my beautiful, plump, fresh vegetables.
They get home and weep over their unripe peaches.

Fools.

Look, Some Clouds

Painting by Caspar David Friedrich

Fears

“His work has changed my perception… of perception”
– Time Magazine
“After visiting his art exhibit I lay on the floor for 4 hours and wept”
– Vogue
“What is life?”
– National Geographic

These are just some of the reviews people would publish about me if my work was more popular. I wrote to Time magazine suggesting that they review my work but they did not respond.

I believe this is because of fear. Fear that if my work was to be distributed to a wider audience it might change things.
It may change the very make up of society.

Seriously though, they’re probably very busy.
I mean, I only sent a few letters, i’m sure i’ll get a reply soon.
Maybe they got lost in the mail.
…I’ll send another.

Look, A Reflection

Painting by Isaac Levitan

Stories

Thin Legs and Long Neck.
On The Decks A Vinyl Spins.
Dropping Some Sick Beats.
Haiku 1 – “The Stork” by Art Artz

Always Rotating.
The Cold Tarmac Rubs His Skin
A Short Dizzy Life.
Haiku 2 – “Wheels” by Art Artz

The Cement Binds Them.
But One Brick Wished He was Free.
His Friends Disapproved.
Haiku 3 – “Bricks” by Art Artz

His Arthritis Creaks.
Writing Down His Memories.
Quiet Senescence.
Haiku 4 – “Age” by Art Artz

Look, Some Waves

Painting by John Constable

Cats

The cats gather round as he approaches. He has the air of someone important about him and a glow to his fur that draws their eyes, even at this distance.

They know him well, he had been one of them. Just a simple alley cat. But he had made the big time.

He was a house cat.

Here for his annual return to his roots, complete with cat food gifts and endless tales of the high life. Regaling the rapidly growing crowd with stories of free food, sleeping on the sofa and unconditional love.

He epitomizes their hopes and dreams. An unattainable feline deity.
His presence runs a fine line between adoration and resentment.
An idolised celebrity.

And his fall from grace was all the more dramatic for it.

Look, Some Lightning

Painting by Gaspard Dughet

Pencils

“Please no” the pencil murmurs as the sharpener rapidly approaches. “I’m small as it is…”
A nearby pencil case cackles cruelly at the pencil as it’s cries fall on deaf ears.

Oh how he wished to be a sharpie… those guys were so cool, with their ever lasting ink. His work could be brushed away with a simple rubber.

“it’s what’s inside that counts” His mother had always said, completely unaware of the irony. His grandfather had been Shakespeare’s pencil. He was just downright average. He just didn’t have the creativity of the rest of his family.

The sharpener slowly and cruelly shaved away another chunk of wood reducing his length ever more.
Forever under appreciated…
Poor Noris…