Art of ........

Hey...saw a similar image on the net...was not a sketch or a painting or anything...i guess was a thing made on photoshop or something...tickled me a bit...' I have to sketch this'... i thought... and here it is ...cheers...cyril

Temptations & Bliss

Have tried to sketch and capture just that...the question is...what is right? what is wrong? what is a sin? what is immoral? If there is a yardstick...what is it...how is it applied...I don't have the answers...just a few thoughts and lots of questions...cheers...cyril

Nightmares

This one is called 'Nightmares'... I am sure we have all had them... I hate explaining my sketches...but would love to hear your interpretation of them...cheers...cyril

Respect the Form

A few of my sketches...some are shades from my thoughts...some I have seen somewhere and have sketched to convey what that image meant to me...hope you enjoy them...as much as I have sketching them... cheers...cyril

Whistling Woods

Whistling woods, possessed trees,

Unhappy spirits travel ling from stone to stone,

Distorting their face with tears and rains from up above,

Distracted, unreal you feel, till a sorrowful soul catches your eye,

Bleeding emptiness in a dark, scary corner,

Whimpered that love killed it, when it passed away,

A heart once he lived in, called itself unfortunate and haunted.

Untimely death, he lived after dying to pay for the crimes, the debt,

To rid of the suffocation, beyond any imagination, melting will,

Bleeding emptiness in a dark scary corner…..

Rendezvous...was never scripted

The restless lines on my bed share my story,
The dampness on my pillow speak my language,
It is pouring when I see outside my window and its raining fire on the inside, where I can’t look anymore,
An unwanted feeling gaining roots, an unwanted organ like, prominent in the harm its doing,
Tear it away it screams, tear it away they scream, the lines on my bed and the dampness on my pillow,
Can’t, I am unable to, I am trying, I am sweating, feels like a nightmare, only it is real,
Wake up, wake up, open your eyes I say, I plead, I can’t, I am unable to, only that my eyes are already open,
Questions in my mind perturbing me, find the answers, uncover the answers, please, please find them they beg, only that none exist,
Make this night end, let the sun break out, make it end, carve it out, please, please, they beseech, they implore on their knees, I can’t, I am unable to, only a rendezvous for the night and day was never scripted,
They share my story; speak my language, the restless lines and the dampness…

Man Weather

For once the weather feels like me,
A dusty storm with a shower of rain,
It is lost and frustrated,
Injured and wild,
It is strong and crying,
Anger inside to blow away homes,
But caring enough to fight the scorn,
A struggle raging in its heart, silently creeping up,
A quiet build up that will burst into thunders, any moment now,
But instead it keeps staring with its iron gaze,
It has to pour; it has to cry tears through rain tonight,
But it holds it up and gives no signs,
As the world fearfully watches it brazenly brushing past,
People now gradually easing as it seems to calm down,
But it silently rages inside, the world unaware as it shows no signs,
Smirking it passes by but hiding the teary eyes,
For once the weather feels like me,
This is to what it has come,
A mirror image is what I have become….