Her face rides out front Body carved by artisan Not a live one steps foot Lest to say farewell Till return to homeland Her likeness revealing The love of artist heart Like a woman of dreaming Unreal onboard Writing home to her Every single day Or some piece to hold onto As tide carries me away
Carved wooden piece from Svenor’s figurehead, wrecked Newcastle 1914. Donor Alistair Gibson. ~ Maritime Museum of Tasmania
So spine tingling Knuckle gripping Pillow hugging Daze eyed drinking Hard when comes time To realise the dream Is not real We will wake Whenever we're ready Or else stay Asleep
Haymaking Sunshine and rain Brave one who Hops onboard Riding forward While others gather Receiving stores Bailing and loading Sundried piled high Wheat and straw For each living thing In community Out of rain Hoping greenness Had gone away Save spontaneous Combustion
Meanwhile few Content with Love's gleanings Slim pickings On the fringe Taking only What they need To feed or bake Wheaten loaf For family roast Horse or goat Stave off hunger Together For one more day
Deciding upon What to adorn My walls To keep me content In case we need to stay in again
Thick oak-look frame Appearance is everything Sandstone smiles In the shade Sun behind Holding up a glorious Bouquet of natives Flannel flower power Blue gum leaves My own arrangement By request Selected anything With white bloom Tea tree in season Looking like A big cauliflower Dried nicely In my room I remember
The next a mirror Painted frame Like retro glam Gold and silver Telling me Look at you -How you've weathered So nicely In the stormy seas- Looking at me
Another gold Circular seal With purple For royalty A lineage When born again Not feeling it In fact it tells me Yes you studied Greek among men Not so different From the halls Of Plato Ecumenicum Blending in With other Women Carry a Grecian Jug on my head So as not to attract Attention
A bold shot of blue Spread from end to end Covered in blossoms From a shaky hand Eyes near blind World inside The mind of Monet My dear almond blossom Friend Telling me it's time To leave these walls Behind Remember the branch Severed at one end Can bloom and grow Again
Just as in a day Can take a breath Enslave it By evening freed In listless sigh Of resignation And sleep Don't dream it, be it Is nature's cry As several evolutions Of matter Land on my thigh Her eyes trace the outlines Mating decorations Imagining them away To nothing Come undone Completely For several hundred and one Days spent between extremes Fighting, crying, sight Laughing, smiling, delight No greater affirmation More than three letters Yes, or I do In the still dark silence There is none other But you
Artists of Tasmania ~ Lucienne Rickard. Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery.