Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Old calendars don't die - only their dates.

20 calendar images saved from the bin. 
Dr Abe V Rotor 

Day in, day out, year in, year out,
keeping old calendars souvenirs,
tracing each event, whereabout,
recounting sad, sweet memories.

If this painting can deceive the birds to come,
real to the eye, sweet and luscious;
what greater test can beat this masterpiece
but another artist’s own views?

A pair of hornbills on the watch, sentry of their world
against human intrusion, even in good faith and word.

Her world’s still, save the waterfall
tumbling, hissing, hiding her call.

A loving pair, a mother and child,

every mother’s dream and father’s pride
An angel comes down to earth
disguised in song and mirth.
Beauty, thou art in sophistication queer,
lost in a myriad of love and tinge of fear.

By a wishing well deep in thought,
blossoming of youth that girls sought.

Regal in Oriental custom in Western setting,
Oh, how we mix beauty with every little thing.
Love wakes up like flower in the morning,
bees buzzing and butterflies fluttering.

A girl no longer, her doll in the shelf,
strange this new life to know herself.
Fantasy land, all creatures are one,
children in make believe and fun.

 A young adventurer sets for the quest;
a bold future, we can only guess.
A ballerina is born, and made, too,
work of gene and practice in a duo.
Nymphs at play sans cares and worries,

envy of children in a thousand stories

In their prime, forever they are,
destined together to one star.
Peacocks in a parlor have lost their color
in lieu of fancy and make-believe valor.
Still life, artists call this subject of art;
True, they’ve ceased to be part of life.
These dolls and nymphs are but one
to children they’re second to none.

Cupid, at long last you’ve shown
this world can’t wait and I’m alone.

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