While the sun is out playing in my garden, my tabby has his snooze on the windowsill :)

It's a strange thing, but whenever I'm about to begin a new painting I get into a nervous fidget - for example, I go into the kitchen and give it a thorough wiping over - the basin, the counters, the wall tiles, the cabinets, the works - all the while planning the painting at the back of my mind. I'm not a particularly domestic sort of person - have complete disinterest in it, actually - so it seems odd to me that I usually choose a domestic little activity to work off my nervous energy and work out the planning of the painting.

Meanwhile, while cleaning the said kitchen, I popped my head out of the window and discovered that the sun had dropped some yellow hues, some sap greens and magentas in my little garden :)

I loved doing this one, though I did struggle a little getting the perspective right.. not sure it's perfect even now, but doesn't look as odd as it did when I first laid on the paint. Once I realised I had gotten the perspective awry, I had to wipe out the first coat and do it all over again - major headache - and also forced me to work with impasto earlier than I had planned. Anyway, this has helped me to get back in some touch. Feeling rather satisfied with myself.. calls for a glass of wine as red as the flowers, to celebrate :) - One thing is for sure, I feel confident enough now to attempt bigger canvases than this 18*24. I like doing landscapes and abstracts on large canvases.

Wave Upon Wave Upon Wave

Wave upon wave upon wave

Rolling in on the shore

Ceaseless relentless

One following the other

Repeating over and over

Wave upon wave upon wave

Swelling heaving swishing swirling

On the seashore

I sit still on ephemeral sand

The land being nibbled

Grain by grain

And let their restless

Surging resurging swish- swash

Whispers wash over me

Lulling me into mindless torpor

Swish-swash Swish-swash

Ceaseless relentless restless

Wave upon wave upon wave

One upon the other

Rolling foaming breathing repeating

Swish-swash Swish-swash

Over and over and over

My torpid eyes half awake

Stir alive in restless urge

They gaze with restless search

Into the serene still blue sky

And fall again into the blue-green depths

Ceaseless relentless restless

Wave upon wave upon wave

Where… In which blue sky

Is that giant hand

That makes these waves

Rise and roll and fall and rise

And roll and fall

Over and over and over?

Who… What is that giant hand

That alone has the power

To still these waves

Forever and ever ever?

Still the waves

Forever and ever ever

By Rita Putatunda

Trees, especially gnarled old ones like this one, are my favourite theme.. Must restart my sketching again..

Though done in small scale, still, I'm pretty proud of this seascape.. I really like the green waves and the foam I've managed to create. But also know how much I struggled with it. Hence, need to practice, practice, practice.

I love the textured effect I managed to create and also the shading. I don't know what it is about this painting, but my eyes keep getting drawn to it. It's still on my easel. Once fully dry, I will frame this one and put it up somewhere..

I love the contrast the vivid orange makes on that dark background. Done in poster colours, I plan to do a big one of this in oils.

Flowers, especially vividly coloured ones like this, are such a delight to paint.

An abstract I'm working on, being painted on a canvas board. Whenever people, well, some people, see abstracts, they ask me.. but what does it mean.. what is it? Do you have something in mind.. an image of something.. that you abstract, or is it just some paint you are randomly putting on canvas... Well, sometimes I do have an image.. a landscape, in this instance.. which I abstract. I allow my brush to smear it, distort it, blur it, even create new shapes, colours.. And sometimes i just apply colors, shapes, brush strokes randomly.. For me, it doesn't matter. I like the vagueness.. I love the mysteriousness..I love the moods just colours put randomly evoke.. I love creating and playing in a world all my own.. which whoever wants to visit and enter into is welcome.. just don't give me homilies about painting a tree like a tree, or the sea like the sea.. and so on.. I don't give a damn about anybody else's conventions and ways of thinking and looking.. LOL

ALONE

Alone we come into this world of ours

Thrusting greedy mouths

To our mother’s breast

From then it begins

Our journey to death –

Lying human touch telling us tales

Of love belonging longing togetherness

But soon we learn the knowledge of Life

That it is alone that we come

Alone we must remain

And alone that we must depart –

And the path is strewn

With hard stones

That we stub our toes on

Stumble and fall down on

Bruise and cut ourselves on

Find the strength

To pick ourselves up

And walk on

Into the yawning jaws of

Of the eternal night yon –

And even the faint footprints

That we leave behind

On the broken footpaths

Along some dusty streets of life

Are trampled upon by callous feet

Unknowing Uncaring

Each heading for the same destiny –

Obliterating and disappearing into Nothing

Fading into futile Oblivion –

Leaving behind only a sigh

In the wind

Whose language no one knows

Except the clouds the skies the trees

Who to themselves keep the secret

The secret story of our unknown journey

From life to death –

And no one can tell – will tell

That Alone we had come

Alone we had lived

And alone we had departed

From this world of ours

-by Rita Putatunda

One More For You

Forever --- Apart

A stranger you are

Yet nearer to me

Than any love

I wonder

With wondering heart

What can I give to you

And what in turn

Can you offer me

When you without any question

Spoken on your lips

And I a thousand questions

Hidden in my heart

Stand facing each other

Apart

I know

With the knowledge

Of the heart

Whatever I can give to you

And what you proffer me

With both arms outstretched

Will be

Less than it should be

If I offer you a song

A song loses its meaning

With time falls silent

If you offer me a flower

Flowers fade and wither

With time crumple

Into dust

So then with a stone heart you say to me

So then dear let us not let

The ripping claws of

Reality

Tear and shred

The gossamer wings of

Illusion

Let us instead keep

Our dreams

Alive --- Apart

So then with a heart bereft of even tears I say to you

So then love when you hear a song

A song that sings my name

Let the melody linger

On your lips

Forever

And when I see a wayside flower

Blooming in the dust

Which with burst of colour

Brings to mind your name

I will hold it in my eyes

Forever

So then love if that must be so

Let us walk

On our different paths

Forever ---  Apart

-by Rita Putatunda

Colouring Me Sensuous

Vanilla sky ice Thick Chocolate Sauce

Melting my lips Staggeringly sinuous fluid grace

Crushed Purple Grape Grenache Mocha Almond Crumble

Fumble my buds Scuffle muffle Muddled Mudpie

Thrashing Slavering whipped cream froth

Stripped Black Currant Crush Tender Coconut Slush

Poured on Crunchy Cashew Nut Mush

Melting on Kishmish Kisses tickling my lips

Tantalizing Peach Moon sliced into juicy halves

Pulsing wild Pink Strawberry mishmash

Positioning ourselves on a far star

Squashed Banana Mashed mango pulp

Tormenting my tongue with pureed pulsations

Bitter Butter Scotch Caressing Ripe Papaya Slice

Sliding down my gullet Leapfrogging astride

The hot red Sun – Gushingly Lushingly Lusciously

Licking the melting lollipop..slop..plop..dollop

Rum’n’Raisin juice runnin’ on my chin

Circulatingly circumnavigatingly circumferencingly

Delicately dessicated diced Iced Pineapple Fizz

Dribbling cold on Flaming Sunset Passion Fruit Puddle

Distended Dappled Apricot Blob Dissolving my mouth

Tart Orange Splash Lemon’n’Lime Dribble

Spattering my throat Splattering my skin

Patchwork passions Colouring me Sensuous

-by Rita Putatunda

Boys don’t cry, Girls do cry

 “No!” – He said.

The wail in his voice

Hidden.

The tears in his eyes

Unshed.

Boys don’t cry.

“Why?” – She whipped.

The hard in her voice

Cutting.

The whiplash in her eyes

Lashing.

Girls always cry.

The train waited

With bated breath.

She stood strong

On the platform.

He sat small

In the coach.

Porters in rEd

Pouring wItH SWeaT

PaSsEnGeRs hurrying

Lugging tHEir bAGgage

CHilDren wAIling

VeNDORS sHOUting

SeLLinG tHEiR wARe

PouRING hOT tEA

PaSSinG MaGazines AnD eATS

WrAPPed in oLD nEWSpaPERs.

The guard blows his whistle.

About to wave his

Green flag.

Just time for

A last Good-Bye.

She knew she had

To say

Something.

He thought he heard

Her say

Something.

They looked at each other.

Eyes touching.

Not

Trusting.

The guard blew

His final

Whistle.

The things they

Had to say

Were left unsaid.

He sat small

In his coach.

She stood forlorn

On the platform.

The train clacked sluggishly

Out of the station.

-by Rita Putatunda