Please turn to Chapter Tomorrow; Page Thursday

A Page

Like clay under a tide

that's drawn it's breath,

I lie in drought.

Silence has begun to scream,

allying herself with time,

the following page has become an opiate,

dulling what's now.

Pages have turned,

and I flee the one I'm on.

My words last only now,

and yet abstinence keeps me silent.

Another page has turned.

blank.

Only awkward footprints reveal my presence,

each a memorial to the betrayal of youth

for the conclusion.

What I've left is not worthy,

I've lulled in an opiate a chapter away,

waiting for lustre and reverie.

I've held on for a fate,

written out in pages turned.

With timeless strength the tide has exhaled,

It's lustre graces my pages,

It's glow hold no answers,

only places were sentences used to be.

I seek the horizon,

and the answers that must lie there.

But it's pages past,

written in time,

that holds what I seek.

I think sometimes we tend to wait our lives away. It's a cliché sort of statement, but I feel nonetheless still poignant. How often do we perceive an answer to reside in some chapter in the future, when at times our shuffling footprints soil what's here and now.

©2010 Sean Tuckey

Retro Appeal

I'd love to hear the stories behind this badge.

There's just something appealing about something vintage.

This came from a caravan in the area named honey bee; it was old, about to collapse but proudly told everyone it was a zephyr.

©2010 Sean Tuckey

No. 1

So it's my first post.

This seems a strange thing to embark on. Why write? Why show people? And yet why not? Since so long ago I've had a very fond relationship with words. I love the art of a sentence. I love art. Art happens when things are shaped around an expression. And so I guess this blog is an attempt to share my ideas, my attempts at shaping words around my expressions however far ranging they may be.

And so welcome to the black swan bulletin. The name has meaning as so many things do, but like so many other things it also has mystery. It's not something that is going to be spelt out in letters further down this post.

It's silent, and it's text. It's amazing how mystery prompts seeking, and how much authority silence can lend to something.

I can see this blog becoming somewhat of a metaphorical canyon. On one side lies something I'm not sure I wholly grasp, or understand. My fascination with that side is strong and so I'll call it art or even words. Opposite lies a less mysterious place, it's called life, and it encompasses exactly what I'm doing now, or what I have been doing, or even what I think will happen. This blog then would be a precarious place somewhere in between: a swing of sorts, sometimes linking both sides, and other times exploring what happens on the edges of one side.

Having said all of that I could murder a cup of tea, and so that is exactly what I'll do.

©2010 Sean Tuckey