10 x 14 color pencil primary, Copic markers secondary
Drew this a few months back and forgot to post here.
This was a very experimental mixed media piece.
This started out as a piece exploiting what I think is one of natures most beautiful artworks, the stripes on a tigers back and was just going to be a pinup kinda thing called "Gratuitous Stripes" but it quickly became more than that and I wrote a poem to go with it. The picture evolved to match the poem and the poem the picture. Enjoyed creating both!
This piece will be for sale at the MFF 2013 art show!
I always welcome critique. It is one of my greatest learning tools.
Pretty much my first shot at poetry! Let me know what you think of it. I may make very slight changes eventually. A followup to this poem is in the works.
I found him on the beach one eve,
a lost kitten he did seem.
Alone and forlorn he was,
just gazing out to sea.
I passed him by as I'd done the rest,
but this time I looked back.
I saw he was a soldier then,
medal and ribbons on his chest.
I went back to speak with him
to ask of his days of war.
I'll tell over dinner, he said,
if the wine is sweet and lights, dim.
Tours of duty, three he'd seen,
of heroics in battle he spoke,
comrades fallen, brothers all.
On him, nary a mark there'd been.
The light in his eyes then faded some
and a distant look did appear.
As he spoke of his fourth call,
he seemed to sense something to come.
He sat quiet now, his face wan
but finally spoke again.
Then his true self shown through,
the warrior, nay, but the man.
Ocean sunsets he did love,
and the golden leaves of Fall.
These things too do I, as well
as the solitary mournful dove.
Late it was when he walked me home
and thanked me for my time,
then kissed my cheek and turned to leave.
Never had I felt so alone.
So I called out to him
and asked where he was bound.
On the morrow, he said, I again go
to war and the battles din.
Up to him I went and said,
these last hours 'fore you leave,
spend with me, and I took his hand
and led him silently to bed.
The wee hours of morn came swift
and sated, we spoke little of import.
I asked him 'bout the ring he wore.
In reply, he made of it a gift.
I can't take, said I, this thing of gold.
'Twas Fathers and his before, he said,
so just wear it and keep it safe.
Till I return, yours it is to hold.
Sleep came, and I dreamt then
of his warm breath upon my cheek
and words whispered in my ear,
Remember me, echoed time and again.
With a warrior's stealth he moved
and rose to gathered his things.
Then disappeared into dawns first light,
the only man I've truly to loved.
I woke to the call of which we spoke
outside my window a dove did sing.
It seemed to mirror just how I felt.
In sorrow and loss, my heart broke.
I see him still, there in repose.
That memory will never fade.
Nor the thing he left there in his stead.
On his pillow, a single yellow rose.
Perhaps 'twas best he left that way,
as words would have come hard.
for somehow he knew, as did I,
there would be no other day.
The sunsets now, seem not as bright,
and Autumn leaves too pale.
To the mourning dove I still listen,
but all has faded since that night.
To have him back, I'd pay any cost,
for the kitten I had found
had filled a void none else could,
my kitten now forever lost.