Bosham Sunset
(from Clare Bowen’s painting…)
Small vessels moored idle
In tranquil waters, placid and wan,
Whilst attention is drawn
To trees and shrubs, which sidle,
Shaded by a setting sun,
Silhouetted, as if charred;
Myriad hues, reckless yet forlorn,
Descend in layers, scarred:
Lemon, bilberry and orange,
Reflecting in pallid tide, marred,
Upon tranquil Bosham to pour scorn…
Pete Ray
27th February 2021
Below are some images taken during my one visit to Bosham some years ago...
White Cabin Refuge…
(from Jenni Dennis’ painting ‘Cabane blanche, étang de l’Ayrolle’…
Wetlands crawl like fingers,
Testing the reflective shallows
Of l’Ayrolle, tentatively;
Snug cabin within foliage lingers,
Resting, its white walls sallow
Against sky’s buff bluster, provocatively…
Peace creeps like repose,
Casting a seductive power
Of healing, furtively;
Smug mind imperilled by the throes
Of turbulent clouds which glower
In sky’s flaxen cluster, assertively…
Pete Ray
25th February 2021
Fisherman At Sunset…
(from Jenni Dennis’ painting ‘Pêcheur au coucher du soleil’,
the January image from her 2021 calendar…
The fading sunlight
Exudes a permanence,
An enormity, a serenity,
A tumbling of sultry, capricious clouds
And an indulgent cacophony
Of colour to the horizon of yolk…
The fisherman, adroit,
Eclipsed by the iridescence,
On the periphery, so temporary,
As whitecaps smother his line like shrouds,
Conducts with his rod a symphony,
The sunset’s magnificence to invoke…
Pete Ray
23rd February 2021
Valley Road, Earlswood: Then & Now…
 |
| THEN... |
The engine house dominating
The rear of the scene is testament to industry
And a working canal, supplied
By Earlswood’s Engine Pool off Valley Road.
A sloping, grassy wall splits the narrow lane,
Which diverges and converges, curiously,
The three silhouetted figures clearly demonstrating
The height and angle to the pool from the road,
With trees and fields proliferating aside…
The engine house dominating
The rear of the scene is a landmark, listed
And the canal is now for leisure use
Nearby, their towpaths trodden well.
The splitting wall’s grassy slope remains,
Whilst vehicles and walkers vie, perilously.
The myriad signs and yellow lines warn, frustrating,
Whether progression or regression, time will tell,
As lavish homes far right lounge, exuding pride…
 |
| NOW... |
Pete Ray
15th February 2021
The old and new images are remarkably similar.
The Earlswood reservoirs were man-made and constructed in the 1820s, the workforce including prisoners from the Napoleonic wars.
The River Blythe feeds the three pools: the Engine Pool, the Windmill Pool and Terry’s Pool, my favourite…
The Reservoir Hotel, Earlswood…
THEN...
Lanes stripped of tarmac
And their broken white lines;
No limiting junctions
Or lollipop shaped signs…
Inn stripped of adverts
And its bland lack of charm:
Merely a functional hostelry,
Near a neighbourhood farm…
Earlswood stripped of vehicles
And pollution and noise:
Horses, carts and simplicity
Mourn its past rural poise…
Pete Ray
 |
| NOW... |
Remarkable image of the Reservoir Hotel, carts, a bicycle and a total absence of traffic, houses and scurrying people.
The Delivery Of A Shower-Screen…
(12th February 2021)
A driver turned up at the house at 8.35 am with no prior phone call that he was on his way, whilst I was at the local shop, collecting milk and a newspaper. We have a gravel drive that leads directly to a garage where the new shower-screen was to be stored.
I hurried forth when I saw the guy unloading a pallet, some 8 feet high from a Palletways truck. The driver said that he would be unable to get the pallet over the gravel and subsequently he left it at the edge of the drive.
He told me that I’d need a forklift truck to move the monstrosity… Really? It was below freezing at that time but the bloke asked for his delivery note to be signed, which simply had to done, noting that the item had remained unchecked.
The whole package was covered in a layer of black plastic so we couldn’t even get at the actual cardboard packaging of the order to check that the contents were in good order, at which point the driver climbed into his cab and drove away…
Once we had removed the plastic, we then had the nigh impossible job of manoeuvring the box from the base pallet by ourselves. It was incredibly heavy and I am surprised that we managed it, for I had to wrap my arms around the extricated 8 foot high box like I was learning to dance with an obese basketball player.
Somehow, I managed to manoeuvre the object inside the garage and we laid it down to check the contents, after first warming up with hot coffee. The pallets, for there wasn’t just one, formed a frame reminiscent of a ballista, a Roman bolt thrower, which sits on the drive now, like we are preparing to sling missiles at the Royal Mail sorting office in Shirley until they deliver our mail again…
The information sent had stated that the delivery could be checked from kerbside but we didn’t have the opportunity to do so because the driver left immediately. It might have been an act of consideration on his part if he had waited or even helped us to remove the black plastic covering so that we could at least check the box.
Delivering something so unmanageable with such casual ignorance to one pensioner who has rheumatoid arthritis and another who has a sore arm, having received a Covid vaccination the day before, was not acceptable on a February morning which boasted of minus temperatures…
Get a fork-lift truck, indeed…
Face-masks…
I used to glance aghast
At tourists wearing masks
In Dubrovnik, Rome, or France;
I used to be cynical
About them and my physical
Response bordered on sarcasm and annoyance.
I wear a mask now, as advised
For virus protection
In shops, in queues, or at a surgery;
I was once critical
About masks but that satirical
Attitude is now one of survival and urgency…
Pete Ray
9th February 2021
Reflective, Reclusive, Pensive…
(from Jennifer Dennis’ painting…)
This painting ‘Old Fishing Boat’, won a gold medal for watercolour at the 2015 annual exhibition at Cazouls-lès-Béziers, France.
I felt that the colour of the ageing vessel seemed a bright spot in the misty surroundings, paling the other boats into insignificance.
In the current ‘lockdown’ times, the vessel, its colour and indeed its very existence made me think of having something for the troubled mind to focus upon, despite the sad and distressing undercurrents of the life we are living in…
Reflective, Reclusive, Pensive…
Reflective
Vessel exudes colour
In the foreground.
Somnolent, serene, untidily
Omnipotent and
Retrospective…
Reclusive
Boats lurk in mists
In the background.
Irrelevant, mundane, nearly
Inconsequent and
Introspective…
Pensive
Thoughts, doleful, eased
In the troubled mind.
Potent, arcane, uncannily
Content and
Intuitive…
Pete Ray
9th February 2021
Storm Clouds Lepe…
(from Jennifer Dennis’ painting…)
Hurled clouds of grey and dun-stain
Rush across an acrid sky;
Whirled, rising silhouetted gulls strain,
Hushed across the grim seascape awry…
Swirled wisps of white water lift,
Crushed upon rocks in disarray;
Curled waves across a bleak shoreline drift,
Pushed on by fuming gales astray…
Unfurled squalls of alabaster fall,
Lush upon a heedless ocean;
Twirled surf spirals at storm’s frantic call,
Flushed and thrown by the raging commotion…
Pete Ray
8th February 2021
I’ve never visited Lepe in Hampshire, near Southampton but the dramatic painting by Jennifer Dennis has captured a fine moment…
Verona: The House of Pain
Severe, it rose from the pink limestone footpath:
A shuttered door, plain,
Gruesome with age, neglected, stained
And graffiti sprayed across its stern, dull facade;
Dark, hunched over that unwelcoming portico,
A decorated arch enthralled.
She glowered, her visage appalled
And the toothless hag spat
At passers-by her spiteful tirade…
Pete Ray
A strange building near the Piazza Erbe in Verona.
One evening, the gateway and especially the decorative arch were both quite grim and the hag’s face on the right side drew my attention…
