Wee Hours

Starry Night Drawing by Van Gogh

Wee Hours

Time supposedly
Stop watched, than not
In actuality

Velvety languor and
Shimmering black sheen
Of star sprawled night

Black siren stealthily
Tiptoeing unhurriedly
Out, with own agenda

Nature’s garden variety
Symphony put to bed
For a spell, spelled

Then a slow awakening
Glimmerings of life’s
New beginnings

Cycle of life and death
Petit mort, life’s rebirth
Daily miracle in the making


One Comment for: “Wee Hours”

  1. You forever paint with words Bina. Nice.

    Picasso Exibit AGO


    Pursuant to the inner belief that art is an expression,
    Look at the paint trails and see the truth on canvas,
    Now cubists and abstracts might confuse most,
    But when the colours explode in your made up face
    Make up, is made up, and colours still rule opinions,
    Viewing Picasso templates seems to suck me in,
    Gasping and touching his paint strokes from back then,
    The mind wanders and wonders, was he sane at all?
    Contrary I say, contrary, for civilized he was, he was,
    His surrealism is real, his abstract perfection in lines,
    Cubes and circles, defined all his women and wars,
    Anger and love beat in oils, cooked up til done,
    Until Dora Maar, then I hit the floor, his love is mine,
    Crooked eyes and fingers fat, perfect in eyes that see,
    Bronze skulls, standing with lambs in statue, another,
    Another expression of genius at hand to brush,
    I can paint the beauty that Dali and Picasso paint
    Come sit for me, let me tell the world of our love story
    With one stroke of my brush the world will never forget!

    Carl Stoynoff
    June 24, 2012

    * I can not catch my breath for I have just viewed the diary of a madman who inspires the genius in every civilized human being….

    Submitted by Carl Stoynoff on July 7th, 2012 12:49 pm

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