Orange


 

Orange

Lethargic to say  the least

with an outlook not good

as breeze picks up

gray zips to blue.

Arrays of jack marked smiles

across the baked asphalt

the orange dinosaur trill.

Steam snarls from every valve

The significant bearing of brick yards

tales and technique

passed back on forth.

Up onboard

sat on Welsh gold

steam coal dust a shower

the aging sturdy stalwarts

repetitive rumble

the beast builds power.

Wind swept and sun bleached

the dismounted group

folk-lore explored

welling up now a man

as a child he often rowed…

Applause rings out

the day must close.

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Author: alanwhitfield80

Hello! I get about a bit so here about me first. I am a visual artist and poet who works within the context of fine art. My work is grounded in documentary, exploring the inner beauty of everyday life through various lens based media. Notions of nostalgia and social commentary are present, but from a definite northern working class perspective. Instinctively I exploring the townscapes of North Wales and the North West, often producing work that reflects the every day minutiae of life.

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