Silk Road of my Life

I try to paint the silk road of my life,

Miyajima's red torii

and peonies for my father

how can I paint my mother's songs?

no clouds, this is to target beauty.

At least, include her brilliant laugh. 

I'd add in Abbeydale

if I could paint it, build up

the layers of petals like the

Potbank painters, overlaid in gold.

A swirl of Gobi should follow,

for those Edwardian Misses,

the real silk road explorers.

All China's glory leading to Kashgar's

Sunday market, Kansu street's jade sellers

All the way to Venice with

Burano's jewel houses

glass glinting, silver gondola prows

slide out from between palacios

and paintings everywhere

to steal your breath away.

if I take it further (as I always have)

then this silk road fascination

led to all my explorations,

Paris, Havana, Santorini, Vietnam,

Kyoto, Angkor Wat and the Taj Mahal

(pause for heart stopping, stunning beauty)

and to that travelling conversation

in a long ago arts centre, 

Wowed by Brian’s talk of 

Hitchhiking to Australia. 

Turn for home to Pennine moors

endless beach of Druridge bay

or Lyminge forest bluebells

for coming down through vineyards

of a red-gold evening,

hand in hand.

LMC 2 Oct 2025

WOYWW 850 Hand of Autumn, crochet.

 Hi , I’m back for our weekly bloghop care of Sarah’s Craftshed.

Here’s my art class desk first. We’re doing the Hand of Autumn in the style of Arcimboldo, and I’m loving our first project, filling the outline of my hand with leaves, fruit, acorns and a feather. We’ll gradually cover the outline with foraged bits and pieces, painting all the items as we go  

This is one of Arcimboldo’s, an Italian who lived in the 16th century. 

I’ve loved reading ‘Georgia’ a novel about Georgia O’Keeffe by Dawn Tripp and it inspired me to paint something different: My Beaujolais. 

Sorry I didn’t get far round last week. I had to search through all my mother’s photos and memories for these photos of my aunt, Chris, whose wake is this weekend in Stoke (for which we’re making a flying visit). I confess it upset me far more than I expected, and I escaped into reading. 

This one is my aunt as a girl with my Grandad and Nan Collis. It’s typical of her so it was worth finding. 

This one has Chris as a baby with my Dad, his brother, Stan and my grandparents. 

Today I finished Miss Mathilda, who will be coming to Stoke.  

Bella loves sleeping on my lap while I’m crocheting and sends you all purrs. 

 And finally:

Looking forward to this week’s Sewing Bee final. 

I’ll be at art class on Wednesday morning so I’ll be visiting later

Hugs

Lynnecrafts xx

There May Be Chocolate 3

 There May Be Chocolate

I’m still four years old, inside,

Skipping round the corner in

My yellow Japanese dress,

With kick pleats, made by Mum.

First day at school, outraged that

Writing ‘LYNNE’ in capitals was called ‘Wrong’ when my Dad had taught me. 

I can still feel, visceral, my clenched fists. 

Learning French at seven, via

TV lessons read by ‘Lyne’.

I am still that twelve- year- old,

Amazed, in Bruges, to get free chocolates

For speaking French, regardless of mistakes.

I am still that young engineer

Ready to travel  the world,

To ride a motorbike, scuba dive and fly a plane,

Whose train set was the Channel Tunnel,

Still a writer, artist, demon crocheter.

I am the woman who’s had the greatest good fortune

To fall for the kindest man in the world,

To have loyal friends, family and godkids,

A crazy cat woman who’ll have a go

At speaking a dozen languages, because

Always, somewhere, there may be chocolate.

 

LM Collis 7 Oct 2021 updated Sept 2025

My mother’s case

 Opening my mother’s case,

A search for photos of my aunt,

Pandora spills to light, no hope,

The old fractures that 

I’ve never really healed, 

though Brian does his best.

He brings me ginger 

and lemon tea with honey

And lets me escape till

Fiction smooths the memories

Just like my summers in

The Reading tree. 

LM Collis Sept 2025