I have been busy designing greetings cards, in watercolour. There are quite a few different designs, including birds, dragonflies and bees.
The ones shown in the collage image are just a few of the designs.
They are available through my Etsy shop here:
Soul Gazing
Sun, scorching the breath of the trees.
Birds basking in the kiss of the heat,
Serenading my summertime sadness.
It would be so warm if only
I could feel the pulse of you,
The heart of you.
Be the soul of you.
I see the view around me.
I see couples holding hands,
Gazing into eyes like they
Were gateways to the other.
Lips touch like hearts fluttering
In butterfly cascades.
It would be so thrilling if only
I could feel the essence of you,
The heart of you.
Be the soul of you.
What are we, but souls,
With gowns of fine flesh
And bones to hang our
Many faces on?
What is love but
Undressing our burden of robes?
Standing exposed and vulnerable.
Giving our soul in exchange
For a handful of heaven.
Angels whispering in the shadows of nightfall,
Moonlight painting sighs on solitude.
Ghosts may tell their stories of
Haunting hearts but
It would be so perfect, if only
I could feel the yearning of
Your soul,
The heart of you.
Be the soul of you.
Feel the soul of you.
Sarah Drury 2021
watercolours
Say
So much to say
To you,
But
So much I
Can’t say.
My tongue, it drips
In words as mute
As echoes
In a blizzard
Of silent
Hush hush whispers.
My mind hurts
With the constant
Cognitive constriction,
Minding my manners
And
Deluding my desires
In cloaks
Of decency.
I want the luxury
Champagne,
But the bubbles
Burst like
Insignificant dreams
Tumbling down
A heartbreak hill.
My tongue knows only
The taste of solitude,
And it is
So lonely,
Sitting in the night
With one glass only.
If only I could speak,
But I can’t.
I am a mute,
In a landscape of
Hollow hearts.
Sarah Drury 2021
There she was.
Venus as a gin.
Pink and glistening
like the elixir
of ambivalence.
That feeling you get…
when the frets
have stretched your
worried head,
and you need
an alcohol
anaesthesia.
She slipped into
my trolley.
All regal and
queenlike.
Not like the
proletariat breadloaf,
or the lower caste
regurgitated chicken roll.
She protested as
she slipped into
her carrier bag,
but I’m not paying
for elaborate horse drawn
carriages from the likes
of Tesco.
Try carrying 6 bags
of shopping on a bus,
so, I called a cab
to carry us,
my pink gin love
and I.
But you wouldn’t expect
to lose a friend
so soon
after bonding.
And manslaughter charges
don’t apply to
alcoholic beverages.
But our love lay
shattered. Crucified.
In shards of broken glass
dreams, and
pools of wanton
aspirations.
The taxi guy,
he pleaded guilty,
but I don’t like to
see people sad
and watching his regret
made me feel bad.
I want for nothing, really.
I don’t need his
sixteen pound fifty,
when he earns a pittance
and feeds a family.
Might be his gas money
for the week,
and I know from his eyes
he is sorry to his skeleton
and remorseful to
his guilty heart.
I hope the Tesco cleaners
gave my love a
regal funeral,
and there will be a lot
of merry birds
on Gallagher Retail Park
today!
Sarah Drury 2021
