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Jim is an award winning surreal digital artist, and a
published poet, who even though he
left school at the tender age of 15 went on to pursue his love of
drawing, and writing, even
with out any formal education, and today his success is evident in
his work, and his life. |
Another Day For The Wizard
I.
A dragon, some griffins, fairies and a wizard
made their way home through a blizzard
Lost in a snow storm under the tropical sun
hours spent day dreaming; another day's done
No need for much; some food and a bed
visions of tomorrow dance in the wizards head
The dragon stands guard while the griffins creep
fairies fly around watching the wizard sleep
II.
Just before sun up the Wizard awakes
prepares his spells; makes no mistakes
Packs a bag with fruit and some snow
bread, cheese, and a nice tomato
Dawns first light brightens up the sky
the Wizard picks mushrooms that will make him high
He sits by the river washing his mushrooms clean
the morning sky is red, the field grass is green
No need for much; food and a bed
dreams dance in the Wizards head
The dragon stands guard while the griffins creep
fairies fly around watching the Wizard sleep…
III.
Climbing a mountain, with much energy
lost in a snow storm, still able to see
High as the Condors that circle above
the Wizard becomes one with nature and love
The dragon sleeps under the shade of a tree
while the griffins run wild with the fairies
Another day high in a magical place
The Wizard has mushroom juice all over his face
IV.
A dragon, some griffins, fairies and a Wizard
made their way home through a blizzard
Lost in a snow storm under the tropical sun
hours passed by; another day's done
No need for much; food and a bed
dreams dance in the Wizards head
The dragon stands guard while the griffins creep
fairies fly around watching the Wizard sleep.
The Hunters
Once while deep in The Amazon
I watched the hunters dance
with raised arms they spun in circles
chanting traditional hunting songs
Dancing to build trust in their abilities
there was no time to wallow in doubt
a small gourd cup was passed around
filled and refilled with a magical hunting potion
The potions scientific name belongs in parentheses
right behind the Indian name, chi chi doro
somewhere on the sketch pad of my colorful past
unplugged and left motionless for too long now
The fire burned through the night
the hunters danced and chanted and waved their arms
women sat and watch in anticipation of the feast to come
no one seemed to mind me being there
Dawn lights the way for the hunters
carefully making their way into the jungle
poisoned arrow waiting in leather sheaths
on the backs of the brave men who wear them
Spears and blow guns held securely
sights have been set and goals reached
the men return slowly to the village
burdened by the weight of the kill
Women prepare the feast for the tribe
while the men bathe down in the river
I sit and write about what I saw
the air is filled with the aroma of fresh meat cooking
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