Rue de Salle Sketchbook by Curtis Tappenden

Crossing

Curtis Tappenden

Crossing;
Criss-
Patterning footsteps,
Cross-
A near collision beyond intention.
We are purposeful today;
Places to go, people to meet;
Travelling concourse,
Forming tryst,
Hitting the rhythm,
Yet stepping off-beat.

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Il Pleu! The River Aulne towards Chateaulin, Brittany by Curtis Tappenden

London Park Postcard

Curtis Tappenden

(Hyde Park)

Walk in the park.
Leaves rustle up
Where I cannot go;
Squirrels chase, and are chased –
Cross pounding treads of
Joggers,
Pod-wired, buggy strollers,
Drunks,
Seekers,
Geeks,
And habitual voyeurs.

Fountains stream in a
Central space
Where trees are open for business –
The doggies have finished theirs,
Lovers are yet to come for theirs,
Children will run as forest beasts
Between stories and dreams,
And at noon
The sun will
Shine
For tourists.

Just like it does on postcards.

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(After a Text Poem by Shelley Tracey)

Curtis Tappenden

Early autumn chestnut
Flashing neon lights.
Green of summer dimming.
Memories in the dark.

10.09 Hyde Park, London

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Circus–

Curtis Tappenden

(A celebration of the Brighton Festival. Revised for the ‘Thought for the Day’ 2.05.10 BBC Radio Sussex/Surrey)

Roll-up, roll-up!
Ladies and Gentlemen;
The Greatest show on Earth
As it is in Heaven descending –
Unfurling life’s banner in festive delight, From the North to the South
And the East to the West; Parades promenade and the seabirds take
flight.
Here, the celebration launches,
Unveils a silken dance to lift –
Sharp rhythms, catch hold of this ‘city-at-sea’, Freely abandoned;
animated, adrift.
So, let the show begin:

Toe-tip-toe treading the wire,
Threading needle-eye precision,
Shuffling on, her moves rotate in pivotal gyre.
Drawing a line, she cuts through the
Circle of her audience,
Dissecting hearts beating, pounding blood, Star-bursting spectacular
canopy spreads, A tented crimson flood Which glows beneath a focussed
beam, A whirl of dust and bending light Chromatic, spectral rainbow
performs both In and out of sight – Is never out of mind; to watch the
Spin of hoops wind-up, coil tight Circumambulate the spangled ring,
Dissected left and right.
Stretching expectation, regard,
The bungee elastic acrobat
Sat in harness to rock and turn,
Contorting lithe compression spring
Suddenly snaps the air he traps in
Adrenalin delight
And free falls frame-by-frame, flickering, Slow motion, picture-making
magic lantern show, The grandmaster elect of wingless flight.
Through receding off-stage passages
Where bright gauzy colours ghost
The mesmerizing juggler stands aloof, alone Drop-catcher in reverse.
Orbital casting, mega-blasting, proudly
Displaying more balls than most!
And he sets in play, a milky way
Great Architect Of The Universe.
Then one by one he plucks them down,
Applause goes up to welcome clown
And company, zesty, chuckly, jesty japes, Comic capers stand hairs on
Napes – With a chug, chug boom, and a zip zap zoom, Flipper, flapper,
tripper trapper, whizzy vavoom.
Wink, flash nose glows, splish splash clothes grows Wet from slapstick
water games.
And now ladies and gentlemen, the ‘Finale’… TA, TA!
Drums roll and curtains sweep across the stage, To imprint fantastic
images clear upon the memory page.
Like the boyhood dream perceived,
Which is so plain to see,
We all work and toil the treadmill –
A circus life,
Where the true artistes performing this stage Are really you and me!

01.05.10

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Rising Fog, Chateaulin Sketchbook by Curtis Tappenden

Child’s Balloon

Curtis Tappenden

Aircraft slipstreams cleanly rip
Like scissors slashing a silken sheet;
As fireflies charged in an orange-ember sky Blending twilight Smokey
-blue Wrapped beneath black, woollen cloak Day’s end is very almost
broke; Except that we have come To the park In the dark, And the
colourful climbing frame Or slide, we ride Assume the changes of
Jekyll and Hyde.
The arachnic web of ropes will trap you
The monstrous jaws of a digger will snap you, And the swing has the
rhythms of a blade to chop – Severed head rolls into the sandpit,
Fantasy games must stop.
Curtains close, “it’s bedtime,”
Where snug and secure under paper moon
The fierce distortions of imagination
Are projected onto a child’s balloon.

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Junket Educators

Curtis Tappenden

We made a contemporary sculpture
out of scissors and twisty
coloured balls of paper.
We set it on the staff room desk with
other ephemera.
It was the prize exhibit; immediate, kitsch and cool, framed in the
phone-camera eye; it looked worthy of note.

'Laugh out loud'-
spontaneous and raucous,
together,
then the flippant discussion;
took joy in its cranky construction.

Junketing was followed
by silence;
A profound moment:
'think out loud' –
where deep down we knew
it was art,
for real,
and not just pretending
as so often we do,
through education.

 

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