Tuesday, June 28, 2011

the sketch below is charcoaled in ....

Inside a window, embers glow
A heart beats to the rhythm tears
Trapped and caged a lioness dies
From voices that she failed to hear
Back and forth she'll pace the floor
Awaits that moment etched in fate
To dread this silent cage she'll roar
Drowning out that one mistake
A key that locked the open doors
That led to paths her life will take.
Oh! Could there be something more?
Could she'd 've been someone great?
Look at her and listen close,
To eyes who stare through graying curls
And you will see how free she danced
When she was but a little girl.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Morning Sketch "P-40E New Zealand Airforce" 18x24 blocked in charcoal on stonehenge paper, click for larger image

A line
Laid with intention
Charcoaled in
Shadow and white
A trick of the light
A slight of hand
We are not artists
We are magicians
and Liars ....

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Morning sketch 11x14  06232011 Carcoal on Paper by Terrence L Cope

The moon cast shadows
Streetlights glow softly
Boats on the river
Are silhouettes mostly
Sounds of the City
Float off in the Distance
Music familiar
the echoes of Rampart
And stars intermingle
With the lights of the buildings
And that faint little twinkle
In the soul of your eyes.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

This mornings sketch 06/21/2011 11x14 charcoal on paper by Terrence L Cope

You know.
Love you ....
but sometimes
I feel
Type 2
Float Plane
allied code name
Rufe ....
and sometime

Monday, June 20, 2011

Morning sketch 6/19/2011 11x14 Pencil, Pastel on Paper by Terrence L Cope (click for larger image)

You have to understand,
it's been a while,
too long
The pictures I have when my eyes close are so real
The smell of your hair, sound of your voice,
my heart, my soul, reaches out to feel
Oh, ever so smooth was that touch,
that gentle soft way the satin played
While stars they chase the sun away
And you are so many miles away,
Until I close my eyes......

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Morning Sketch 11x14 by Terrence L Cope 06/18/2011

A Masterpiece.
This breath of art
  All clowned up
red and black hair,
drapes like candle wax, 
makeup and tattoo sleeve
... beautiful like a painting,
attitude to hide your age,
very young, but not so much.
They call you whore and it hurts.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

.....from the sketch book. 11x14 pencil on paper, terrence l cope

Warm and wet
A ride
On the serpant 
Across the Badlands
My body
Rest it's soul
Lies where she left it...

june 15th, 2011 a page from my sketch, pen and ink by Terrence L Cope
click for larger image

The hours sat in a small glass at the end of the bar
No ice, neat, sipped slowly, ....... twist of lime
Seconds tick away, reflection in a mirror behind the bottles
Waiting to see her....one more time.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Sketchbook 06-13-11 Pencil on Paper by Terrence L Cope

I reach out to touch the sun, flying so close
To hide in its light at the wake of the dawn
Withdrawn, waiting, watching from shadows,
Softened Colors that pass in revue ,
Pomp processions for this day
In its infinite depth of prying stars, dark and distant
A small prick of light, in itself, cast no warmth
A distant flames flicker, lights from the windows
Exists only to dance on flesh that’s wet and glistens
In amber sweat which wets hot flesh, cooling,
Defining, rising skin touching skin, shallow breathing,
Seaside breakfast, mimosas and the soft splash of tides
Rising, echoing the wings of the damsel fly 
Echoing the death of night, softly and hidden 
Souls rise up to touch the vanquished moon,
Rise to catch the last star, falling,
Rising up then slowly they die
To be wash away in violet skies
And the breeze finally arrives, teasing the reeds,
Lifting up the wings of the hunter, sea birds
Stir of froth from the crashing waves
Stirring the salty air,
Letting  fly your darken hair,
Defined in this morning light,
A slight stir of sand,
Erasing our impressions,
Removing all that passes,
Denying our existence.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

High atop battleship hill the children stand all quiet and still
They touch so lightly, gentle spirits, sacrificed, adrift within the sun, alone
In trenches dug in dirt and clay these spirits go about their way
Apparitions that appear so plain, like shadows on a cloudy day
Are glimpsed within peripherals, in windblown grass, in history books
In some class in which I paid no attention with the lone exception
Of one spoken word, a wandering thought of dark haired girls to which I feared to talk.
And pay no mind to old men, long   decayed; their doctrines that had ruled the day
Who wrote their names on fields of corn, sunken roads and shallow graves?
There’s a peace upon the sunny ground now, eclipsed by passing pillowed clouds
Their fleet existence can be seen upon our sins as they go floating on the wind
They show the way but do not stay for long on these stones of white
But are to only read forgotten names and stroll quietly about their way
For clouds are not allowed to stay within the ghostly stills, high atop Battleship hill.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Moments in gold,
To look back and
think of where I could go
what I could do .......
things I could have  ......
if I could cash in .......
those golden moments I had
with you!

Sunday, June 5, 2011

 "Untitled Sketch" 11x14 Pen and Prisma Marker from sketchbook: 060411 by T L Cope 
Pen and Prisma Markers- Todays sketch, 060311 by TL Cope

Sunday, Sunday I deny ...... 
You are but beginnings end
I live my lie in solitude
and live my truth in sin
I live my hopes in lonliness
Sheltered from within.
Hear me now the fleeting sound
The tattered sheets, the barren ground
An empty heart, it's beating pounds
Dark rhythms of the souless.
Whispered under labored breath
An attempt at my forgiveness.
Bone and flesh, it walks a path
And dreams of life eternal ......