Magpie Me

MAGPIE ME

A thieving magpie.

Say it in French, it sounds better.

Une pie voleuse.

There’s one in the garden;

I’ve seen it strut over to a ball of bird food,

Pick it up and swoop away with it.

That’s what I am now.

I swoop down, collect and squirrel away

(a mixed metaphor – I collect them too)

all sorts of bits and pieces like a bird for a nest.

But with me it’s pictures: collages.

Nothing’s safe: rubber washers, wine corks,

tissue paper from chocolate boxes, paper doilies,

corrugated cardboard, beads, feathers, sticks,

dried leaves, wrapping paper, scraps of cloth …

The treasure trove grows daily.

As I fill my drawers and boxes, my head fills too  

with possibilities for paintings:

mediums, colours, effects, styles,

focal points, flowing lines,

geometric shapes, dripping paint …

So here I lie in bed, unable to sleep,

picking over my collection

like a magpie.

Written in the small hours of 19^th February 2011