Watch this space for news of our next exhibition
The last Moontree Exhibition
The Hayloft Gallery,
Wick Lane, Christchurch, Dorset
from July 21st until August 3rd. 2017
1st. Monday each month. 7 pm
3rd. Wednesday each month 7 pm
2nd. Wednesday each month 7 pm
From April 1st until the end of August 2016
had an outlet
in The Quayside Emporium
on Poole Quay
Paintings, Prints, Photographs
3D Pieces, Needlefelting
Go to Deborah's 3D Page for images of her recent needlefelted creations.
David's new book
"This Deep Moment"
a collection of poems and images
A4 format; 50+ pages; full-colour & monochrome images; £15 + p&p
is now available
Our last Exhibition:
"Telling Stories (again)" was at
The Glastonbury Galleries
High St. Glastonbury
from August 15th till August 31st
We were at
The Hayloft Gallery
Wick Lane, Christchurch, Dorset
from July 24th to Aug 6th.
The Boston Tea Party,
from Saturday 31st. January until Friday 27th. February
This was a slightly smaller version of "Telling Stories (again)"
We were at The Gallery Upstairs, Upton Park, Poole
from January 15th until January 26th. 2015
(Posted on National Poetry day 2014. Parts 2 & 3 added Oct. 22nd.)
In the beginning was the word.
The word was graceful and the word was strong.
The word floated in the formless void
and the darkness did not understand it.
The word spoke itself. It spoke to itself.
The darkness was not listening.
Cradled in chaos, it sang itself to sleep,
awoke and hugged itself for joy.
One thing led to another. The word
vibrated, swelled in ecstasy, begat
another word. The darkness disapproved.
Delirious with harmony, the words
whirled and spoke and sang, though only they
could hear themselves, the darkness was stone deaf.
Careening madly through the empty dark,
the words collided, danced and sparked, gave birth
to strings and clouds and spirals of new words
that coalesced, hanging in constellations,
all sparkly in the newly-spoken light.
The darkness was unimpressed. But the word
was pleased and saw that it was good.
And the word rested from its labours.
And the evening and the morning were the first day.
In the beginning, the Word imagined
a firmament. It spoke, and it was so.
The darkness retreated a little.
Later, when the song lines had spun their webs,
spidering out across the new-made earth,
mapping out the newly-spoken land,
separating sky from mountain,
singing the oceans into their places,
the Word sat back and smiled. The darkness scowled.
And the evening and the morning were the second day.
In the beginning, the Word considered
the quiet joys of a peaceful garden.
The darkness shuddered apprehensively.
So birds, newly fledged, were despatched to fly;
a raven and a dove, singing out loud
across the dry, grey, silent wilderness.
Under their song, the earth brought forth grasses,
trees yielded fruit whose seed was in itself,
and the beasts, after their kind, multiplied.
The Word saw that it was good. The darkness
withdrew behind the new moon, mortified.
“I know a place.” Said the brand-new snake,
grinning, as he practised making a noose.
“East of here a bit, four rivers, nice trees.”
So the Word sat in the humming of the garden,
quietly naming things into existence,
the raven, snake and dove for company.
“What shall we call those two-legged creatures?”
Wondered the Word. The snake smirked wordlessly.
The darkness looked down and began to plot.
And the evening and the morning were the third day.
Our wall at
The Attic Gallery
August - October 2014