William Lawrence

Biography

All-Around Artist. I like to write poetry, paint, draw, sketch, write short stories, and write my own instrumental music. I have a strong connection to nature and am always getting inspired and interested by everything around me. I am one to notice the small things. Fish, African Mammals, Elephants, Rhinoceros, Birds, and Dinosaurs are very intriguing to me and I love to see and learn about them. They inspire my writing quite a bit. I am Schizophrenic and art for me, is not only an escape but a way to put into visuals, sounds, music, and poetry how I am feeling or what I am experiencing. I call it Surrealism of the Mind. So anyhow, welcome to my page, and welcome to my world.

Samples

"The Midnight Dimensions" I slide my fingers between the crack Of the translucent lava-lamp doors It morphs as my fingers press upon it Patterns ooze down my hand, it pours. I look at my hand, now covered in fractals A purple haze now shines from my fingers I peer inside, between, the two tall doors And a voice whispers to me, as it lingers. It says "Welcome Home" and I feel calm As I try hard opening them, once again But this time I repeat, what the voice told me Both sides of the door harden, and begin to bend. I push hard enough for there to be enough room So that I can at least try to squeeze in I stick my head in first, I see a dark mystic forest And a man sitting under a tree with a tin. He tells me to enter, and to push the doors Just a little bit further so I can fit So I put my hands on the bent pattern doors And slip through the doors, into the pit. I step one foot down, onto the other side And lose my footing as I fall down far As I fall down inside, this tunneling pit I see black liquid that resembles a tar. I land at the bottom, but am trapped in the tar Its like quicksand, I slowly start sinking But I try not to panic, now in up to my neck I close my eyes and begin drinking. As I take my first gulp of the gooey black tar To my surprise, it tastes quite pleasant I then sink deeper and deeper inside the pit And fall into a garden, with a Pheasant. I look over at the bird, not uttering a word I watch him as he searches for his meal He's larger than I, and doesn't mind my presence His feathers green, light yellow and a teal. His head abruptly looks up, then directly at me He fluffs up his feathers, then he smiles I smile back at the bird, still not saying a word Then he whispers, "Here, there be reptiles." I then feel the ground shake, under my feet And a head pops up from the garden The Pheasant moves in, looking at the head Then grabs it, devouring-- "My pardon." I smile at the Pheasant, and he smiles back at me I realize that we're slowly becoming friends And an hour later, we're both devouring newts Slurping them down to the tails, my new friend.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Blog entries by William Lawrence

Flying My Birds (14/04/2016)

Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/williamlawrence