Carol Peace Sculpture : I don’t make sculpture

My nails continue to grow. I buy more toothpaste. I make no sculpture.

The logistics manager has got very angry with the sculptor. The sculptor has been ignoring the logistics manager.

Pick pick, the farage kite tears soft underbelly from an upturned sheep too gorged to stand.

The preparation for the show in Cambridge is nearing completetion and my thoughts turn back to the studio and to words.

I was chatting to Judy Darley yesterday about John Terry and his poems and how I enjoyed our back and forth of writing when I was away in Barcelona.

I follow you I follow you into life. Of which given, you gave.

Oh england lost my treasured friend, please tell me.

I have never known the touch of my own child but I have heard a heartbeat. I will not hold the fragile yet feisty promise of youth.

A frozen trough. Clinging to cold flat depth brown leaves resist but yield to dry cold wind.

Poem based on a sculpture called Spring

A poem by John Terry