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Sound of dead flowers

Illustration | Ink, charcoal & acrylic paint
Summer 2021

Sound of Dead Flowers is a collection of six core illustrations which can be seperated into 3 20x20 pieces. They can then be mixed and matched to create new meaning.

Each core illustration revolves around a subject like music, balance and death. Limbs are drawn with charcoal, the flowers with acrylic paint, and other shapes and background with ink. The shapes and flowers have been carefully chosen to amplify the meaning, and poems have been written for each core piece.


The sound of dead flowers
A caress and a stab
A tremor beneath my fingertips
A rhythm I’ve felt countless times

Before long, I am lost
Cradled by the sound
Dreading the end
Ever present in the now
Forever wandering and wondering
Go to where it wraps around
Another piece to come

The sound of dead flowers
As it cocoons around me
The rhythm making my ears ring
Fear is lost
A soothing call is all there is
I am a breath


Sound vanishes, a pressure so soothing yet knowingly dangerous

Too long is a horrid death, man’s one true fear

The ringing of outside vanishes and makes place for the warmth and cold of the inside

Floating, bobbing, doing nothing but exist

A question calls out

But the answer might drown you

Eyes fall shut, all seems to stop. It’s just you now, no one can hear you

Floating, bobbing at the surface, your spine protrudes and calls for help.

They pull you out.


Was is all there
Is nice and soothing
Gentle caresses across thousands of lips
Playful fingertips
Doors go up, vanishing in a fog
Whispers left behind, no more than a
Gentle breeze
Soothing songs
Doors go down, pulling you with them
Doors are closing, pulling you away
Falling, gently and slowly, the world floats alongside you
Doves on a hat, gently picking, always together
Hallway, never ending
Long never short
Doors are opening, a light so bright, so right
Doors are closing, soothing silk wrapping around your arms
Warm. Heavy


Ringing in my ears
Out of breath
Wheezing as the lungs go tight
A fall, red is all there is
Not alone
A breath out another’s lips
Wheezing in the ears
Not my breath
Mine is
Doors closed
Where am I
Who are you
Shimmer in the darkness
Where is the light
Legs like lead
Arms like satin
Red trickle


Equilibrium, a whisper only in my head
Deep breath
Hold it
No thoughts but the task beneath my feet
No thoughts, for if they arrive I will fall

Tiptoeing across the thin sliver of land
Far beneath me is a river coursing, raging on
My shoulders ache
My fingers ache
My legs tremble
My breath hitches

I cannot grab the land so I grab myself
I stare at the river, sea of blue beneath me
I cannot control my breath

The body is righted
The pain is only a small thing
Tiptoe forward
Holding breath
No thoughts
For if they arrive
The fall will too


Prickly thorns and hyacinths
Quietly placed on top
Fog curls around many fingers
A feeling of numbness

The moon and sun flit past like a distant memory
The darkness filled with a voice
And the light with an image
Drifting through, that is all I hear and see

The air feels harsh and filled with dust
Night and day so all becomes a moaning grey
The colours were taken
How I wished they remained

The whispers of the night come again
“Don’t wish that.” They say
A cold caress that was once warm
“But how can I forget?”
On which is said to never forget, but to walk

Every step a vague memory
Looking back I can see colour
In front is none

Never forget, you say
I will not, I whisper

Prickly thorns and hyacinths
Quietly placed on top
Sun glistening on the stone
A feeling of grief