A lonely man
By seashore
- 8972 reads
So much I never knew
about the lonely Salford boy
hiding behind those primitive
matchstick men
How come I was so blind
to the intricacies of your work
the idiosyncrasies of your
characters and the stories
they told against towering
industrial backdrops
How did I see only crowds
without the spaces -
the uncluttered flake-whiteness
in between the shadow-less
folk; the unpolluted un-peopled
landscapes, seascapes
betraying the emptiness of you
and perhaps hinting at your
dark secrets - like the framed
Rosetti women who kept you
company at night as your pen
controlled your deformed Coppelia
marionettes, feeding your erotic
fantasies as you worked to the
tuneless rhythm of your clock-clutter
chimes - out of time, timed out
as eventually you were; until
rediscovered by your erstwhile
teenage namesake protegee,
now considering her own mortality
and priceless inheritance, for so
long kept tissue-wrapped far
from prying eyes, whilst the Tate
Gallery's disinterested keepers
continued to hide your rich pickings
in basement storage. Time, as your
clocks would tell you, to come out,
be shown, be free - unshackle the
genius of the secretive puppet-master,
the lonely Salford man I have only just
begun to know...
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Comments
What a beautifully detailed
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this is really fascinating!
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Hi seashore, you have really
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Applause!! clap, clap!!
maisie Guess what? I'm still alive!
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Poetry and social commentary
barryj1
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I know nothing of Lowry but
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Seashore, hello. Well done
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well done. congrats on the
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Back in the late sixties the
barryj1
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An extremely well written
Overthetop1
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I caught the pre-raphelite
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I agree with all the
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I know of Lowrie through his
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Just brilliant, Coral - your
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There used to be a big Lowry
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Hi seashore. This is another
TVR
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Hi seashore. This is another
TVR
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Your words describe this man
Your words describe this man and his work beautifully.
All three of my grown up kids have lived at Salford Quays at some point during the last ten years so I've made several trips to the Lowry Gallery, seeing those paintings in a different light with each visit. From a distance they can be easily written off but close up it's obvious how much work has gone into making them masterpieces.
An interesting but tormented man who made the most of what was around him in terms of materials and subject matter. It was sad to hear what happened to his house upon his passing. A potential museum torn apart in days. It's also sad to see that large tracts of inner Manchester and Salford bear the same desolate landscapes today.
Turlough
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