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by Laura Richardson |
 The Evening Sky Along the sill some window jars throw shadows cast down by the stars. Celestial spheres from distant fars reveal a passing moonlit Mars. Two figures drawn close by the night stand, outlined by the streetlamp's light, to search beyond, per chance to sight, streamed cross the sky, stars taken flight, And reaching out to further spy, star gazers seek the Gemini, while lovers cuddle, coo and sigh, another comet hurdles by... What dream-like wonders paint the sky for hearts grown close with years gone by! Poem by Laura Richardson Original Oil, "Caribbean Moonlight" painted from life, "en plein air" by Sir Roland Richardson |
 Without Complaint The clouds pass by without complaint. The sun does rise without restraint. The sea resigns, then flows back in. The flora bloom as days begin. We earn from these eternal things, a simple peace that nature brings, beyond all thought and strategy, a quiet, endless, mystery. Painting by Roland Richardson "First Blooms, Baie Longue, 2008" an original "plein air" oil on canvas by Roland Richardson |
 "Clouds over Mullet Bay" 2008 Plein air oil by Sir Roland Richardson St. Martin, French West Indies <><><> God's Daily Exercise One day I was out lying under a tree, When the good Lord in truth did appear to me. He said, "Man, do you see how I twirl and spin? That's to make your night end and a new day begin!" to make the waves drum their sweet tintamare." He went on to show how He bends and He sways to send along breezes on warm summer days. as a rainbow is drawn with His delicate eye, and the colors illuminate all His pure light that channel His vision and constant insight. and the purple clouds did gently roll over me. I watched, like a lantern, the moon rise in His sky and followed the wee tumbling circus of fireflies. and think what I'd missed if I'd quietly dozed. I'd wander and wonder for all the years come, what I learned on that day, and can share with someone. The full moon smiled down, very round and bright white There, while I gazed, came His wondrous show, when arched clear cross the sky, glowed a magic moon-bow! December 15, 2008 <><><>  "Moonlight, St. Martin" Plein Air Oil by Sir Roland Richardson |
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infinite rainbow of the universe, boundless flavors of the world, magical swirl of a beautiful Carousel, A fountain of fantasy and love, for our spirits held in the hands of strangers who smile, and giggle with each other, Ice Cream. <><><> By Laura Richardson For Armando Sept. 29, 2008 |
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Armando, Happiest birthday wishes to an amazing man. This year will be the best of all combined. Look how much you learned last year! You got a chance to grow much smarter. The year ahead will offer even more, as you focus on good, and giving from your heart. Your cup will always runneth over. Thank you for all the sweet and wonderful things you do. I hope you like the beginning of Carousel's poem. Love, Laura |
 "Heineken Regatta 2008" by Roland Richardson Moving On All the news is but a muse for minds that wander from the blues. All the shopping without stopping; bills piled high while checkbooks sigh. Wine is pouring, talks are boring. Couples meet to then retreat. Time is streaming, hearts are dreaming, searching for a brand new beat. Trim the sails, we’re moving on; the wind will set us far beyond. Our journeys lead to meet our needs, and all that’s done has just begun the new, that’s not just blue. by Laura Richardson |
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St. Martin-St. Maarten's National Anthem Where over the world, say where You find an Island there So lovely small with nations free With people French and Dutch Though talking English much As Thee Saint Martin in the sea. O sweet Saint Martin Land So bright by beach and strand With sailors on the sea And harbors free. Where the chains of mountains green Variously in sunlight sheen O I Love Thy Paradise Nature beauty fairly nice. How pretty between all green Flamboyant beaming gleam Of flowers red by sunlight set Thy cows and sheep and goats In meadows or on roads Thy donkies keen can't I forget. Sint Martin I like thy name In which Columbus' fame And memories of old are closed For me a great delight Thy Southern cross the night May God the Lord protect thy coast. O sweet Saint Martin Land So bright by beach and strand With sailors on the sea And harbors free. Where the chains of mountains green Variously in sunlight sheen O I Love Thy Paradise Nature beauty fairly nice. Courtesy of Rotary International St. Martin-St. Maarten <><><>  "Flamboyant, View of the Sea" by Roland Richardson |
 Self Portrait by Roland Richardson <><><> Happy Birthday, May 18th! For Roland… the jasmine vine you planted that cascades now as a tree, the rocking chair you brought me, that rocks alongside yours, the keys we share to everything, unlocking all our doors, my evenings' mystic journeys safely traveled close by you, our budding blossom…joy to all…sweet, gentle Radiance, whose brilliant light and constant laugh reminds me of our dance, our tribe of seven, fed and schooled, grown up to just us 3, our world of living color, whose magic fills our walls, that daily drives our work and play, as inspiration calls. when life revealed another chance at love for you and me. Though cliché in its phrasing, worn thin by fashion's use, there's still no better way to state the rare yet simple truth. I love you, dear and deepest friend, as many years before, and cherish all these treasures that we'll share forevermore. Poem by Laura Richardson |
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The Apparition  There He stood before me in a worn and ragged suit. His eyes were sad, His hair was long, His presence all but mute. I asked if I could help Him; was He searching for someone? He looked at me, responding He was God’s begotten Son. And in my heart I felt the truth without a word spoken. He’d come that day to visit me, throughout His long travails, remembering His promise that His Love for me prevails. I saw a worn and ragged suit and feared He was not sane, but in my heart I knew I was the poorer, more profane. I felt myself a hypocrite To call myself Christian, while cloaking this encounter with my shallow skepticism. His gentle eyes forgave me as He turned and walked away, and whispered kindly “Peace to you. Remember Me this day.” I wished I’d offered bread and wine, and fed Him with my prayer. I wished I’d offered a warm bath, new clothes, and combed His hair. ”A moment longer, please my Lord, to gather my children, so they can hear Your blessings, while You wash away my sins.” Instead I stood there speechless as my eyes swelled full with tears, then blinked to clear my vision, as He vanished in thin air. Painting by Roland Richardson - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Poem by Laura Richardson |
 CARIBBEAN CORNUCOPIA Pass through the portal of passion, poured into sweet paradise. Taste in Caribbean fashion, sugar-filled sun-dipped delights! Fanciful ornaments  sway merrily on trees.
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- - -Red pomegranates dance to the breeze.. Yellow passion fruits drop in the shade, for morningside gathering when Maracuja is made. Tall island cane harvests boil down to molasses, while brown sugar ferments to put rum in our glasses. Guava and Belle Apples stewed gold in a pot, dressed over cold ice cream, best served when still hot! Mangoes, bananas, star apples, papaya, sweet delectables soak, bottled, to flavor run's fire. The twittering and buzzing of birds and the bees, busily gathering to sow tiny seeds, as tropical pleasures birth in the sun, the flowers of life have again just begun. <><><> Paintings by Roland Richardson Poem by Laura Richardson |
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His young wife full with child soon
repeats The morning sun rises, soon stars light
the night. |
 There once was a big, hungry shark who hunted his food in the dark. If he had his own way, he would search in the day but his prey would hide under the rocks. It has been said so large were his teeth, that their points were as huge as the pyramids peaks, and his hunger just grew as his stomach pursued its raven of sea life beneath. And so the story unfolds that his brain was as small as a toad's, for though he was full, he still raged like a bull while attempting to eat the whole globe! Believe it or not, he accomplished that. His belly was stretched beyond FAT. He groaned in despair that his greed had so far exceeded his need. The world made him ache, full of land, sky and lakes that, good fortune to all, He went SPLAT and the world was much better for that. The Beginning. <><><> "Waves," Painting by Roland Richardson Poem by Laura Richardson |
 Back Street, Philipsburg An Original Oil, painted "en plein air" by Roland Richardson Woman Under a Tree Imagine making a living under a tree, trading her fruit for passers' money. Stacking her mangoes, ripening fast by the sun, hoping they're sold by the time the day's done. Cars slow, then they turn, to just drive away, when throughout that long moment she stands still to pray.  Celira original oil by Roland Richardson Pumpkins, papayas and plantains remain, while strangers decide on her loss or her gain. I did that one morning, when passing her by, she waited with patience then let out a sigh. The next time I see her, I'll buy that pumpkin. Though I'm short on a recipe, she'll know how to begin. Poem by Laura Richardson |
 "Back Street Phillipsburg" 35" x 51" Original Plein Air Oil on Canvas Genealogy Great Grandfather Lake had skin gold like the Gods, making his children like little seedpods. when the count was all told, with brown-colored women once gathered and sold. They prospered a race, of Caribes and Africans, whose magical trace left then like Noah's girls, multiplied, blessed by the dove. The other birthed ten, To hard-working, intelligent Caribbean men. Gaston, grand architect, had a love for their land that they'd never neglect. whom I met just one week, I remember in reverance with this story I speak. <><><> |
 "Mangoes 123" Giclee on Canvas Sweet Seduction born from summer's breast, reaching down like rainbow beads bearing heaven's best. their pungent, rare perfume, cords of life, umbilically grow long beneath green plumes. Eve as Adam falls. Young boys with buckets scramble uninvited top stone walls. red nipples ripe to flow, they taunt, hungry hearts await… mouth-watering mangoes! <><><> Poem by Laura Richardson |
 "Red Umbrella, Marigot" Plein Air Oil by Roland Richardson 2004 Family Tree Old markings on a sprawling tree declare love's ageless mystery. Young hearts joined in frivolity carve deep their hope, "Remember me." his birthday gift hung from the tree. Then, swinging high, his daughter's glee, returns his wish, "Remember me." the sunny warmth that bathes the tree, with Mother's morning melody, sweet harmony, "Remember me." on checkered cloth besides the tree. As babies nap, they jokingly recall their youth, "Remember me." in dappled shade beneath the tree, while Grandma calls him gingerly, her gentle prayer, "Remember me." Palettes mixed with reverie, An artist's soulful effort paints A portrait of this tree, steadily, in witness to their history Of love and play and family, Forevermore, "Remember me." <><><> Painting by Roland Richardson, www.rolandrichardson.com |
"Marigot Courtyard Garden" Original "Plein Air" Oil on Canvas Marigot Courtyard Garden rode centuries ago. Now golden chalice fill their cups with morning's early glow rings line the stone-laid walls, built by an ancient garrison to secure their tropic stalls. The King's last fort, his island gem, links Louis with his past, while lineage was woven through their multi-layer caste.  "Marigot Inner Courtyard Garden" Madame cleans fresh fish for lunch, sauce simmers on the fire. Her gentlemen will gather for her gift, then soon retire. Of souls who passed before, While many quiet twilights shadows dance beneath closed doors… <><><>  Painting by Roland Richardson; Poem and Photos by Laura Richardson "Marigot Courtyard Garden" #6 rue de la Republique, Marigot, St. Martin Present home to Roland Richardson Gallery, this courtyard dates back to the late 1700's when Roland's ancestor, knighted Sieur de Durat, was commissioned by Louis XVI to build Fort Louis on his French West Indian territory, St. Martin. All the stone masonry for this ancient garrison still stands in the gallery courtyard. The ill-fated king was beheaded soon after at the start of the French revolution, and Roland's ancestors were destined never to return to their homeland in France. Roland's father, Louis Richardson, at 83 years old, has enjoyed his lunch in this garden, daily for over fifty years, prepared by his lovely wife, Cynthie. |
 "Waiting For Radiance" Original oil on Canvas by Roland Richardson December 1998 FULL CIRCLE Between life and death, Conscious but driven By unconscious breath, As a spirit takes form, A soul just embodied Prepares to be born. Archive untold years, All are rekindled by newborns' first tears. Delivered from harm, The old is reborn In a new mother's arms. Billions of stars, a purpose reenters a portal ajar. The commune's rebirth, Pledged to restore And protect Mother Earth. Only love bares a trace, while hearts joined as one Reunite their embrace, *** In loving memory of his mother, Grace Hirsh July 28, 1918 - July 16, 2005 *** Original oil on Canvas by Roland Richardson Dated December, 1998 Portrait of Laura and Radiance Richardson two weeks before birth. *** enlightened research and teachings on reincarnation. Suggested books: "Only Love is Real" and "Many Lives, Many Masters" " by Dr. Brian Weiss "Everyone is Psychic" by Elizabeth Fuller *** Poem by Laura Richardson, July 2005 |
 "Twilight Patterns on Baie Longue" Original oil on board, © Roland Richardson 2004. "ETERNITY" sway dash delay recede lose retrieve weak bold meek betray sew fray regret remind forget retreat bitter sweet night dawn twilight tear knit y <><><> |
 Sweet Saint Martin When your spirit is low and you're hanging on thread, When you yearn for a long beach or a cool, turned down bed, and return to oneself, When your partner is calling for time put on a shelf, of a glimpse of Nirvana, Come, come if you can, Love our sweet Saint Martin! <><><> "Seagrape Trees, Grand Case" plein air oil painting by Roland Richardson |
 Home Sweet Créole Home This little house's splendor speaks many years of love. Its life is but a stream of lives all nurtured from above. White gingerbread and fancy blocks That dance amidst the light throw shadowed patterns of her charm to everyone's delight. With memories of small horses rocking playfully young ones, and mothers cooking dinners long before the set of sun. Each portal brings another breeze where elsewhere air stands still, and curtains whisper peacefully against her windowsill. Tamarind trees in fields of grass, sheep grazing make her fence. Scattered seeds born randomly, roots branching ever since. This house holds firm historic soil Whose land flowed to the sea, When natural ponds brought life for food And fed necessity. Her many Créole shutters protect through reckless rains, Then open wide to touch the sun, past turbulence, through change. <><><> Poem by Laura Richardson "The Artist's Home" watercolor by Roland Richardson |
 Red Umbrella Look close my love as you behold the patterns of the day unfold. A simple purpose underlies the fleeting journey of our lives. The blossoms beacon just one day, and spiders spin without delay. The birds repeat amidst the leaves their unique chants and melodies. As rain spills forth from swollen skies in sync an earthborn seed replies. What better reason for the trees to stretch their limbs for all of these? <><><> Poem by Laura Richardson Red Umbrella giclee on paper by Roland Richardson |
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