breaking the silence brooding over the laptops: a loud group of friends socializing is daring participating in life
When I was young I remember coffee shops / coffee houses as lively places I would frequent to hear live music and hang out with my friends. We would talk and laugh, people watch and play games. Nowadays it seems like they are remote offices and study halls for everyone with a laptop, so it pleases me when I see a group of people daring to enjoy themselves instead of just staring at a screen. What can I say, I was born in the 70s. . . . . Thanks for reading!
Diana camera double exposure | Medium format film | photo by author
Lacking gills, I am of the air Lacking wings, I do my breathing with my feet on solid ground
I breathe easier when I am carrying less weight; the extra weight I shift to the airy ether of the Everlasting Arms, when I can
Always I live in an embrace sometimes it is four walls concrete and exhaust visited by bursts of wings and water, where I pretend but am not much braver than the sandpipers dashing quickly away from the danger of the rising tide
Sometimes I shift to leaves and bark stone and earth high as those with wings or low as the murk where gills first formed
but always I am not alone the hug is part of me as integral as the air in my lungs as inseparable as my winged soul from the myriad walls of my body, for now
Today is National Poetry Day in the UK, and while I no longer live in that place, I left part of my heart there, plus I also really enjoy being part of The Poetry Society. The theme for today is “the environment” but of course I took that in my own direction, writing what arrived in my head this morning. Thank you for reading!
For the past few years, I’ve written poems for the Inktober prompts, because I can’t resist a ready-made list and I love the randomness of it, plus the challenge! I have completed all 31 a couple of times, but last year I pooped out partway through. My dream is to find an artist to partner with, since I am not one for drawing (not successfully, anyway), but I have yet to really try and make that happen. I like the idea of a little zine that incorporates the art and words.
I’ve attempted to rope my artist daughter into partnering with me, but teenagers have an awful lot to do with school alone. Also I’m pretty sure it would need to be 100% her idea for it to actually happen.
With everything else I have on my plate at the moment, I had decided to forgo this annual tradition. . . . . until last night, when I started thinking about it, looked at the official list, and ended up cranking out haikus for the first 11. Haikus are short, and therefore less of a burden on my brain, and I guess the moon and stars were aligned just right plus the wind was blowing in the correct direction and my guardian angel was in just the right mood.
So, I am sharing these on my instagram! I’ve tried unsuccessfully for a while now this morning I get the posts to show up on my blog; I’m throwing in the towel. Here’s the link:
If you feel inclined to join me in this challenge, I would love it! Tag me, email me, or just do it and have a good time! If you add ink drawings to your poems, so much the better!!
Harvest moon rising | polaroid lab printed photo by author
Autumn began and I sat and listened to the cars rushing somewhere along some busy road beyond the fences and yards of the neighborhood and to the birds peeping intermittently checking in on one another like like bellhops at the tree motel
There were sirens, also, and there was some hammering
Autumn began and I sat and watched while the sky faded and the light drained away like bath water a whispering shush of the hint of a cool breeze breathing off the sprinkled lawn I watched purple become grey-blue then grey then something darker the color of soot and everything green followed suit until the solar sensor caught up and the patio bulbs clicked on with a flicker so a warm yellow glow wrapped around me and punctuated the shadows
Autumn began and I pretended that the traffic noise was a river in such a hurry that it had smoothed out all rocky and vegetable obstacles, so it could flow speedily and unobstructed with one swift continuous sound all babbling drawn tightly to a hush I made believe that the land that I claim is mine stretched beyond the wooden fence encompassing lakes and mountains hidden from view
Autumn began and I fooled myself for a pleasant little while that the tick of minutes from 8:02 to 8:03 marked a sudden change, and that it hasn’t been creeping on with a knowing smile for weeks, all year, just waiting in the background as it always does for its slow implacable turn
Sistine Chapel Exhibit, Austin | 35mm film photo by author
The Pope to the Sculptor, “Paint!” Michelangelo, “No thanks.” Replied the Pope, “That wasn’t a request. Now I trust you to do your very best.”
Back and forth and round and round until the ceiling was completed.
Reluctant artist made a work that can never be repeated.
This poem was inspired by a recent outing to see the Sistine Chapel exhibit in Austin. Nothing beats the real thing, but everything about the experience was fun and interesting! Thanks for reading!
Detail, large cyanotype on fabric by author (2020)
Happy World Cyanotype Day, friends! I realize this might seem like a strange thing to talk about here on my poetry blog, but if you’ve spent more than a minute here you probably know that I think of everything as being interconnected. Also, I like to pair my cyanotype prints with my writing.
AND I have a new endeavor: I’ve opened a shop on Big Cartel. I’m trying out the free version to see what happens, which means I have only 5 things listed, but all 5 of them are not only cyanotype related, but two of them are poetry books! So, if you have a second, please take a look:
Every night the cat comes and roosts next to me. Even if she has been attending to another member of the family, there is always the moment of her padding lightly and with purpose across the comforter like so much thick snow and settling herself, back turned, tail flicking, nonchalant and without obvious expectation
unless
I reach out to pet the luxury of her fur, in which case she will turn and give me her full attention.
Throughout the night she will come and go, often without my knowing. By morning she has resumed her vigil downstairs for breakfast, a shadow on the dining room carpet in the pale light of dawn, having perfected the fine art of patiently waiting which I wish I knew how to learn.
Absorbed by light capering daily to capture it within the net of my lens what eyes see and other senses perceive written down photon by photon through chemical layers and into silver whose monochromatic radiance dances across a scale back into the eye transformed shimmering with a glitter beyond what gold can purchase a gift of memory into years that have yet to come an emulsion standing in its own brilliance against the rush of time
Readers, I apologize for neglecting you! I haven’t been writing much lately, or blogging much; I’ve been focusing on a photography project and photography in general. Creativity comes not so much in waves, I find, but in flash floods – right now, I’m up to my neck treading water in cameras, film, and darkroom. So here’s a poem I wrote the other day that reflects where I am at the moment! Thanks for reading, and I hope you are all pleasantly swimming in your own river.
Well I write a poem about rejection letters and then a couple of days later I get one that’s acceptance! It’s like when you finally pull over to ask for directions and are told that the place you’re looking for is right around the next bend.
I went out on a limb and submitted a poem I wrote for a photo prompt on Beyond Words Magazine‘s Instagram, and to my very happy and pleasant surprised, it will be published in their October issue. Please check them out, and to my writer friends: why not submit?
Here’s to trying again, and then again and again. . . .