Tuesday, August 28, 2012

A Spare Moment . . .

Sunflower and friends . . .

A bit of a sky brush
has pasted some thin
white clouds
the eyes of the rising sun,
as she searches the faces
of those who love her, and
a melody is performed
as wings
touch the breeze . .. 
of a morning
full of tender peace 
and aching with memories . . .

The man with the gentle dog
offers to cut the sunflower for me
just as my camera captures 
that bright yellow face
to hold forever . .. 
I was deeply moved by this stranger's
desire . . . to give me a smile . . . 

. . . finding moments like these
strewn across my pathways
in an eternal heaven,
presents purpose and song,
like the meaning of stars 
and the spirit of waterfalls . . .  
like a gaze from the gods . . .
 it covers my spirit with healing,
creating me anew . . .

and though I said "No, but thanks,"
I received the greatest treasure
a day could offer . . . 
an endless space of love
in a tiny moment . . . . 
where the clouds are but spare tear drops,
flung out like pearls,
to frame the beauty 
of a flower
dancing eternally in the breeze . . . 

A beautiful morning, and I walked part way into work . . . and decided to take pictures of the sunflowers before they faded completely away . . . I especially wanted the sunflowers growing against the back wall of the automobile repair shop . . . because I had seen them in their glory . . . but I was a little late . . . yet I saw one solitary bloom that was striking, and took its picture  . . . and the man with his dog, was cutting across the field and he offered to cut the flower for me . .. and I felt such a connection between souls . .. I explained that I loved to photograph flowers but don't care to keep the blooms themselves as I prefer they stay where they are . . . giving joy to other eyes . . 


I like this music . ..  it fills my day with serenity and peace .. . .it gives some bright bubbles of light which sparkle in my atmosphere and I am soothed . ..  it can play for hours without becoming old . . . and it influences my spirit to create . ..  

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Meandering Road

Peahen, and her brood, taking a walk

My walking stick, like a third leg, gives me the stability I need to trudge through the unfinished roads near my home. A peaceful place; I find it necessary for me to have these few moments, here, to de-stress and 
The road, full of potholes
and gravel
is coated with a fine talcum powder dust
which rises as I walk,
lending yellow streaks to the still air . . . .
I hear small birds singing in the cool mornings
and during the warm afternoons
the chickens are wandering around softly murmuring
and chuckling over tasty discoveries . . .
while the voices of children add
to the flavor of the day . . .
Distant traffic
drones and eats away
at the edges 
where a squirrel chatters
at the crow who steals her hidden nuts.
Walking by a newly built house
I hear the friendly clatter of silverware
against porcelain. . . someone
stirs something up for dinner . . .
like a chime in a melody;
a lazy dog barks once or twice
and the crunch of gravel
adds to the tympani  . . .
there are children gathered
around the man trimming the wayward vines,
while laughing at his jokes
they help him
away from his secret sorrows,
and that deep well of loneliness
which pervades,
sinking like the dust
into the multitude of holes
in the soul . . .

A tree the captivates my senses

Time to cool down from those high hot temperatures of Summer? Well here you go . . . a nice chilly jazz tune to ease your pain . . . imagine standing under that waterfall . . . and listen . . .. !

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Barbara Wolfsong : Walk With Me

Video by Barbara Wolfsong
Photography by Barbara Wolfsong
Vers, France
Music by Van Syla, "In Your Eyes"
from the album, "Death of a Star"

When We Had Wings . . .

     so long ago . . .

     a spiraling galaxy
     held our hearts . ..

     and we flew from end to end
     with wings
     that cried . .

     in grief, of sorrow
     in joy, of love . .

     we held on our faces,
     masks of serenity

     our praying hands
     cupped nectar from
     invisible winds . . .

     and we dreamed
     of a golden star . . .
     shining on a silver sea . . .

     and we reflected
     from heart to heart
     a soul of a planet . . .
     a small blue flower . . .

     a babe cried there
     on a lonely shore . . .
     where the seabirds gathered
     and the salt air stings
     in contemplation . . .

     and the dreams flow
     like mists and dew,
     rivulets of
     what will be . . .

     tomorrow and tomorrow . .
     deeper into the darkness
     we flew . . .
     our wings of crystal . . .
     shattered and fell away
     and we forgot . . .
         that once we were angels . . .

EDIT (August 28, 2012):
I was so moved by a Jamendo friend, Stefano Mocini, who was inspired by this poem and wrote a beautiful musical piece to go along with it . . .

Rune made a beautiful video to showcase Stefano's music . . .