Day 244: My Other Love

One of my favorite poetry books.

I have a poetic soul, somewhere deep inside me.
And it's screaming too be let out,
To find a place in my everyday,
To be in charge, or at least have a say.

My inner poet yearns for literary freedom.
It understands the power of words,
It glories in their beauty,
And feels the tangible strength they give.

My poetic soul is impatient and hungry,
And it scares me a little.
So I keep it locked up,
And only let it out on special occasions.

To be admired and mourned from a distance.

Day 224: Static Daydreams

Steam rising in the morning air.

This picture is me.
It's everything I like about poetry, books, music, art, movies, etc.
It's dark and beautiful, and a little confusing.
It's inexact and interesting.

One day I'll be able to write the perfect story,
Filled with melancholy
And beauty.
And intrigue.

Someday I'll find the words to express,
This thing that I love about the world.
But the words are lost somewhere.
Wherever this dream is that I keep chasing.

So for now I will have to show it in pictures.
My love of that imperfect beauty.
That static dream that is just beyond reach.

Until I get it right.

Day 120: Metal Tree

My necklace tree.

I went a little crazy on the post-processing tonight, but I had fun with it.  I've been reading a lot of Emily Dickinson the past few days to help with my writers block.  I'm still not having any luck on the poetry front, but I did find this little treasure in my search:

A word is dead
When it is said,
    Some say,
I say it just
Begins to live
    That day.

I love this poem not just because it's short, but because I love words, and I love thinking of them as living things once they are put to use.  What a great way of describing the power of a word!

Day 79: Peek-a-Boo

I have no idea what this flower is called, but it looks like it's hiding it's face with little petal hands.

Here's a little poem about the flower.  It came out sounding more morbid than I meant it to.

Hiding Flowers
I look between splayed fingers
Hiding in the dark
Afraid of what might be out there
Visible and stark

Wide open in the summer air
Loud and tremulous
Knocking over limbs and sprigs
Too big to notice us

Too wide care at all about
Our fragile little parts
Not noticing how harsh it grabs
How fast it breaks our hearts

So covering my little eye
I wait with baited breath
For the moment when it comes for me
The author of my death

Day 76: Driving

Somewhere in a canyon in Oregon.

On the road, the world looks like a sun-bleached diorama.  The people in the cars stare at one another as they pass each other, all with similar expressions of boredom on their faces.

Like dolls in a museum.

The truck drivers are always unnecessarily interested in every car that passes them.
The mini vans and SUV's filled with families sport haggard looking parents vacantly staring at their fellow drivers.
The old couples with their wrap-around sunglasses and their slightly confused looks, are too busy keeping the car in a straight line to worry about their fellow motorists.
The young single hipsters are driving their sporty SUV's (like my Outback) with their mountain bikes strapped to the roof and their cooler-than-you glances.

It's all so predictable and interesting at the same time that I can't help making a study of all of them as we drive. How many of them are doing the same thing to me? Which category do I fall under when they look at my vacant expression?

Deep thoughts.

Day 66: Storm Chasers

Classic shot of my family checking out the storm after dinner tonight.

After I snapped this photo, everyone turned on me, thinking that my flash was a lightning strike. Or so I thought.  Actually, just milliseconds after I took the picture, lightning did strike, but I didn't see it because my eyes were obscured by the viewfinder.  Awesome.


A Haiku:

Love my family!
Swapping stories, making fun
Laughter all around.

Day 52: Haiku

Candles and junk.

It's a Friday night, and I went out to a movie (typical) with Christine.  I didn't think to bring my camera, and I missed a few good photo op's.  Now I'm stuck with lame macro shots again.  There goes my grand plans to up my game and take better shots.  I guess there's always tomorrow.

A Haiku
Little candle flame
Flickering light on my face
Not too bright, are you?

Day 45: Trees!

This is one of my favorite trees.

I missed the clouds yesterday.

I kept noticing the lack of clouds every time I looked outside, and when I walked to my car last night, I was a little sad.  They must have missed me too, because they came back in full force by this evening!  I tried to get the awesome sunset-filled clouds with this amazing tree, but the angle didn't work.  These clouds are pretty cool too!

Clouds and trees...what more could I want?

This picture reminds me of a song my mother used to sing to me when I was young (I don't know the title):

I know a place,
Where no one ever goes
There's peace and quiet,
Beauty and repose.

It's hidden in a valley,
Beside a mountain stream.
And lying there beside the stream,
I find that I can dream.

Only of things,
Of beauty to the eye.
Snow peaked mountains,
Rise up to the sky.
Now I know,
That God has made this world,
For me.

One can imagine,
Himself as in a dream.
Climbing up a mountain,
Or down a small ravine.

The beauty of this peace and quiet,
Ever will stay.
To make this place a haven,
Each and every day.

Oh how I wish,
I never had to leave!
All my life,
Such beauty to receive!
Now I know,
That God has made this world,
For me!

Oh yes, for me!

Day 42: Inspiring Views

The beautiful sky.

The following is a short blurb on the sun.  This is what I noticed today as I was driving around in the dappled light, wishing I wasn't driving, so that I could take a million pictures as I passed scene after scene of breathtaking awesomeness!

The sun,
Partially obscured by thick layers of clouds,
Shines intermittently on the vast landscape,
Casting it's shrouded gleam onto the world below
In a patchwork of light and dark.

With each beam, the sun creates a new landscape,
paints a new canvas with stark beauty.
And just when you think you can't look anymore,
The clouds come and veil the brightness
Until it is bearable again.

The world then takes on a new look.
One of deep blues and purples,
With shadows and hidden recesses.

Neither light nor shadow is better than the other.
Rather, their mutual presence creates a fairyland,
An alien landscape of bright contrasts
That are so beautiful,

You can't look away.