On a cool, calm morning
Overcast, serene
The river and the people
Flow out to the shore
There to be lost
In their own way
To the surf and the sea
Category: Poetry
Carapace Overturned
Tides and surf
Wash death’s remnants
Upon the shore
Autumn’s chill short days
Fell colourful leaves
To brown on forest floor
Nature makes no time
For funerals or grieving
In the cycle of life
Love and loss and mourning
Experiences of consciousness
Which is to say
When existence
Becomes conscious of itself
And learns to fear oblivion
Waiting ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #330
In a moment of sizzle
Humming fan blades
And the thrum of traffic
She waited
For some tasty tidbit
I couldn’t make out from the taxi
She thought about yesterday
And tomorrow
Last week and next month
She thought about everything
But this moment
And the tasty thing sizzling
Or the next moment
When the tasty thing would mercilessly
Burn her tongue oh so deliciously
But…
Who’s to say any of this is true?
I was just a photographer living in the frame
Capturing serendipitous moments from a moving taxi
And now I’m just a poet
Listening to the words as they come
Trying to give them their moment
So all of it is fiction
Or maybe some of it is the truth
Though, hopefully
I’ve created something
Which at least
Speaks truly
Even if
It only speaks truly
About the act of creation
Or maybe, the story
Is just saying something truthful
About the creator
North Light
The little window
In the northern wall
Through which the lovely light falls
When the drapes aren’t closed
As Water Falls
As water falls
In fractured cascade
See trauma’s pain
Fragmented mesh
Of memory and behavior
Slim tenuous tendrils
Strewn across twin darknesses
Of dissociation and repression
Shattered shards of self
Unanchored and adrift
Centre Line II
A journey of a thousand miles
Begins with a centre line
Billowing ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #329
I cut a path through the long grass billowing
Well off the trail the others had tread
And composed there a scene
Few travellers would see
Footfalls through the dunes
Skies grey as the sand
And blackened monoliths
Tossed about like stones
From a small child’s hand
There, in the buffeting wind
Amidst the storm-sodden grass
Shielding the lens
From the rain and debris
I gathered dim light
Small hope had I
This photo could be…
Worth soggy shoes
And cold, wetted socks
My pants would drip water
Later
When twisted in knots
First, back to the car
All shivering raw
Engine now running
With hands to the heater
Hoping to thaw
Now months and months later
At home nice and warm
Editing photos I took in a storm
To my delight I discover
They came out… alright
Boiler Bay
Slate grey sky
Slate green sea
Ancient conifers
Snuggle up to the rocky shore
Recalling, perhaps
Distant ancestors
From a primordial ocean
Even I can imagine
With my scant sixty years
From this perch over Boiler Bay
Beachcomber
Beachcombing
You come with me
The same way you come shopping
Indulge me
Shopping
You come into the mall
Find a comfortable place
Then sit and read
Or people watch
Feign interest in the things I buy
Then watch over the bags
While I go to another shop
At the beach
You walk safely
Beyond the longest waves
While I splash about
Getting soaked
Finding sea stars and shells
Sand dollars and seaweed
Always feigning amazement
At the wonders I bring
But whether a crowded mall
Or an empty beach
You always come
Often despite my protestations
That you don’t like to shop
Or go beachcombing
That you’ll be bored
And I’m sure your time
Would be better spent
Doing something else
“No”
You say
“I’m coming”
And it always surprises me
Takes my breath away
When I notice that your feigned pleasure
In a new scarf
Or a hermit crab
Is just a distraction
Because you’re not looking at the object
I’m showing you
You’re looking at me
With the sparkle of wonder in your eye
And I’m reminded again
That you come
To be with me
And there’s no place
You’d rather be
And, my god
I could not love you more
For the way you take pleasure
In indulging me
Pix to Words 