Imaginary
Lines crossed in the car’s back seat
Dad arm from the front
Category: Poetry
Subject Unknowing
I wonder if I’ve ever been
The subject of someone’s
Best photograph of the day
But never found out
Like this fellow here
On the third shot of eleven
Who never looked up
So never saw the camera
Pointed out the taxi window
Capturing this delightful moment
The Streets of San Francisco
Fabled Streets
Of San Francisco
Car chases
And cable cars
In nineteen hundred and ninety six
I take my 5th wheel down Powell
Forty-five feet of feelin’ cooler than
McQueen, Cage and Connery
Past the bottom
The truck’s brakes fail
So I drive the city streets
Using the trailer’s brakes
Impressing a parallel trucker
“You’re one of us,” he tells me
Eat your hearts out
Movie stars
Sharpness is a Bourgeois Concept
Colours and edges
Splashes and blur
Nothing to see
But for the eyes
A turn of a head
And just enough detail
This would be a discard
X’d out on a contact sheet
But for those eyes
Because now I want to know
What she sees
Princesses, Puppy dogs, and Rag Dolls
Greater than the magic of fairytales
Is a simpler
More beautiful enchantment
When once upon a time
Comes with every sunrise
Here’s a realm
Where every little girl
Is a princess
Holding court
Over puppy dogs
And rag dolls
With her maids
And maidens
Explores a wonderland
Of salt spray
Sea shells
And hermit crabs
While the ocean
Stretches out
Beyond the horizon
Of imagination
Beckoning
The Exhilerating Colours of Grey
He’d always start the day
In the ocean
With a board
And the waves
The water was always cold
Often too the air
Grey skies the norm
The sea like slate
But every wave
Was a band of colour
In a rainbow
That became his day
Light ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #319
Given just a day
We arrive
With howling glory
Our sun waxes
Then wanes
And in the end
Extinguished
Though in the final moments
Perhaps an opportunity
To reprise the beauty
That was and is
The magical light
Of our manifestation
Dust Storm
Sometimes
Life moves at a pace
I cannot keep
Or rather
Life moves
I simply do not
And in my disastrous stillness
The dust storm rolls in
Without hesitation
To Roll
Over
Me
Move or don’t move
Retreat or don’t retreat
Seek cover or…
Let
The dust
Take me
Nature’s Dance
I like to imagine
Mother Nature kicking back
In her Adirondack
Enjoying the majestic dance
Of her creation
Choreographed with geological rhythm
The chuckles she must chortle
As all her little creatures
Scurry about the stage
Like so many Keystone Kops
In a silent era comedy
None more ridiculous
Than we
Possibilities
A thought rises through the fog
Beautiful, perhaps
Or dangerous
Maybe both
As beauty and danger
Often are
Risk
The blade of possibility
Honed to fine edge
So that with a stroke
We may manifest the exquisite
Or sunder it
Whether through intent
Fortune or folly
Pix to Words 