Posts Tagged ‘poetry’
Mood
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maybe it’s this mood I’m in
that has me feeling this way
falling head over heels
for another character
Anna Kendrick played
in a movie
and getting floored
by every song
on a John Hiatt album
from deep in the stack
when did we get this old
that we look like our parents
or some of us
like our grandparents
slogging away
at the day to day
letting time sail past
unaware how it pulls
us along on the crest
flying through moods
as they materialize
conjured from unlikely sources
a dream
a picture
a thought I once had
a dog I just remembered
from a long time ago
it’s all Jello
in different colors
before photo manipulation was all the rage
but it can’t be retrieved
no matter how long we wait
so we wrestle with the trick
of figuring out how it’s still connected
with this particular minute
and I wonder what it has to do
with this mood I still find myself in
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Value
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If I’d had a chance
to think of that
maybe I would
who can say?
a picture on the wall
painted as art
worth more than the house
to the right beholding eye
a simple line
and a dot
some colors
not all that good together
from what I could see
but somewhere along the line
the painter became a name
and value simply followed
like rain drops rolling together
into larger and larger pools
into streams flowing down
dollar signs piling up
suddenly a picture
becomes like diamonds
a fancy kind of watch
melted bars of gold
they are things that don’t really matter
unless people decide they do
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Distracted
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and all of a sudden
without any explanation at all
the focus of attention jumped
from the poorly arranged merchandise
on the side of the checkout queue
to the understated, but odd colored socks
on the ankles of a person next in line
making it all the easier
to ignore the attention grabbing headlines
of publications so unbelievably stupid
it pains a brain to comprehend
how a person could even read them
which doesn’t matter in the least
when the systems of the planet
keep spinning in tighter decline
and crimes of multiple kinds
flash by every day in headlines
billionaires burning bridges
in a quest for greater wealth
blindly assuming it will protect them
from the crashing global health
turning blessed life itself
into some kind of pyramid scheme
assuming what worked before
will pan out for them once again
and they will get their precious reward
before the inevitable collapse
eventually arrives right on time
bouquet in hand
staring
a sort of Mona Lisa smile
ready to clink drink glasses
and toast ill-gotten gains
that laid to waste all that remains
as attention jumps again
to the little fingers of a child
wrapped tightly around one digit
of a distracted adult hand
all hope and love glowing
in a face of youthful innocence
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Enhanced Words
Just over a week ago, my brother of a friend, Ian Rowcliffe —a primary inspiration for Cyndie’s and my adventures in creating Wintervale Ranch— shared a link to a video his daughter, Stephanie produced. She deftly incorporated my Words on Images creations (inspired by our stay with them in Portugal) with a delightful piece of music.
Stephanie’s keen artistic senses crafted a spectacular result that is infinitely more than the sum of its parts. The experience of revisiting the piece last week resonated a variety of positive vibrations for me. I hope by watching it, you might discover something of the paradise that Ian and his family have nurtured in their Forest Garden Estate in Portugal.
Their property is a destination to be considered for travelers who share a sense of appreciation to Ian’s and our perspectives on the wonders of the world.
Re-posting the video here feels a little excessively self-aggrandized for me, but this is my blog, after all, so I guess this could be considered a fair use.
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Loving
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What if someone was already me and I didn’t know it
he or she could be wandering around the planet
doing what I was about to do
already being the person
I was expecting to become
someday when my demons were done
and everything I thought I thought up
was thought up some time before
in some place totally unknown
and I remained oblivious
What if no one knew they had been loved by me
because I never told
of all the years I marveled their countenance
memorizing memories of previous proximities
long after we’d both moved on
and we never would meet again
could I successfully send
my mental dancing vision to each and every soul
in such a spectacular way
it would consciously imbue
a knowing nod that it had come from who
had held their presence through
days that led to years
sometimes bringing tears
mostly filled with joy of having seen
potential as a passing time
What if we never had to decide whether something was actually true
and holier than thou wasn’t something we knew
hate, fear, and shame deserted the planet in threes
a currency of love the only legal tender in use
one that gained value and exponentially grew
when distributed freely and widely
instead of being stored in large vaults
and hoarded with other faults
those whose hearts flowed gracefully
with honest love glowing weightlessly
could heal wounds with the richness of a glance
a knowing look that says those three precious words
describing a feeling that knows no bounds
poverty would become a basic fail
to practice a universal art others hail
of truly loving everyone with our own inherent free will
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Relative Something 