Thursday, December 31, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Apparently I purchased Photoshop Elements, not knowing the difference between that and the regular Photoshop. Elements doesn't have a 'Pen' tool, which was in the tutorial I was following. Well, without the Pen tool I wasn't able to accomplish what I set out to do, but rather instead, I played around with layers, and made this funky layer then did some funky 'toy' effect. Oh well.
It kind of reminds me of the segments in a dinosaur display at a museum.
Call it: Skeletal Grain
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Diffracting waves encircle tiny tufts of grasses puffed with shiny glare,
Sun sets beyond my reach where dreams lie idle beyond my grasp,
Resuscitating instances of future glow and color lapse,
it would be mine if I've tempted fate and braved my fears,
but do I dare?
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
These heavenly bodies floating through the universe are in reality
Yellow puff blossoms on green in the cactus room at Phipps Conservatory.
Multitudes are found on a tree, and they are quite small.
I walk by day in green covered woods, although they're white,
where song birds sing beneath the sun and crickets chirp by night,
and she is near, although quite far by sight,
yet we converse by messages sent through the vast starlight.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Seeing in all its glory,
the drama and seeming movement of its form,
the gentleness and purity,
the grandeur and flavor
unsurpassed in sight and light,
simulated with a model,
a statue robust in glorious hue,
perceptions forged with depth,
and one lingering impression yet to imbue
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Gently fading, drifting off to sleep;
a kind of conscience transition betwixt these waking and sleeping states of mind
where hyperbolic hysteresis transforms slowly, and when perchance
I'm yanked back along the curving spline from sleeping to waking,
that infinitesimally greater bit of energy spent is greater than that of the original journey down,
now up I'll spring into startled quickening alertness difficult to divine.
And what have I lost, or what beauty gained?
Entropy cannot kill my fertile mind.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Pictures give me inspiration for writing:
A cold wet December, so dark and so gray,
Twice as bleak now that my love is away,
My mind in disorder, my heart well astray,
Glee torn asunder, what chance for today?
Yet deep in the shadows beyond where I lay,
One glimmer of hope, one glint of a ray,
Like a star in the night, diffuse and soigné,
It beckons my soul to keep patient this day.
As milkweed seeds fly on a wing and a prayer,
And cycles of tides forge temporal fare,
She will return with her luminance there,
And I will rejoice 3 times and 4 squared!
Monday, December 7, 2009
An inspiration, held aloft or yet neigh,
Conflagration, as the jugglers held high,
Orange red globules trickle to earth, oh my,
But don't sigh, Panta rhei.
Precious soles lose touch,
yet still held high in my eminent eye,
now perhaps they are juggling, but I won't cry
If Panta Rhei --
then what has changed?
Like juggling, the balls and clubs are in the air,
yet they cycle around again,
only to travel their path yet again,
Like the cycles of the earth.
Sure, Panta rhei, but we'll travel that road again,
Perhaps we'll meet again,
Monday, November 23, 2009
So hello my lovely little butterfly, how do you fly.
Your beauty is alluring,
It takes my breath away,
Your clarity is defining,
white and black and gray.
But why do I try to catch so lovely a creature as you?
You deserve your freedom,
so fly, butterfly, fly,
Keep your flight and light upon the air,
flutter here and flutter there,
thou shalt pass my way again, I'm sure.
Your season is spring, and mine is fall,
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
The story of the cotton wool thread.
There once was a small cotton wool thread, that was afraid that he, as he was, would not be useful for anything: "...for a rope I am much too weak", he said to himself; " …and for a pullover too short. To socialize with others, I have much too many inhibitions. For my own embroidery I also say no, in addition I am too pale and too colourless. Yes, if I would be from Lurex, I could garnish a stole or a dress. But what? It does not come to pass! What can I do already? No one needs me. No one likes me – and I me the least of all."
So the small cotton wool thread spoke, put on some sad music and felt entirely dejected. Then a clump of wax knocked on his door and said: "Do not let yourself hang just so, you cotton wool thread! I have an idea: let's both work this out together. For a large candle, you are in fact too short to be a wick and I do not have enough wax for that, but for a tea candle, it would be just right. It is just much better to light a small flame than to always complain about the darkness!"
Because the small cotton wool thread was entirely happy, he sat together with the clump wax and said: "Now my existence has meaning."
And who knows, perhaps there is in the world yet more short cotton wool threads and small wax clumps that could get together themselves in order to illuminate the world?
Die Geschichte vom Baumwollfaden.
Es war einmal ein kleiner Baumwollfaden, der hatte Angst, dass er so, wie er war, zu nichts nützlich sei:
„...für ein Schiffstau bin ich viel zu schwach", sagte er sich;"…und für einen Pullover zu kurz. An andere anzuknüpfen, habe ich viel zu viele Hemmungen. Für eine Stickerei eigne ich mich auch nicht, dazu bin ich zu blass und zu farblos. Ja, wenn ich aus Lurex wäre, dann könnte ich eine Stola verzieren oder ein Kleid. Aber so ? Es reicht nicht!
Was kann ich schon? Niemand braucht mich.
Niemand mag mich – und ich mich am allerwenigsten."
So sprach der kleine Baumwollfaden, legte eine traurige Musik auf und fühlte sich ganz niedergeschlagen.
Da klopfte ein Klümpchen Wachs an seine Tür und sagte: „ Lass dich doch nicht so hängen, du Baumwollfaden! Ich hab' da eine Idee: wir beide tun uns zusammen.
Für eine große Kerze bist du als Docht zwar zu kurz und ich hab' dafür nicht genug Wachs, aber für ein Teelicht reicht es allemal. Es ist doch viel besser ein kleines Licht anzuzünden, als immer nur über die Dunkelheit zu jammern!"
Da war der kleine Baumwollfaden ganz glücklich, tat sich mit dem Klümpchen Wachs zusammen und sagte: „ Jetzt hat mein Dasein doch einen Sinn."
Und wer weiß, vielleicht gibt es in der Welt noch mehr kurze Baumwollfäden und kleine Wachsklümpchen, die sich zusammentun könnten, um der Welt zu leuchten ?
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Yours is the free flow of emotion that grabbed my attention.
Now I perceive the advent of cognitive dissonance.
Perchance, yonder alleviated expectancy ripped a void in the universe.
Said expanse of time won't suffice hyperbolic vitriol.
Meld quick, young thought, tonight won't be an eternity.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
When days are shorter, and thoughts grow dim,
all the very essence of life must grow effervescent to compensate
with equal and opposite reaction.
Wenn die Tage kürzer werden, und Gedanken blasser,
all das Wesen des Lebens muss wachsen Brausetabletten zum Ausgleich
mit gleichartige und entgegengesetzte Reaktion.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
To be able to summon the lightning bolt, and with great music, now that's what I wonder... what would it be like?
FF to about 6:10 for the best part :)
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
The Swan of Tuonela
You were a dream to me, I could not conceive
heighten tension sliding below
ebbing higher gently swayed as in a breeze
softly enunciating naivety
Flutter by, but don't wave
don't see me below your soaring wing
perceive your world, but not my black watery depths
awakening beyond as light permeates mist
Full and rich depths surround
as grand aura fills my sound
your lone voice observes alone
higher still - would we soar at the same height?
Yet not together
Take a bow and smile
Monday, August 31, 2009
An angel appeared one night before my searching eyes,
As my visage cried for understanding.
She was waxen, laden with subtle raindrops,
Her aura became a purely subtle refrain,
In my thoughts and with the rain.
I could not resist a complex notion,
that meaning corresponds to the apparition,
and with that cogent recognition,
I compelled myself to gather momentum,
for a leap toward another direction.
She taught me to sing,
and sang I might,
for that night shone stars so bright,
that I could climb eternal heights.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Mine is the music and slumber that beget my dreams of friendship,
discovering brooks of thought woven amongst
our roads and bridges built between islands of inspiration.
Breath deep the aroma of ten thousand pink blossoms,
we are not exempt from the smile of a child in mirth.
My journey is a search for one friend who may redeem
these dreams of lyric verses like songs within my heart.
Yours is the creative spark,
the power of inspiration.
Your brainchild is a brainstorm,
deeply thought, yet an exaltation.
Quite fancy the finely flowing photo,
mixed as an impulse to spur the imagination.
A notion of a muse to awaken our arousal,
an idea I shan't be able to resist.
Enthusiasm for your eloquent composition,
with little encouragement becomes my zest and zeal.
Frequent fervent visits approach an animus,
so kindly shared your vision of elevation,
bestowed upon me.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
So how best to articulate this characteristic of beauty? It's hard to put down in so many words. The previous paragraph simply flowed from my mind through my fingers into words almost effortlessly. But now I must pause to organize my thoughts more succinctly to provide an artful expression. What semblance of beauty is felt so deeply, and at the same time is so difficult to describe. It has two parts. One is the feeling itself; and the harder part to proclaim is the revelation divulging the condition. It is affection. Synonyms include amore, ardor, attraction, attachment, care, closeness, concern, crush, desire, devotion, emotion, endearment, feeling, fondness, friendliness, friendship, good will, hankering, heart, inclination, itch, kindness, liking, love, passion, predilection, propensity, regard, sentiment, shine, soft spot, solicitude, tenderness, warmth, weakness, yen, and zeal.
And zeal is what I've had. Enthusiastic devotion to a cause, ideal, or goal and tireless diligence in its furtherance. Yet patience with pleasant and steady happy friendly un-expectancy. Never pushing more than a subtle word and relishing only in a knowledge of mutual simpatico smiling subtleties known or unknown, yet felt deliciously.
And the whole world of first impressions stemming from this proclamation often leads the hearer to retreat from its source. Only a friendly exuberant impression is intended, yet sometimes the opposite reaction arises. But the truly nice counterpoised response is to embrace the knowledge in no more nor less a fashion as would be the response without having gained said information. Accept it in a vacuum, as one would simply have greeted a new friend, without mistrust of intentions. Giving joyous welcome with little uncertain doubt would be beautiful.
But this is the ideal. And I have been lucky enough to have seen it: once.
And so that none feel I'm the first to ever visit this subject, refer to a beautiful poem "Ode To Beauty," by Ralph Waldo Emerson, which begins:
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Metronomic candor - Beethoven Symphony No. 8
Gorgeous serendipity, landed squarely on my nose
No lack of hesitation, dare rob me of my prose
Speaking speech in volume, pitched above three rows
Luck she barely knew me, and nimble on her toes
Born with trepidation, and furrows on her brow
A subtle time and mellow rhyme, and now's when I avow
Overture preamble, pioneering lead somehow
Further salutation, hello goodbye and ciao
What rapid introspection, as during tranquil lull
Was thought and then was lost upon, and glance would soon befall
Approaching gentle movement, commence and dart away
Lunge full bore, sawing bow and sweeping sooth foray
Steeped to incredulity, behind inquiring glance
Thread simple hesitation, woven as a dance
Morphing other voices, and rhythm to enhance
Stretched around my temple, unlikely as romance
Extend seesaw return chutzpa
Winding up reverb
Unleash what's raw and look voila
Adoration cannot curb
Start again, reprise and yet, consider slower still
Metronomic candor, ascending toward yon hill
Drowning with your grandeur, grasping for a thrill
Bass and sound revolve around, strings they do instill
Impetuous dampened softness, rich with full contour
Sweet and slender tremor, ascend with bass once more
Burst horns upon my consciousness, alert to hear the score
Prepare one heart for apex, last passion to endure
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Your were well within my sensory jungle,
but no orbit could revolve my subtle influence,
without hyperbolic prelude I could bungle,
or sympathetic cogence yielding confluence.
A big blue marble and orange globule held together
without reason or without rhyme,
a weaker force within a greater capacity
describes attraction under ordinary time.
But my whole world held together with a tether
immersed succinctly under firmament,
ample planets circle round my tender mind
creating stratum and arching supercillium.
Yes my zone is within reach of her stomping ground,
my compass points directly to gentle province,
dominion pulling through the level field,
my pale brown eyes adhere a course aligned
Realm rank and scope subside with footsteps fell
before my meandering path around
each rondo falls like an apple
under force of function on the ground
And now the anxious approach
do I dare
I've lost my sphere of introspection
how will I fare?
Thursday, January 8, 2009
juxtaposed within glowing amber curves
her supple forms waved before my eyes
softly flowing current of the brook
darkening shade provoking dreadful sighs
sunlight shone twice madly upon my scene
she was subtle if unseen
thus she stole my task of racing green
transfixed now I between
my chore before
would suffice no more
it now became thus necessary
to sample sudden sight galore