Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
'cause her appointment with destiny had barely begun.
Temporal positioning may cede the night's fun,
yet the visage of alacrity would soon dance with someone.
originally posted here:
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Clearing pathways yonder yet to find,
Gold mist rising from crestfallen marshes,
Like the amber haze afresh clearing from my mind.
Supple movements capturing anew imagination,
As the dream along the edges of thoughts periphery,
And still I know that she is out there waiting,
poised for one more rendezvous epiphony.
As planets rotate, and stars align,
Our course is set once more again,
To meet at apex heterodyne,
Mixing inverse wavelengths which we engrain,
An attraction deeply affixed within time.
Come, once again,
upon the revolution of our eliptical paths,
meet once again,
talk for a while,
and try to get to know one another for a spell,
before we part,
to our diverse destinies with stardust written;
suspend that certain future for a while with me.
C'est la vie.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
But soft, what have we here,
Angels wrapped in petals as rare apparition.
Yet it is but your cheek, as yellow and white
With some orange hue to remind me of you.
The shades envelope my mind as if to spite
That memory that can never in fruition
Come complete to fulfill my desire or kill my fear,
and gentle as that vision I'll always keep you dear.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Land's end - the end of land.
What's left - the sea.
Limits beyond our imagination
verging on limitless, that mass of ocean free.
When it is soiled we are roiled,
yet barely a prick upon her knee,
that beautiful sea.
And she will return to thee,
unscathed, you'll see.
To each other were are but masks,
not seeing the real visage behind,
not knowing each other, really.
What is there we don't see?
Beneath the mask is a person,
the person we may never see.
Why not reveal what lies beneath?
Why are we always hiding.
Divergence, it begins at birth.
We start out alike, we see others,
we make friends easily.
Then we form clicks, groups,
or we hide from the world in
our own individualist hibernating way.
We diverge, until the time we realize
the folly of our ways.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
and listen to the sounds of nature:
spring peeper frogs far off in the distance,
yet distinctly recognized,
woodpeckers making commotion,
sweet song birds singing and
various sundry other recognizable bits of beauty,
sights and sound,
with the fresh Spring wind blowing
refreshingly on my face as I ride.
Observe the patterns and reflections in the water.
Floating along the calm surface of the creek, every Spring these water skimmers are mating.
It was about 45 minutes of lots of photos.
After a little while I found the perfect spot for the blue reflection, then I kept my eye out for them to float through that spot, and kept snapping.
Friday, April 9, 2010
The anointed ruler stumbles on,
trampling subjects 'till he's gone;
the governed rise against the fool,
that dimming luminary unfit to rule.
Written in my perceived fashion after Shakespeare's style, as per my daughter's invitation to aid her in her Shakespeare homework assignment :)
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
I reached, but she was no longer there,
and as my reward 'twas an empty hollow embrace,
these fragile hands no longer feel her supple silky hair.
Would I awake from a dream bereft of her sweet grace?
Alone, like the planets that revolve around the sun,
some with moons, some with none,
yet all alone are they in their darkest void of space,
never slowing, never yielding, till their path is done.
Lost souls wandering, connecting with only means
of simple communication, like light beacons between the stars,
some understood, others pass us by, missing our horizon,
until the heavens unite our worlds, a journey ever far.
Fräbel Glass at Phipps Conservatory
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Conjure forth a theme
Sweeping of arms and lunging of motion
evoke in a word a sense of commotion,
similar phrases conjuring theme
this sequence of notes just aren't what they seem.
Then did arise adroit hands on the keys
with a melody scored like a spirited breeze,
or cascading like water tinkling on stones,
or songs of the birds amongst all the trees.
Flourished embellishments contrasted in time
keenly epitomize this favorite of mine.
Harmonious development continue to grow
into more than you hear, but not less than we know.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Manifold color with this blue Frabel glass statue.
--JULIET appears above at a window
"But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air.
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet."
-- Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare
Monday, January 11, 2010
The old man of the woods reached his frothy arms way high to the sky
They say I am a white oak, but at my age I feel more like gray
He stretched so high above the highest competitor of the canopy
And halfway down, illuminated greenery surrounded his pealing fray
When I grew up, there was a small lane, called Twin Oaks Lane.
Twas a very secluded lane rarely traveled
of course I used to ride my bicycle there whenever I could
Certain parts of the hilly lane were lined with Pennsylvania mountain
laurel, way up on the steeply inclined ridges on the left
On the right was a beautiful little stream stretching off into the
deep dark woods. So many birds and so much fauna and flora
climbed over my head and around my way -- the sights and sounds
brought secluded joy to my young heart.
Twin Oaks Lane led to a park, beyond tree lined meandering section,
just adjacent to a field, a farm, a different habitat.
The park was a wondrous destination, a place to ride to, a place to
stop and hike and see the various sights. One section was covered
with a whole set of pine trees, I'm told were planted in the 1930's.
Eventually, when I was just this youngster yet, but beyond the teen
age years, by a single year, I met another, who's heart was enthralled
by nature. But that is a whole other story.
My glorious white oak tree, I've seen you yet again.
Stand ever so tall for me, don't abandon me.
I'm a member of this organization, also on the board.
We are trying to acquire the land where this particular white oak tree stands.
I took a stroll in these lovely woods. And this photo is my keepsake.