Art with PS

by Tracin

Conjure forth a theme

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.

splashed

strikingly splashed globules of paint

alien friends

Entangled in my art

Entangled in my art as I appear
ensnarled, I've bartered with the sun
for contrast briskly clear.
Textured composition
as roots of trees cohere,
my camera in position
I'll meld within their sphere.

But soft!

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!

JULIET
Ay me!

ROMEO
She speaks:
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.

JULIET
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

Old man of the woods

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.

www.westmorelandconservancy.org
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.

Ninja Frosty and I

I'm posing with Ninja Frosty.
He may not look like much, but watch out for those hidden moves.

The miracle of creation

I created Frosty, and it is a miracle!
Frosty's hat is completely covered with snow, yet he looks happy!

This is my daughter's poem for school:

The joys of God are seen in his creation,
Which fill the world with life and elation.
They are shown through the sky and seas,
and through the miracle of the land and trees.
We ponder on why and how they got here,
and wonder if creation just did appear.
God's creation expresses his abundant love,
while he watches us from heaven above.

--large--

upsidedown underneath

upsidedown underneath stood the smiling shutterbug,
for art as perspective was the primary goal,
place the camera on a step of a children's sliding board,
then dash around and stand as steady as a pole,
the trees are upside down,
I'm lying on the ground,
said first glance as proper frame of reference stole

--large--