Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Monday, January 25, 2010

Conjure forth a theme

Frabel drop

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

splashed



strikingly splashed globules of paint

Saturday, January 16, 2010

alien friends





Entangled in my art

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.

Friday, January 15, 2010

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

wherefore art thou

Monday, January 11, 2010

Old man of the woods

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.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Ninja Frosty and I

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











Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The miracle of creation

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--

Saturday, January 2, 2010

upsidedown underneath

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--

Thursday, December 31, 2009

Tiny Mushrooms on a Tree

Tiny Mushrooms on a Tree
Tiny mushrooms on a tree,
Hide your angels under thee,
When the snow does hide your wealth,
Then no longer need to stealth.

--large--

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Skeletal Grain

Ice, grass, and learning Photoshop
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

--large--
Original:

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Diffracting waves

Diffraction
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?
It's out there...
Perchance it's what I've been waiting for.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Solitude


One lonely leisure afternoon the trail laid bare before my way,
remote seclusion summons hypnotic spell I must obey.
Subtle solemn silence set amongst the shiny snow
is sure to rip this emptiness from my soul whence it did lay.
Solitude

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

messages sent through vast starlight

Heaven and Earth
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

A statue robust in glorious hue

Frabel beauty glass sculpture at Phipps
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

Gently fading
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

Poised beneath the petals


Alone beneath the petals,
Poised without a peer,
Parabolic potentate,
Plainly does appear.

Consumes my sight

Christmas Cactus at Phipps Conservatory with yellow star
A star, ever so bright, explodes beyond my grasp,
her luminance shines yellow like a supernova of light,
A perfectly highlighted flower of Christmas Cactus,
sharp contrast curves along her supple form, and consumes my sight

Sunday, December 13, 2009

3 times and 4 squared

milkweed
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

Panta rhei

Juggler's blues
An inspiration, held aloft or yet neigh,
Panta rhei,
Conflagration, as the jugglers held high,
Panta rhei,
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 --
everything's changing,
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,
someday we'll fly.
Perhaps we'll meet again,
Panta rhei
www.flickr.com/photos/panta/523320577/

Monday, November 23, 2009

fly butterfly fly

I represent the 1% of folks that are interested in butterflies.
Butterflies are back at Phipps

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,
fly with no regret, and captivate us all...

Thursday, November 12, 2009

maple leaf rag

maple leaf rag

Shifting shapes are formed by wafting breezes
as hue, saturation, and brightness adorn the ardent eye.
Subtle desires burn as yellow and orange conflagrations
indebted to loss of green whence envy makes me sigh.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

whisp of yellow

whisp of yellow

Homegrown wisp of yellow,
thou art my best inspiration,
fraught betwixt mellow template,
brought throngs of exaltation.

a spot of sunlight appeared

a spot of sunlight appeared

beyond the shadows,
below the fold,
between the green,
be ever so bold.