Photography, Poetry

Cheers to the moon

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Here’s to the garden man

raises a sign on country road

hopes some passersby may come

buy vegetables

He digs deep his rich garden dirt

while his dog sniffs up your walking shoes

Here’s to his beaten chair

worn from sun baking

contemplating how long must he wait

for good news

Here’s to hours after midnight

gazing up at silent skies

listening to solace rolling through

still as art on the wall

Here’s to the moon

shining bright like a headlight

take a breath take it in

let down your delicate within

for now everything feels alright

Poetry

Review

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Who will I write my letters to now you’ve sailed away

Who will answer from the distance of your wandering footsteps keeping time

Who will play the melody to my songs when finally I sing again

Who will recollect the pictures when so few occupied spaces in your mind

Who will I believe you’d become over hardened years

Who will I invite for our reunion when will and courage align

Who was it I imagined could hold on to some thinning thread between

Who was it in the room to notice your slow graceless fall

Who was it you liked to call your only friend

Who was it called your number disconnected

Who was it arrived to knock at a pale door where life had fled

Who is it hears your song playing long and wan and deep in the after

Who is it captures your drawings in this wooden frame

Who is it plants white lilies on your lonesome grave

Who is it remembers the proper spelling of your name

Photography, Poetry

Aftervillage

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Amid quiet crumbling beauty

we tread with light deliberate steps

watchful for what could happen

for some unexpected opening in this damp and fragile earth

into which we may fall

Here lies evidence of possibility

we see through our sunglass obscured eyes

all there is to see of what remains after abandonment and its aftermath

decay in slow motion

a death in silence

What will we have learned having come as witnesses

to imagine what was and then what has become juxtaposed

And can we say with conviction in our voices when we emerge

from this moist sinking landscape

to walk again on the even ground of modernity

that we understand

Who left first and who was the last to cross the bridge

Who won

How shiny was the prize?

 

 

Observation, Photography, Poetry

Cap Signs

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Walking, I sometimes see

Objects sparkle

Objects calling to me

Yes, I know about desire

Danger danger verywhere

Still, conscious of potential

I stoop, I reach

I take a closer look

There are messages in odd places

Walking, I sometimes take

Slip a stone inside my pocket or

Prop a cap up on a bridge

Over this murky brook

For you to find sometime.

Life, Nature, Observation, Photography

Present Hiss

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Writer philosophers birth idea volumes

defeat defiance despair existential disparity

Artists brushes soak in toxins

life cycle depiction or candid canvas prediction

Pleased to meet you, reality

Now it’s back to horses and dusty horse riders

Street battles wasting time

Stele entries forgotten or faded

No honoured heros names to add

Inspiration waits for the revival

Sipping tea in the wings


Photography, Poetry, Writing

Frame

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Photo tilts left

in the room of messy flowers

Light splashes shadows

these old silenced walls

Rest your head

for an evening

Lay it down, you wandering traveler

Everything yearned for lives

out of reach but still in sight

Boots on at dawn

Turning page, young seeker

Toss those maps over the ledge

Step one, you are ready

eyes bright with colour

Black and white was just a crack

drawing you in

Your beginning


Pencil on paper. Images arise. Message received.

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