April 30, 2019. How to convey a magical experience? I was so into it while it lasted that “make a video” never occurred to me. The image here (collage of a prior moon photo with clip-art) hopefully conveys the impression of moving along at eye-level with the Good Friday full moon – view constantly bouncing due to varying swag of heavy black power lines. What a start to a weekend camping trip with a loooong drive down to Seminole Canyon State Park (West of Del Rio Tx). Who knew Austin’s I-35 offered a moon-viewing deck?
April 14, 2019. Recently I had the opportunity to sit in silence by a campfire, letting the dancing flames erase just about every thought … then present a face smiling at me from a burning log. Not a laughing grin … a serene smile. Apart from the added circle, this image is what my phone captured. The next morning I stared again at the face, recalling how it had indeed smiled all the way to sudden collapse. The haiku here is the result of multiple revisits to figure out just what message to take from that smile.
Maybe you will see a different message.
April 7, 2019. No, nothing to do with martial arts!
One week into Poetry Month, and under the influence of an evocative SoulCollage® group session yesterday, I take my stand – as poet, yes, but not just poet – as creative human giving creativity space, attention, support to flourish.
A word about SoulCollage® – a Jungian therapy process developed by Seena Frost – I’ve been practicing this since 2007. It’s something you DO as opposed to read about, but if curious, go here: https://www.soulcollage.com/
This image is a collage for four SoulCollage cards created yesterday. Image details were clipped from calendar/magazine pages and pieced together intuitively. Each of the four cards (5×8″) can be “read” – imagery speaking to whatever inside me chose and arranged the pieces. Collectively, they delivered this poem.
March 28, 2019. Spring has announced herself with an abundance of green coming up through dried leftovers of prior green frozen to the ground. Lots to clean up in the yard! I tackled the crinum bed alongside driveway a bit at a time to avoid arthritic reaction to the necessary bending, stooping at unusual angles. This poem emerged from the meditative nature of putting face repeatedly near earth … plus it was Mother’s birthday. The following day, my email brought me the poem Earth Song – including:
Those who are dead are never gone;
The dead are not down in the earth:
They are in the trembling of the trees
Indeed, Mother was right there with me in the crinums’ upward thrust.
Crinums produce large lily-like blooms – mine are a vivid pink, prolific come June.
I’m unable to find a direct link to Earth Song, Traditional from Senegal. I received it via Panhala – to subscribe, send a blank email to:
March 13, 2019. Another rainy morning, not quite so cold as the December morning I wrote this poem. But the same mood prevails upon me, upon the Labrador. We both seem inclined to sit peacefully and just observe.
Thank you, Ken Gierke, for pointing me to GIMP for photo manipulation. I like its “waterpixels” effect, appropriate for the scene, the mood.
February 19, 2019. Right about now as I’m posting this, the Super Moon is extremely close to full. It’s daylight and raining, so no right-now photos! Last night She was close enough to full to have a pull on my senses, and to fill my camera. There was a high thin cloud cover moving in, producing a haze which seemed to enhance the overall glow. Intoxicating to stand in the chill, neck twisted at various angles, seeking the best shot through bare tree limbs. The image here is a collage of the best moon uncluttered and the best branches-over-moon.
There have been a number of love poems floating around lately, Valentines of one sort or another. I think this is one of those anothers.
February 12, 2019. Now and then a poem emerges in response to something I’ve read. This is one of those – from puzzling over what Robert Okaji might’ve been thinking when he wrote Window Open, Closed. Realities include Robert’s poem, listening to Alan Watts, and the imagery. Our bay tree suffered heavily in 2018’s freeze, and though now only a fraction of its former size, the image reflects its determination to keep flavoring our suppers. The photo collage includes a prior moon and prior clouds.
Read Robert’s poem here: https://robertokaji.com – click HOME and scroll down to Window Open, Closed.
Listen to Alan Watts “Let Go Of Attachment” on http://www.youtube.com.