This topic isn’t new to many of us. If you’ve taken an art history class or attended some form of art appreciation conference, fundraiser, auction, convention and the list goes on…you’ve probably seen or at least heard the topic flutter pass your ears.

But I’m not here to talk about how art enhances poetry (which it does). Or how we should see more of it in our college criteria in the way that it’s relatable to the present generation (which we should). But rather I want to give a short blurb on the curious effect of art and poetry.

I love photography. my Instagram bares testament to that. I love poetry just as much as I love photography which we know goes in many ways hand and hand. Oddly enough, I’ve only recently combined the two…and I am please to say that my paradigm has shifted entirely.

Before I focused on lightening, ambience and the potential to relay a story without words when selecting a potential subject for my daily shoots. I now subscribe myself to three questions before closing the shutter.

1. Does the image create poetry?  I don’t simple want to look at the image and think, ‘great photo!’ I need to hear riveting words trickle through my brain as if life was flowing to me.

2. Is it relatable?  I’m a pretty eccentric person. So as much as I would like think that every person should understand me…I know that’s not true. Thus I do a few test reads before posting online. It helps though we know everyone is a critic and some allowance must be given. 

3. Is it enjoyable?  There’s nothing more dismal than a boring poem that is accompany by a boring picture. Sad really. But I have found that by joining poetry with still life art…the process itself has become more invigorating. Exciting, right? There’s nothing more devastating to an artist than to lose its muse…so if it works, it works.

Yes I know…you’ve heard this before. I hope you don’t mind hearing it again.

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How wondrous you are, o fair Moon
Your shining light woos me near
The star lights warn me of eminent doom
But they see not, the flames within me sears

Though my eyes see evidence of your ill will charms
My heart flutters without reason or calm
and has brought my peers to great alarm
But you, o Moon are my soothing psalm

Free me o’ lovely Moon from your luminous gaze
Though my friends proclaim your light insidious and fake
It is worthy of all my love and praise
Even if my heart be poisoned or staked

Time drifts as I come nearer
Your light fades, my mind clearer
The darkness surrounds you is far queerer
As the shade around seems a mirror

My family calls and I look away
The rosy illusion has become ashen gray
I watch in envy as they drift away
The rumors of love becomes foul play

Your face becomes clear as does your light
Simply reflecting, holding your blight
My time has ended, your rocks draw near
As the last of my love becomes a solitary tear
———-

I hope you enjoy this poem. I wrote it as a illusive translation of some riveting events that’s recently occurred in and around my life.

Sometime you just never know which light is real and which is fake.

(shooting star photo and prompt from Carpe Diem Haiku Kai)

When reality doesn't match your dreams

When reality doesn’t match your dreams

So lately, I’ve determined that I like so many others in my shoes and in the age bracket of 25-35 are at a place in their life where a dawning realization comes to the front of all things conscious and forces you to really take inventory of life’s events.

I am normally a “live by the day,” type of person, but for whatever reason unbeknownst to me, my inner man has decided to remind me that I am not in the place I visually imagined for myself. When confronting such things, I often visualized a man in his fifties who suddenly decides to leave his family, quit his job and move to another country (yes, I am being very dramatic.) But there you have that’s what I imagine so that which solid reasoning I am able to successfully push down that ever confronting thought that my ideals are actually not apart of my reality.

It’s quite depressing. Perhaps I am alone in this concept, but I have this strong assumption that I have a purpose on this earth that is uniquely suited to me and for me only to perform. I am not just a normal 9-5 office worker going through the same mundane conundrums of everyday life that I circle around continually.  Surely I will one day strike up a million dollar company (though money has never been a major concern) and feature in a magazine as a first time…”insert amazing feat here!” …Right?

I pray I am not the ONLY person looking around themselves wondering if this is all I will surmount to…are there no valuable things in me? The more I ponder, the more I panic, the more I sink into a solemn depression. Until one day, I decide that my reality doesn’t have to match my dreams. Life isn’t so bad after all. I travel, I write, I work, I take out times with my dogs, I paint, I socialize, I write blogs like this with hopes someone will read them and give me a virtual high five…and life still isn’t so bad.

I’m not making six figures yet, but I’m not homeless or in poverty. I decided the best way to avoid these personal hiccups that everyone have a tendency of calling restlessness is by first praying and appreciating what’s before me.

If I always look to the sky for a spectacular future then I risk missing the present and all the key factors and moments that could eventually lead to that future.

I can’t say I’m happy where I am. Happiness is temporal thing. But I can say I am joyfully content. Oxymoron? Contradicting? Maybe, but I never said this would be simple.

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One evening after work, I made way to the downtown fresh market to prepare for a dinner party I was having the next day.

I went in armed with my list to keep me from going astray and a small tote to carry my spoils back to my cute little chevy.

As someone that likes to think of themselves as a helpful person, I have often asked God to give me an opportunity to be an extention of His kindness…and yet often times when it came I’m usually lost in the throngs of my own worries and problems.

But on this particular day, my mind was clear and set for the upcoming event.

Unfortunately, after getting the bulk of my goods, I began to browse around and it was at that time I met a woman whose husband had hurt his back and was unable to accompany her to buy groceries.

Since they were relatively new to town and starting over they had no transportation. She told me she had asked 6 different people for help and 6 people denied her.

By the time she reached me she was almost desperate. I agreed to her. I didn’t get any bad feeling and she seemed genuine. I know a lot of you right now are thinking, “Yeah they always seem genuine at first.” Well she was!

When we approached the counter she turned around and bought all of my grocery as a thank you for my kindness. I was floored!

We exchanged contact and I saw her safely home.

My point in this is that not everyone is a thief or murderer or have evil intention. At one point in time, this nation was about helping not getting; giving not obtaining. Wicked people usually are those who at some point were hurt or misguided in life.

My goal is to be a blessing and a positive encounter to people regardless of what I may be going through.

What about you? Have you extended kindness today? 🙂

I wanted to start a poetic series but I wasn’t sure how and what topic. Ironically while debating on the genre, this poem began to formulate in my mind. So while this isn’t part one of a serious (Though it has the potential to become a series), I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

 

Down to the darkest abyss
Here’s a tale you’ll never forget
Unless you fall into the pit
The one that brings out your worst fears

There is a secret you’re sure to know
A source that’s more than any gold
Wipe that sneer, you’ve been told
There’s a hell you may come to know

Arrogant, gallant, high in the air
Watch your pride go and bring a standstill
Fight for what you want
Believe in what you believe

Your light of glory will surely fail
At the wondrous sight you’ll see
Shall I say you are grand?
No, that would be deceit

This magnificent glow is fair you see
It spreads and strikes with fear
But h how it pulls you in
and how it burns and sears

This is the end my fellow friends
But here’s a word to the wise
Keep wide your heart and strong your mind
As life pulls you around

Whether up or down, good or bad
Time will surely state
Will you fall into Heaven’s grace
Or burn in Hell’s embrace 

How you torment me o false star!
Making empty promises and lethal threats
You shine so bright, but oh how you are cold
The heat that follows you gives you no warmth
A cold hallow fire that makes false light
Yet you dare fake star to make yourself bright
Using plight souls as your inner shine
How wicked you are, dim star
Using words that bares you no resemblance
Yet you are determine to wreck me of sleep and peace
Hear me o’ lost star, I pity you
For no love comes to you
Forever frozen, love spares you no peace

As the new year begins, I would like to encourage and wish all a happy new year.

As the new year begins, it is my greatest hope to inspire and share likeness in taste, literature, and opinion once again and dare I say – with greater attention than before.  While I cannot say that I entered my new year with a bang or with much noise and excitement, but I did enter it with much joy and careful thought.

I have nothing further to say, but I can’t wait to see what other posts others have to share

Happy New Years My Friends

 

You might read that opening title and think, ‘is this person a dare devil or an adrenaline junkie?”

I am neither.

What is this about then? Other people who stare death in the face without realizing it.  The idea came from while I was driving to Jackson, TN for a weekend intensive conference (which is still ongoing, by the way), I watched as car after car after SUV after truck after eighteen wheelers (really!?) perform near miss as they weaved in and out of traffic. 

Let me tell you, the speed limit is 70 mph going along I-40 once you reach Madison County and I was going 80 (which wasn’t fast enough, apparently).  I’m driving and it just seemed like someone let loose some kind of toxic fog, because one minute I’m driving with the flow of traffic and suddenly people are on a mad spree barely missing other vehicles as they attempt to reach mach one in speed.

The scariest moment for me was when I was 15 miles outside of Jackson.  This black Mazda was speeding along pass me.  He barely (and I do mean barely) had room to merge to the Left lane without clipping the front of his vehicle and possibly ending in a disastrous out of control spiral.  

I’m thinking, this guy isn’t that crazy. He was. He sped up and cut in front of me, leaving one inch between himself and the back end of an eighteen wheeler. My heart dropped as I saw this. I couldn’t help think that if he had sped up a little too much he would have hit the eighteen wheeler and either swung into a ravine on his right, or into my car to his left possibly resulting in a pile up and a spot light on the 5′ o clock news.

Thankfully, none of the two happened.

So I suppose in a sense, I (consciously) stared death in the face, while they just kind of missed it as they swung passed his welcoming arms.

While I was reading a Japanese graphic novel, one of the character made  a comment that struck an philosophical nerve.

                       He said, “How easy it is for children to honestly express themselves.” 

He was brooding over his lack of ability to be honest with himself concerning his feelings about a young woman who he closely interacted with on a daily basis.  We might think that this type of problem is irrelevant to us as Americans, but I earnestly believe that every adult — young and old — reach a point in their life where they lose the ability to honestly express themselves concerning many factors  that make up the poetic motion of life. 

I am most certainly not completely and solely honest about all things in life and I have not yet met many who are…but like the character in the novel, I do believe that most children have the innate ability or rather innocence to verbally convey their feelings indecipherable as it may be — it is something to be valued.

These days, it seems as though values are steadily declining and honesty is becoming a distant fad.  This may not be prevalent in other cultures, but it’s a growing continuity in the U.S. 

Still I am optimistic. While many may not express themselves honestly — I feel that many of us still value the idea of honest, honor, truth — and that’s what matters. That’s what makes the difference. 

                    Image

While I was exploring the coastal beaches of Florida, I happened upon this embark in Clearwater.  I often visit different cities and habitats for inspiration in my writing or to grasp a setting a little better than relying on pure imagination. 

The wind was cool and the skies were gray. The people were scattered across the coast like Camden flowers. This little area was completely vacant, filled with a quiet solitude accompany by the anxious waves crashing against the bank. 

I inhaled; the salt air filled my lunges, sprinkles of water floating in the air softly caressed my skin. I was in a heaven that no one but myself could accessed.  It was mine and mine alone.

I was without sound or movement for about five minutes. That short time was the most therapeutic, most relaxing, and dare I say alluring span of time in my life.