Tag Archives: beauty

Chapter 2 – To Ninni, My Big Sister

2 Sep

I will not verse on your beauty

For surely it has, and will inspire

Many a poet to match in metaphor

That which the artist’s eye does seek

I shall not write about your generosity

Though it has been plentiful

And gratefully received

You’ve given freely without reserve

While I am able

To give you only these

Simple words, spoken softly

Attempting to appease

The bestial sea

Between us

Perhaps one day

Salt water will carry you back to me

Chapter One – The Extraction

2 May

First and foremost, poetry is the song of my soul. It is a deeply felt, extremely personal expression of my own individual thoughts that arose from completely, absolutely unoriginal normal universal emotions. It is the instrument with which I actualize these emotions and the score is but a subjective reflection of my generation’s canon. Played out in short bursts of consciousness, imitated in intervals; the individual parts enter and exit with varying speed and pitch in virtual chaos discarding all measure of time. The final composition can only be appreciated first as a whole and then by the sum of its parts. It is a path to the Golden Mean. To beauty. To the meaning of life. It can be played backwards or inverted with corresponding reverberance. It is liquid, dynamic and fixed upon the page by a single clef contained within the staves. Notes unwritten until they are heard. Sounds unheard until the exhale and the push and the flow of time inhales them into existence. Do you recognize the melody?

With United Forces

An idiom by any other name would smell as sweet

11 Apr
Bluebonnets in spring

Nature abhors a vacuum

The juxtaposition of rock, decaying mulch and vibrant new plant life drew me to this area of the backyard very near where target practice is held. Every evening as the sun finally drops behind the wooden slatted fence, rays of light leak through and illuminate things I’ve never seen before. Things that are there every day but go unseen by anyone until I take a picture and share it. There is nothing else in this bed but more decaying mulch, a few empty pots and a fallen ornamental peacock. His pride prevented him from inclusion. I walk past this rock 16 times to the target after I shoot and 16 times when I return with my arrows. I walk past it 32 times a day, 224 times per week and 960 times per month and every day I see something new.

Mother’s jewels

The bluebonnet flowers have since been provided with rain and sprouted. The tiny droplets of water they caught more precious than diamonds. It’s the only plant I know of that holds water like the Star of India holds light. Their beauty too wild to confine to one garden; they’ve taken over the entire side of the back yard leaving me only a footpath to my target.  A path I’ve walked so many times the flowers learned to bloom around it, up to my knees though I never trampled them. Strange the other side of the yard is completely barren but for the weeds.

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