words

Journey | 2015
a first photograph
exploring everything
drawing from life
imagining other worlds
keeping the company of bees, birds & books cats coming and going
dreaming of the future, looking forward

a struggling artist painting portraits teaching children

a father passing
end of innocence
surviving alone
saved by apple
defined by work
days by design
partner dances
traveling together
traveling alone
expanding vision
new horizons
montages emerging
family of friends
sharing ideas & journeys rediscovering music, finding a voice lovely ladies in Italy
colored brush strokes across Scotland farewell to old friends
returning to painting, finding joy coming home to myself
looking back...

 

...a final photograph to come.

 

The DOT
Department of transgressions,
Always a step behind.
Running late, limiting our mobility.
Out of sync with the speed of society
Slow to discover, what drives us
Bypassing a more moving truth.
Cannot authorize, disguise,
the seedier side of transportation.
Deliberate organization, structured by...
Tardiness, Tactlessness
Tribulations, Tickets
Moving violations.
A690 waiting, jammed in a crowd
trafficking in conversational vignettes...
Renewal of freedom
Licensed to thrill
Overcoming elderly errors
Explosive actions & road rage rising,
until we are transported

out of time & space.
All of the ordinary inconsequential souls
In line at the DOT.

 

ON THE PHONE
We are so connected.
By cell phone, by internet,
by standards of our making
Beyond trains & planes, emailed traces,

wthout faces. More connected, more dejected
More on our own than ever, no direction
All that lies beneath a screen addicted mind
The un-communicated hidden sound bytes,
No wire can reach, silent spaces

no network connection will interface

a heart & soul.

 

 

 

TENNIS
Partners volley,

love,
Deuce, no add,

we rally for more.

 

RECOGNITION
Ever and always alone
Like some memory living a life of its own
A Cheshire smile disturbs the air for Alice—
A flash, a connection, a reflection.
One old face searching for another.
No recognition.
Silent and forgotten,
novel lives unrecorded.
These stories we quietly live
every day.

 

GUINNESS
A perfectly poured pint
Nothing quite so satisfying
Motivating some inner poet to discourse
Of the chocolaty, velvety coat coming to the lips
The smooth memory lingers, visible & wet
Ask me if I care for anything else
that keeps me from tasting heaven.

LILACS
Nothing quite like the smell of lilacs
reminding me of home.
Shades of twilight—the fragrance and essence of rest.
Subtle intoxication floating across the air.
Hints of my mothers skin, soft & pale
Cold to touch but always there.
Each petal an unexpected tone from dusk to mid-night .
Hues of heaven—of my childhood & happier times.
Laughter and innocence.

 

 

.Lilac Petals

CLOSED
No one ever enters,

or gets too close.
To see the truth.
Windows, voyeurs.
Looking in, we look out

and close the blind.

 

ORDINARY
Gifts ignored, denied
Out of pride
Fear, not of failing, of surviving,
or thriving
Living up to being

something more than ordinary.

SNOW
It’s coming, another blizzard to cleanse this place.
Erasing decay, blinding brightness
so hard to see, its difficult to breathe.

Gasping the frozen air
It seems as though we will never survive

another winter in WIsconsin.
Until the persistent shoots of spring

penetrate the icy blanket

and bloom.

 

FIght for Spring

 


© 2016