Tags: photography, poetry, Friday Byways

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I have many old poems for this months theme over at Sonnet's Saturday Sound. Here are just a couple.

Living in the Moment

As a child, I would hide away

Within the venerable civilization of trees

There was an invisible line at the edge of our property

Once crossed, all yelling and fighting would cease

I would step into the

Flute-like call of a soulful owl

Rise of loquacious locusts

Like steam after a summer rain

Then their sinking hush as I drew near

Creek spilling through pine roots

Weaving around fallen trees

Creating swirling stages of leaves dancing

Ceremoniously, at the end of their day

Like the wind-up music box ballerina

That played Lara’s Theme

Pine needles, bark, and cones that scented bare feet

Wafting woodland perfume

Infusing a musty certitude

I used to wonder about

Never going home

Living on dew berries and Honey Locust nuts

Like the people who lived here before

Pine bark boats

With a leaf for a sail

Where would they end up?

Drifting

Making birds, nests, and eggs

From the creek bed’s clay

I lived in the moment

Though, it eventually dried, crumbled

I cried

Now, I keep returning to the forest

Searching for that world

Where I lived in the moment, but

My head won’t be silent

Yelling and fighting, though I live alone

Tags: digital art, poetry, Saturday Sound

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Tags: digital art, drawing, Saturday Sound, Spirit Free's Surreal Art

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These pics were taken in my garden.



And, this is the reason why I've not been online much lately.



This garden is named Ilma's Garden, after the woman who originally started it.



I love scented geraniums, and...



have them all around my front porch.



In the spring, I can sit out on my front porch...



without being attacked by mosquitoes.



or in the grass next to Ilma's Garden,...



enjoy a cool breeze,...



and get excited about all my little seedlings that are sprouting. These will be sunflowers pretty soon.

Tags: photography, garden, flowers

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This is a repost from December of '08. The first poem, I thought would fit the theme "music of the night" over at Sonnet's Saturday Sound.

Friday, December 5, 2008

Tags: digital art, poetry, Sonnet's Saturday Sound

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Metapsychology of a dream
So terrifying I can’t scream.
Against demons there in, I strain.

Within the mattress on which I lie,
Metaphysical hands stand by,
To paralyze me and restrain.

Supernatural strength pulls me down,
Squeezing me when you hit the ground
I watch them inflict you with pain.

Vainly struggling eternally
Again and again, voicelessly,
Repeatedly watching you wane.

Aware it’s a dream, but cannot wake.
Trapped in a death scene-helpless state
Between reason and the inane.

This is a rewrite of an old poem that I'm posting for Sonnet's Saturday Sound.

Tags: Art, Saturday Sound. Poetry,

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During the early 80’s, I drove four hours every day, two hours each way, in rush hour traffic to attend high school downtown. At that time, the boom-town oil rush of the 70’s left Houston’s freeways plagued with a stifling bumper-to-bumper 20 mph stop-n-go crawl. There were bumper stickers that read, “Will the last one out of Michigan, please turn out the lights?” it wasn’t just Michigan, though. There were probably just as many out-of-state license plates as there were Texas plates. At 16, I learned how to drive in this traffic.

I carpooled with three other classmates of mine in a ’72 Dodge Dart, that one of the girls christened “The Hippy Mobile”. The actual christening was another story that I won’t go into here. Suffice it to say that this fire red Hippy Mobile was well suited for four teenage girls in rush hour traffic. The scratches and dents just added to its personality.

I left my house every morning at 6am to pick up the others, and didn’t get home until 6pm, so all our after school free time was spent driving. We quickly found ways to entertain ourselves. Groucho Marx glasses and hand puppets would solicit some pretty humorous reactions in the morning. After school though, a six pack of beer and a bag of Doritos while waving at all the truck drivers was the entertainment of choice. My friends like to see how many of the truckers they could get to honk their horns.

The morning rush hour mentality was different from the afternoon’s. In the morning, people were sleepy and distracted. They would be reading the newspaper or putting on make-up in the rear view mirror while driving. We were rear-ended many times, but in stop-n-go traffic, it was more of an annoyance than a fender bender. Nine times out of ten, it wasn’t worth stopping for. One day, we came up with the idea of having one person sit in the driver’s seat reading the newspaper, while I sat beside her and drove with my left hand and foot (the Hippy Mobile didn’t have bucket seats; it had one long bench seat). We thought the double-takes of the other drivers were hysterical.

In the afternoons however, people were tired, cranky, and in a hurry to get home. The unintentional accidents of the morning became intentionally rude road rage in the afternoon, hence the creation of the Asshole List (please pardon my language here; we were just teenagers). Yes, we kept a score card above the sun visor to track all the incidents. Here’s how it worked: An asshole was worth 1 point, and was someone who would cut you off and then drive slower than the rest of traffic especially in the left lane. A total asshole was 2 points, and was someone who’d cut you off, and you would have to swerve or slam on your breaks to avoid hitting them. A complete fuck up was 3 points, and was someone who actually hit you, ran you off the road, or tried to run you off the road in a fit of rage. For example, those idiots who don’t care to merge safely, because they don’t want anyone to get in front of them. After about six months, we figured up the totals and found we averaged about 17 points per week. Unfortunately, my dad found the list one day, and took it away. He didn’t think the language was appropriate for young ladies, and tried to scold me for it, but couldn’t keep a straight face. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took it to work with him the next day to show the guys in his carpool.

Well, here it is thirty years later, and Houston’s freeways have finally caught up with its population. Even though there’s still construction on many of the freeways, there’s no more stifling stop-n-go traffic except after an accident. One would think that the driving attitudes would improve with the progress, but apparently not. I still see road rage on a daily basis.

The other day, I was driving in the left lane, getting ready to pass a silver SUV and the 18 wheeler in front of him, when suddenly the “2 pointer” SUV pulled over in front of me, causing me and the cars behind me to slam on their brakes. Generally in most states, the left lane is for passing. Slower traffic is supposed to keep right, but Mr. 2 Pointer must have felt he was the exception to this common courtesy, because he continued to go the same speed as the 18 wheeler that was still in the lane to his right. The cars behind me cut over two or three lanes to the right to get around them. I decided to wait and see if he would eventually speed up. He did, and I followed him. When I was even with the cab of the 18 wheeler, Mr. 2 Pointer cut back over to the right in front of the 18 wheeler, revealing to me the road construction that was ending my lane. I didn’t have time to stop, so I sped up to get in front of the 18 wheeler. Apparently angry about the SUV, the 18 wheeler sped up also, and intentionally hit me, because he didn’t want me to get in front of him as well, making him Mr. 3 Pointer.

The rage of these two men spreads like the swine flu across our freeway systems, infecting everyone who comes near. It’s a highly contagious, ugly, angry, porcine disease, and now I have it too. I’m afraid to drive, afraid of acting just like them. So, I’ve decided to start another list, to try to make fun of the situation. I’m trying to make light of things like we did in high school. It’s the only way I know how to work through this kind of anger. This time I’m calling it the Cretoron List. I made the name up from the words ‘moronic cretin’. The words seem more descriptive than the previous list’s words. Here’s how it works: A Cretoron is 1 point, a Gross Cretoron is 2 points, and an Utter Noxiousile (from the words ‘obnoxious imbecile’) is 3 points. The standards for scoring are the same. If anyone would like to play along, feel free to leave your scores here in the comment section on Fridays.

Tags: driving, venting road rage

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nature of identity

mirroring antique anger
at an ontological vanity
elaborately Victorian

tearing tangles from my hair
with silver inlay brush
applying nightmarish
clown-faced foundation
to ancient scars
in my dusty sunbeam room

rituals in preparation for
an anthropological ball

Tags: poetry, digital art,

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This is for Sunny Sunday's theme of 'love'. The other day, my sweetie brought me this beautiful orchid you see here. I googled the language of flowers, and learned that orchids mean refined beauty, so I wrote this poem, and will make a card to give him.

Tags: poetry, photography, Sunny Sunday

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