Photographic Poetry
Photographic Poetry – “A Short Story of The Green”
Feb 20th
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| The Green is approaching, advancing, converging, its tendrils are growing, its fingers enclosing, surrounding my frame The Green is encroaching, impinging, infringing, its lusts never slaking, desires ever growing, Begon Devil Weed! My fate I’m addressing, accepting, submitting, to where I am going?, for what I am living?, my life is depressing, The Green’s swimming nigh! |
Photographic Poetry – “A Short Story of the Witness of the Rocks”
Feb 13th
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| For eons long I’ve seen the stewards of the world live cruel, rebellious lives The irony’s not lost on my as still I stand while all of they with good, divine responsibility have felt the weight of their rebellion claim the life that they were granted by their kind, Creator King For me and all my brethren tall are groaning quite majestically as we experience effects of sins of little men although we try with all our given strength to sing the praise of He who fashioned us when life was young, before the birth of all humanity But in the death of He who my Creator sent, the little men, my stewards small, have found the only hope to live for all eternity, when sky and ground are made anew, when wickedness has disappeared and they are free from sin’s effects, in sweet communion with my Good, Creator King |
Photographic Poetry – “A Short Story on the Ravages of Time”
Feb 9th
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| The gnarled ravages of time have worked their foul and terrifying magic, most insidiously thorough in their deconstructing work Where once were Keeps and Bastions tall and fiercely bright now meekly stand defiant stones in dying rest, poor serfs of time, that cruel exacting lord I long have lain upon this Rock, though once I lived upon the peak of warm, inviting halls, where members of humanity brought worship to their God above, where Kings and Monarchs once ruled o’er all the green, pastoral lands near round about, where now a recollection floats in time and space, remembering the golden days of mirthful joy gone softly, slowly by And still that cold, unfeeling lord is marching on with I myself a slave unto its cruel and hateful work |
Photographic Poetry – “A Short Story of Warming Light”
Jan 16th
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I feel a steady warmth alighting on my supple back Its peaceful tendrils coaxing me to life as deep I drink its offered salve, my fast I’m breaking with the dawning of the morn I turn around to live the day, my brothers ‘bout me focused as they face as one into the gift of sweet and warming light
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Photographic Poetry – “A Short Story of Natural Contentment”
Jan 11th
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I stand here perched by lough and sliabh A puny soul both ably blessed and slyly cursed I’ll never be as grand as all the stony mountains great nor peaceful as the lovely lake that sits below in noble calm tranquility But still I glory in my place, to view the beauty round about my growing wooden frame: the balded hills, the woolly trees and waters cool and sweet And so I’m thankful to my Maker for the life I calmly, slowly live |
Photographic Poetry – A Short Story of Floating Precipitation
Dec 11th
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| My members float in flaccid, relaxing placidity I skim my brother’s surface in patient calm existence The light in sudden, terrifying fury blows through the bows of they we feed to guard my melancholy frame The pain is fierce, excruciating hell; my senses are aflame, my mind is growing numb as death approaches nigh… I’m melting softly in the cruel, awaking day |
Photographic Poetry – A Short Story of a Hill
Dec 5th
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My memory runs long and deep… Past times when men were made as kings, who ruled upon my sweeping mound and then they died and passed me by… Past times when fires came ablaze in worship to the little gods of little men who bled and died and passed me by… Past times when forests blanketed my shallow slopes, when herds of deer ran in their primal glee, their rompus I rejoiced to see… Though men forget, I still remember He who fashioned me with artistry both beautiful and power-filled… My memory, you see, runs long and deep. |
Photographic Poetry – A Short Story of Battle
Dec 1st
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My glass heart beats a chaotic rhythm of anxious excitement My mind’s aflutter with images of death and glory soon to be My brothers in arm stand to my right and to my left, as confidently frightened as am I The enemy opposed prepare themselves to battle on the crystal field that stretches forth between advancing hordes The Battle soon will be deployed |
Photographic Poetry – A Short Story of a Basketball Rim
Nov 27th
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With harsh and stern ferocity, the hot West Texas sun beats down upon my strong and ironed rim with mean consistent constancy
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