Feb 20
Andrew J. NicewanderPhotographic Poetry Green, Lake, Lake Bistineau, Louisianna, Sunset, Water
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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! |
Feb 13
Andrew J. NicewanderPhotographic Poetry Death, Glendalough, Graves, Ireland, Lament, Mountains, Praise, Rocks
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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 |
Feb 09
Andrew J. NicewanderPhotographic Poetry Death, Ireland, Rock of Cashel, Time, Worship
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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 |
Jan 16
Andrew J. NicewanderPhotographic Poetry Beauty, Life, Light, Newgrange, Warmth
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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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Jan 11
Andrew J. NicewanderPhotographic Poetry Beauty, Connemara, Contentment, Ireland, Patience
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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 |
Dec 11
Andrew J. NicewanderPhotographic Poetry Fog, Photography, Poetry
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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 |
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