Tag Archives: photography

Soaking Senses

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11/11/14

There’s always a slowing down of time when the Universe plays its hand
Vision blurs into a drunken lapse of connection
As the last seconds of every whispering thought
float in and out
From those who pass by; gnat-like noises to buzz into the mind
Their penetrating musings muffled by the compilation of instruments composing stereo emotions and feelings
In my left ear and my right ear jointly, and separately, as I
investigate the audio stimulation (versus the intruding glances that I turn my eyes against)

Chance hollers out, seemingly always unexpected, and
Awareness is interrupted by my flustered responses;
heart racing to catch up to the unpredictability of the moment,
pupils enlarge as I squint from the commitment of answering the nagging mouth of a limitless curiosity
I’ve never retained an imagination capable of ignoring even the most unwelcomed sides of all of the angles of questioning,
for too long

Now, focusing in on the details of the shape
A picture that’s ironically freeze-framed into my view
There are no “Hi, how are you?” or, “My name is…” awkward dronings
There is only the inconsistency of time when two consciousnesses collide into one
A few seconds of riding the tidal wave to shore within the ocean of reality
Soaking senses with the intensity of the change in the air
and how it feels

Everything stops and
we stare

Calling for the willpower of concentration, while maintaining gratitude for the fortune of this gift of an intangible absurdity
Meanwhile,
Memorizing the particulars to mentally store the answers to the questions not quite thought up yet
The discovery of another or, at least something like it
Until time speeds up with the blinding state of determination
Its eyes glazed over as it greedily attempts to account for its precious lost minutes

Such a finger of fate trying to erase any trace of remembrance of the two people who stepped outside of time;
confused into accepting the responsibility of understanding that we’re not alone…

…even if we become lost and forgotten after the weight of acknowledgement disappears into the normalcy of the continuation into the
seconds to minutes to hours to days to weeks to months to years

I am grateful for the good times ❤

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The Little Girl

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There is a little girl with blonde pigtails

and white ribbons, wearing

A frilly blue dress adorned with a

red nautical helm

Maybe five, by chance six

Staring blankly through the

photograph

 

“All the world knows is only

what we can see

All the words we speak, clearly

are only heard by any of the

random opportunities given

Who would listen to a few questions?”

 

She asks in her little girl

squeaky voice

 

“Are we so quick to deny any

interpretations different

That we can ignore the

explanations floating on

the tips of our tongues

Shut out the chances of awareness?

Wave your hand, stand up to meet

the people just out of reach

Wake up, open your eyes

to see the ones staring at you.”

 

Maybe I’m going crazy

maybe I’m going blind

Maybe the little girl speaking is

only a figment of my vapid

imagination

Maybe someone is listening

on the other side;

maybe another lost soul

in an altered time?

 

The picture sits in a book with

other similar photos of other

People with their smiling faces peering out and

saving some of the stories long forgotten

 

“Until next time…”

 

She says,

As I box away the memories

Adding a few additional pieces

to contemplate and to store inside;

A metaphorical reflection created of a mirrored image of

the cardboard container

 

“Goodbye”

 

I whisper.

And the little girl waits until she

is remembered again…

I am grateful for lost treasures ❤

Winter

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Eerily quiet

In a way that escapes the modern ear,

typically

A blank canvas filled in with white

A bold emptiness inviting anyone

to create a mark

Or to fill a hole

Whether the colors resemble anything

remotely perceptible

Some, hear the saxophone lulling into the night

With a heavy heart of understanding

outlined in the pinkish hue of love

The echoes vibrating off of the porcelain keys

A duet of hauntingly beautiful music

to complement the mood

Others, afraid of the uncertain

See darkness in nothing at all

No direction nor meaning

No sound, no saturation, no feelings

A mysterious sullen shade of

shadows and silhouettes

Misunderstood, perhaps

Wintertime is merely the feminine

shifting of emotions

Of acknowledging the

empathy for the differences that unify

everyone of us

A season of physical touch and self-awareness;

A memory of warmth and of the

glowing sun.

I am grateful for  John Coltrane’s “Everytime We Say Goodbye” ❤