Art & Photography

Turning Fifty

It is not a mile marker; it is a milestone.

It is not a corner to turn; it is a crossroads.

It is not kindergarten, or teen angst, or a driver’s license, or a first vote, or a first drink, or a rental car, or an age of “something.”

It is all those things rolled into one leading up to this point on the path of sidewinding life.

Life renews now for something grander than before.

Growing pains have vanished while the lines of wisdom gain momentum with exuberant beauty.

It is a midpoint in this thing we call life counting high towards 100.

Always reaching! Always thinking positive!

It is Tin, atomically speaking, when in its solidified pure state reflects as a mirror seeing the reflection of yourself as “fifty-fifty.”

It is golden, a jubilee of life shimmering as the sun rises at dawn.

It is a collection of states, United that is, where every experience in your life happens somewhere, and is tied to a unique, specific place nestled in the photo box in your mind.

Vision and hearing seem to begin a slow decline with shiny spectacles and louder volume as accoutrements to enhance the evolved view of the wonderful world mixed with the sagacity and savvy plucked along the way.

Thirty was denial, Forty was scary, Fifty is freedom.

100 School Days

Last week, our Kindergartners celebrated the 100th day of school and I wrote this poem for them.

 100 School days…
 A number larger than ones and tens we would say.
 
 Oh, a number so big!
 It even makes us dance a jig.
 
 How much have we learned along the way?
 Many colors like red, blue, green, and even gray.
 
 100 words read by bright light.
 100 words we recognize by sight.
 
 Counting to 100 on the path we stayed.
 How many ten frames is 100, Oops, we will save that for another grade.
 
 100 CVC words such as…c…a…r.
 Sounding it right, makes us all shining stars.
 
 Our teachers provided us all the tools for our brains.
 Where we all have made lots of reading and math gains.
 
 100 School days have passed,
 Always practicing our writing with sky, fence, and grass.
 
 100 School days smarter are we!
 Dancing in celebration with utter glee.
 
 100 School days…Not letting our teachers down.
 Today, proudly wearing our 100 School days crown. 

Shadow Souls

The bird’s shadow shown on the drawn shades like a movie reel playing a film of somber silhouettes.

The cat looks on in wonder, excitement, and amazement because the bird appears to be closer than before as the day dusks down with the setting sun.

The bird chirps outside unaware of the foe lurking, watching, and waiting.

The cat chatters with uncontrollable delight as the shadow prey grows larger each minute.

Does a possibility exist for the bird to be caught by the cat?

If the cat claims the shadow bird, does the bird’s soul cease to be while the bird outside flies away ceaselessly unaware of the devourment of his soul?

Once the sun has set and the moon creeps high in the sky, only the feline fatale knows whether their shadow selves have become one and intertwined.

The Blind Promise

After 49 years of marriage, surprising Cassandra, the obstinate, was difficult.  She has always had a logical brain like a Vulcan, questioning me when I bring things up as if there is some conspiracy behind my actions.  Even when I proposed she asked, “Is that what I think it is?”

 On our fiftieth anniversary, I handed her a note.  Quizzically reading it aloud, “Blindly promise to take me somewhere next Saturday.  No questions.” She agreed hesitatingly.

Saturday morning arrived; bags were secretly packed in the trunk.  “Where am I taking you?” she asked with probing skepticism. 

“Airport. We are celebrating our fiftieth in Alaska, travelling to your fiftieth state. I always promised we would meet your goal.”

“Alaska? You would have needed me to plan with you? You must be joking?!” Cassandra answered still questioning me.

With loving eyes, I said, “It is true I usually ask you to tell me what you want to see on trips, but this time, I wanted to just whisk you away to fulfill your dream.” Smiling with happy tears, she kissed me like we were teens, putting the car in reverse, heading out to the road fulfilling her blind promise to me so I could fulfill my promise to her.

The Watery Dance in Key Largo

Dancing waters play a continuous tune

Washing away each day’s rays waiting for the moon.

 

Seas so clean like looking through a thin piece of glass,

Rocks and sandy floors seen as eyes pass.

 

To and fro the waves “cha cha” as they crest,

Some larger seeming like bigger steps giving it zest.

 

Peeking into the aquatic world through goggling glasses like a window

Seeing coral, shells, fish, and an occasional barracuda on the go.

 

Other creatures creep in this deep –

Jelly fish, nurse sharks, and manatees sometimes even peep.

 

The sea is their dance floor

As humans and birds look on from the shore.

 

Peaceful music kept on repeat

Leaving the watery bliss always available on beat.

Displaced

schooldoor

I wrote this poem back in May during the “Safer at Home” time.  I was missing being at school with all of the teachers and students.  A virtual meeting with a few teachers brought this “displaced” feeling to the forefront to bring about this poem.  We discussed what really is the heart of the school – the people who come in and out every day. Enjoy!!

Does a school have a heart?
Does it reside without people only in part?

Is it more like a rib cage surrounding the beating muscle?
Or do the teachers pump the energy in and out as they hustle and bustle?

Brick and mortar prolong the life by standing tall.
However, the little ones ignite life by flowing through the halls.

Two months have passed, almost three
Of missing beautiful smiles and minds of wonderment and glee.

Distance will finally come and go,
Holding on to wait until the world says so.

A building is just an empty shell with a face.
Right now, its heart is only temporarily displaced.

Connections

Dominos
In this time of separation,
Remember the intention.
Especially now, there is no time for rejection.
Hold onto your connections!

Connections are now different than before.
They take place behind a closed door.
Away from the maddening crowd of our yore
Voice and virtual command our communication floor.

These times should make you appreciate
Everyone to whom you relate
Whether by blood or fate.
Cling to your connections beyond the expiration date…

Of our locked in world right now and here.
This is only temporary, so please persevere.
Situations are dynamic and eventually move behind us somewhere,
But your connections are static always needing your care.

NYC Sounds

In the early minutes of morning twilight,
There is a certain quiet that lingers.
In the distance, you can just hear
The subway’s wheels screech
Like an owl landing on its prey.

As the dawn breaks,
The hustle and bustle of heartbeats
Move throughout the city –
Getting to coffee shops
Getting to work
Getting to school

Moving to and fro,
Meeting deadlines.
Tourists add to the foot pounding beat on the pavement.
The noises of walking, running, traffic, and talking loiter
Into the twilight of the evening just before dusk.

In places like Times Square,
The buildings come alive
As the lights switch on
Around 42nd Street and Broadway.

Even in Central Park,
The rhythmic patterns exist
With the squirrels frolicking,
Pigeons cooing,
The hot dog vendors selling,
The skaters at the rink swishing,
And organ music of the carousel
Adds a whimsical childlike tune of yesteryear.

The sounds of people never stop,
Repeating over and over,
A similar song from day to day…

Except for that brief period of the morning before dawn.

Ravens of the Ravine

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Out west, there exists the ravens three,
Scavenging o’er the discarded things from thee.

Hildebrand, Rivi, Utaznemco combine the trio
Who fly high and low searching for their foe.

These juvenile birds call the unsuspecting wolf to a carcass they found.
Through trickery, the wolf serves as their assistant slicing open the lifeless mound.

Once the wolf departs, they attack the carnage left with no care,
Barely allowing each other a small share.

Up and down the ravine they search
For the unwanted leftover edibles thrown out as they stop and perch.

The ravine provides a store to survive as of late
As the ravens three begin a search for their lifelong mate.

They go their separate ways on this date
For staying all three as one was never their fate.

The Sneer of the Illuminous Eyewitness

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Oh, my dear,
Throughout the years
You caress the night with your tumultuous tears.

As the moon leers
With suspicious eyes and haunting sneers,
She threatens to reveal your sins and fears.

Your prudent pact for which you adhere,
With yourself you try and stay clear,
But she saw your devilish design and aloud she wants to cheer.

Illuminating the night, she jeers,
Keeping the memory of the one you made disappear,
Leaving you continuously avoiding the truth as you steer.

The lies to all you engineer,
Craving the dawn every morning of the year,
Waiting for the instant she can’t interfere.

Madness ensues as you persevere,
Forgotten items become vivid clues being too cavalier.
Hence, insanity rules your atmosphere.

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