wade in the water children

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wordless wednesday #172: the fallen

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apparently picasa is in a mood

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If you're wondering where the photos are, Picasa Web albums is apparently having technical difficulties at present. Hopefully it'll be fixed soon.

Update: Google is aware of the problem (the Help Forum was stormed like the Bastille) and has created this post to keep updates coming. Meanwhile we wait and look at empty boxes.

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winter memories i

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TFE's Poetry Bus

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Chris at Enchanted Oak (there's your Technorati tag, you can thank me later) roped me into convinced me to take a ride on TOTALFECKINGEEJIT's Poetry Bus. Turns out the Bus is currently on tour and being hosted by various and sundry. This week our substitute driver is Rachel Fox who set forth a simple, if challenging theme. To wit:

1.Pick a favourite word. It can be a long word or a tiny word, a complicated word or a simple everyday one, a new word or something archaic that keeps trying to fall out of the dictionary. I really don't mind. Any word will do.
2.Write something using that word as your starting point. It can be a poem. But I use the term poem VERY loosely. Loose is good...in most instances.
3.Send me the link to your poem-post on Sunday 28th or Monday 29th March and I will add it to the Ramble Stop post on here. You can email me the link if you like (tidier...innit...send to author [at] crowd-pleasers [dot] net) or put it in the comments box here. I work different hours to our usual host-driver so if you send me something in UK daylight hours I will probably get to it fairly quickly but I don't work late into our night these days so if you send it during our (conventional) bedtime I won't get to it till the next morning. Just so you know. Plus we have family coming to visit on the Tuesday so I won't be doing much here that day either. OK?

I say simple because it isn't as if she looked up some esoteric SAT word to throw out there. I say challenging because it means selecting a single piece of meat from an endless buffet. And in the last couple of days a great many words have rumbled through this dusty attic I call a mind. So picking a particular dust bunny to elevate to prompt status wasn't an easy task. Nevertheless, the word "discovery" seems to have floated to the top of the pond more often than usual, so there we have it.

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Discovery

Watching my son
Discover his son
This new life
This new person
I think of all the
Fathers that came
Before him
Before me
Before even
My father
Introduced himself to me
In a way I imagine to be
Not very different
From what I am watching
Unfold before me

In that moment
When life is new
And you haven't yet
Had the chance
To do anything wrong
Your child, your bond
Your moment
Is perfect
Unblemished by
Misunderstanding
Or broken curfews
Or missed recitals
Possibility
Is limitless

For other links to this week's theme visit Rachel's Guest Driver Stop
This image and poem -- along with many others -- is featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

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(Just so you know: The two column layout isn't a literary device. It simply allows one to read the entire verse without scrolling. Nothing brilliant at work there I'm afraid.)

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father and son

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one single impression: avatar

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Dredging the mud
And silt below it
The ocean sets the table
For the hungry sandpiper
The bird knows what it knows
That the ocean will provide
The bird fears what it fears
That the ocean will also devour
If given the chance
The ocean, for its part
Simply does what it does
What it has always done
What it will always do
Rake the bottom

And deposit the catch
Along the shoreline
For any who come
The birds know this
They come to visit
Take their fill then leave
To flock with others of their kind
Leaving the ocean
To do what it does
Secure in the knowledge
That the ocean will be there
To do what it has always done
Perhaps this is the reason
The waves sigh

One Single Impression

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About this piece: In Hindu myth, an Avatar is a representation of Bhagwan (God) in some anthromorphic form. Hinduism is not -- as it is often thought -- a polytheistic religion. It is polymorphic, with the underlying principles being that Bhagwan may take any form, and that when humankind has needed it s/he has taken such a form and appeared among us. They are joined by Greeks, Romans, Egyptians and others throughout history who needed to put a face on the almighty. To translate the divine into terms they/we could understand. Similarly, we confer human attributes on everything from dogs to automobiles to oceans. Thinking about that is what led me to this piece. (You had to be there.)

About the photo: Taken at North Topsail Beach in July of 2009 just after sunrise. The ocean does indeed provide for us all. Even the photographer hungry for an image.

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meet brayden michael

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"Brayden Michael - 21 1/2" 8 lbs, 10 oz"
Raleigh, NC - 2053 hrs EDT 26 March 2010 (Click to embiggen)

I didn't take this one, it came direct from the delivery room. All reports are that mother and baby (and dad) are all well and fine. More details as they become available. And Grandpaparazzi won the pool with a guess of 21.5" and 8 lbs 7 oz. Looks just like his dad when he was born. Nothing's more life affirming than this.

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we have liftoff

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No details on specs yet, but Brayden Michael has finally taken his place among us. Unofficial time 2055 hrs 26 Mar 2010 (Update: Official time 2053). Stay tuned. More details as they become available.

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crowning achievement

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Best reports form the front line suggest that Young Sir is showing off his full head of hair. I'd say it shouldn't be long now, but I know better. This kid has already made it clear he's operating on his own schedule and will not be rushed. So we wait.

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getting down to business

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Okay, we're getting down to business now. There's pushing going on (which I'm quite sure is a relief for Baby Momma). And there's a race going on between her and the other girl whose family has taken over the other half of the waiting room. Won't be long now. My entry in the pool is 21.5" 8lbs 7oz.

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reflections: past, present, future

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This is a new experience for me. Every other time I've been in this place, I was a participant. Okay, as much of a participant as a father can be. You know what I mean. This time I'm not even really a spectator. Just sitting in this waiting room... waiting. Which anyone who knows me can tell you is something I'm way not good at. But an interesting thought just occurred to me. This new grandson will represent the third generation of my family born in this place. It's changed a lot -- and even moved -- in the last 50 years. When I was born it was over on the corner of Wade Ave and St. Mary's St. (heh, like you'd know where that is) The unemployment office is in that building now. When my sons were born they hadn't built this birthing center yet. We came in through the ER and went to the typical L&D setup. I don't know so much about this "Family Birthing Center" they have now. Not sure what makes it different unless they've just got more and different ways of doing -- or facilitating -- what they do. Wasn't an option when mine came along. Things have certainly changed a lot since then. But the waiting? Still the same.

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it's that time people

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For those of you that already knew, the blessed event has begun. For those who didn't, I'm about to become a grandpa. Updates as I get a chance.

I am so not ready for this. But I'm told it's a lot easier with a generation in between. Can't confirm or deny. This is my rookie season.

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Refugee

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Balanced on a razor
Too sharp to stay on
Too high to fall off
The wolf is never
Far from the door
An exile lives
In the city of his birth
Turned out by circumstance
Turned into a refugee
Without a refuge
The light from over there
Promises hope
If he can only cross the road

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About this piece: Looking at this photo of the cars turning Tate Street into a game of Human Frogger, I thought you'd really have to want one of those subs to brave the traffic to get there. For most of us that's an inconvenience. But for the one looking for a break from starvation -- or a job -- those cars aren't just standing between him or her and some calories. They may very well be standing in the way of life itself. (Yes, I know, you can walk to the corner and wait for the light to change. It's a metaphor okay?)

About the photo: Taken in Greensboro, NC in February of 2010, outside Aycock Auditorium

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55 flash fiction friday #69: faithless friend

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He heard the noises upstairs. The voice, her voice, calling out the name of his best friend. Dreading but knowing what he would discover, he climbed the stairs to the bedroom.


"How could you?", he cried to her his voice thick with anguish.


"And you!", he said to his friend, "Bad dog! Bad, bad dog!"

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 Graciously hosted by G-Man.

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sky watch friday #75: shipwrecked

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Shipwrecked

Adrift on a trackless sea,
Anchorless, rudderless,
Unmasted and floundering.
With neither the energy
Nor the will
To stitch together enough sail
To hobble to a safe anchorage.

I sailed right into the teeth of the storm,
Eyes wide open.
Unflinching. Dauntless.
Trusting that my ship was
The equal of the gale
Never doubting
That I would reach the far shore.

Here and now
I wonder. I doubt.
I follow the line
On the map that brought me here
And question everything
I thought I knew.
Maps don't tell the full story.

This image and poem -- along with many others -- is featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

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About this piece: It's a metaphor that could be applied many things. Read it the way you need to to make it work for you. ;)

About the photo: Taken in North Topsail Beach, NC in July of 2009, and not really related to the poem other than in its nautical theme and mood.

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trouble me

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This image and many others featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

Trouble Me
10,000 Maniacs, Blind Man's Zoo (Elektra Records - 1989)

Trouble

Trouble me, disturb me
With all your cares - and your worries
Trouble me
On the days when you feel spent

Why let your shoulders bend
Underneath this burden, when my
Back is sturdy and strong - trouble me

Speak to me, don't mislead me
The calm I feel means a storm is swelling
Speak to me, there's no telling
Where it starts or how it ends

Speak to me, why are you building
This thick brick wall - to defend me?
Speak to me, when your silence
Is my greatest fear?

Why let your shoulders bend
Underneath this burden, when my
Back is sturdy and strong - speak to me

Let me have a look
Inside these eyes while I'm learning
Let me, please don't hide them
Just because of tears

Let me send you off to sleep with a
"There, there now, stop your turning and tossing"
Let me, let me know where
The hurt is, and how to heal

(Bridge)
Spare
Spare me?
Don't spare me
Anything troubling

Trouble me, disturb me
With all your cares and your worries
Speak to me, and let our words build
A shelter from the storm
Let me, and lastly
Let me know what I can mend

There's more, honestly
Than my sweet friend, you can see
Trust is what I'm offering
If you trouble me

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faithless day

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 This image and others available for sale at my RedBubble Site!
Also: This image and poem -- along with many others -- is featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

What light through yonder window breaks?
What’s the story there?
Who is so busy that Day grew tired of waiting
And left him to his work?
Did the Day storm out
Slamming the door in anger?
Or did She slip away quietly
While his back was turned
For some assignation with the dusk?
Does he realize, even
That She has left him here
Alone in his garret?

Ticking another day off the list
Filling another night with
The empty promise of Better Things
If he can only get
This One Last Thing
Complete
Perfect
Finished.
And put out the light
Go home to his empty bed
And wait for faithless Day to return
With the dawn.

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About this piece: Out photo hunting with Tonka one evening I saw this light on in the post office on Fayetteville Street and wondered what was going on there so late. Had the light been in a ground floor window I would have assumed that it was just the mail handlers sorting and preparing deliveries. But an upper story office isn't normally home to this sort of operation, so the light sent me down a path of wondering, "Whats' gong on up there?". And here we are.

About the photo: The Century Post Office on Fayetteville Street in Raleigh, NC Taken in November of 2009

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wordless wednesday #171: showtime

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 This image and others available for sale at my RedBubble Site!
Also: This image and many others are featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

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too late

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Satisfied hunger
Empty promise of the sign
Likely just as well

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About this piece: Looking at the photo I was struck by the "not" implied by the darkened "Open" sign. The lights inside (which accurately suggest that the place is, in fact, open) tell a whole story themselves, just not this one. But I didn't really need that double latte at this hour anyway now did I?

About the photo: Taken outside Coffeeology on Tate Street in Greensboro, NC. Ironically, I took several shots trying to catch the flashing "Open" sign while it was lit. Eventually I did, then decided I liked it better this way.

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have you ever...

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Have you ever done something with as pure an intent as the human heart is capable of only to figure out later that what you intended as helpful was in fact hurtful? Does that happen to other people, or is it just me? Because I seem to have developed a real talent for it.

And I hate that. A lot.

Because the person who's hurt is still hurt, no matter the intent.

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i am not dreaming

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I don’t remember dreams
But if I did
I would remember the one
Where I stand on the beach
Scanning the ocean
Just beyond the breakers
Where the riptides don’t reach
Where the swells are steep
Where you are.

But this is not a dream
This is the reality,
Metaphorical but no less real
That clings to my consciousness

I know you must do this
Must make this journey
I know you’re strong
A much stronger swimmer

Than I will ever be
I also know
The mighty, indifferent force
Of the ocean.
So I search for you
Among the swells and the foam
Amid the ocean’s vastness
You are not afraid I imagine
Not nearly so terrified as I
Who can only watch and wait
For you to return to shore.

I pray for your safety
Pacing the shoreline
And weeping at the need
For you to be so far out at all.

If I remembered dreams
I would remember this one.

This image and poem -- along with many others -- is featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

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About this piece: It's hard when someone you care about is struggling. It's harder still when the most helpful thing you can do is watch, listen and wait to be useful. Who hasn't been there?

About the photo: Taken on Front Street in Beaufort, NC in October of 2008, and not really related to the poem other than in its dreamlike (to me) feel.

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when

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 This image and others available for sale at my RedBubble Site!
Also: This image and poem -- along with many others -- is featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

When you think no one cares
That no one understands
When you feel the ache of loneliness
Your heart heavy
And your soul too weary for another step

Someone somewhere feels for you
Aches for you.
Someone somewhere echoes your loneliness
And sits waiting
To offer a hand, a shoulder, a heart to lean on.

When the sun is warm
And the wind is at your back
When the road rises to meet you
And your spirit is soaring
And cannot be brought down by any force

Someone somewhere is smiling
In silent celebration
Someone somewhere echoes your joy
And sits waiting
To encourage, to sustain, to validate.

When you are quiet
And still in contemplation
When your mind
Reaches out to the horizon
And your memories stir

Someone somewhere is hoping
To be found in those thoughts
Someone somewhere thinks of you
And sits waiting
Hoping to be remembered fondly.

Someone
Somewhere
Loves You.

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About this piece: I don't know the girl standing by herself by the door, but her single-ness stood out (to me) from the rest of the crowd. I suspect she was simply waiting for someone. But the scene made me think of all the people who are alone in the crowd, and what they might feel.

About the photo: Taken at Aycock Auditorium, UNC Greensboro before my son's concert with the UNC-G Symphonic Band February 19. An experimental shot using a slow shutter an panning the scene slightly to create motion blur.

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one single impression: "aura"

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Pyrrhic Victory
On a ribbon of fire
The rocket rises
Clawing for the sky
Trying to escape
Its own fiery tail
Knowing
That it cannot outpace
The fire within it
And that in the end
That same fire
That propels it
Will destroy it
Its only redemption
Found in the awe
On the faces
On the ground below
The spectacle
Of dying well.

One Single Impression
 This image and others available for sale at my RedBubble Site!
Also: This image and poem -- along with many others -- is featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

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About this piece: The photo was the chicken, the poem the egg in this case. I was considering the photo and thinking of how the very thing that drives a skyrocket is the thing that ultimately destroys it. It serves one purpose in its life, and if the weather is good and the powder stays dry and it doesn't sit on the shelf too very long it does it well. Neil Young put it as "Better to burn out than to fade away." Using it for the "Aura" prompt was a bit of a stretch, but the photo should make the connection.
About the photo: This is an older shot, taken on New Year's Eve 2008.

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rail bridge

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Train rolls overhead
Metronome of steel on steel
Sings a man to sleep

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About this piece: As far as I know, there wasn't actually anyone sleeping under this bridge, but I can't ever pass over or under or even near a rail bridge without wondering who might be. This is especially true at night when darkness hides the things we don't want to see.

About the photo: Taken in Wake Forest on Halloween night 2009, not as a part of the photo scavenger hunt at Tiff-o-ween 2K9.

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sky watch friday #74: my end of the sky

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My End of the Sky

Are the stars different
At your end of the sky?
Does the moon come closer to you
Than to me?
Are we so far apart
That the very skies themselves
Take a different form?
I hope, at your end of the sky,
The days are warm,
The evenings cool and fragrant
Brimming with promise
I hope, at your end of the sky,
You are smiling
Living
Loving
Happy

My end of the sky
Is very different
I speak to it
It listens with indifference
If it listens at all
At my end of the sky
The moon
Is cold
The stars
Too far to reach
I am, at my end of the sky
Living
Loving
Hopeful
Is my end of the sky
So very different?

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55 flash fiction friday #68: the whole truth

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"People will tell you what they want you to know."

"True. But it’s not always the whole truth. They’ll tell you as much as they can."

"Meaning?"

"Some things... you can’t say."

"Because?"

"Maybe you’re afraid of the reaction. Or afraid it’ll hurt someone."

"Like what?"

"I can’t say."

"Because?"

"I’m afraid of both things."

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 Graciously hosted by G-Man.

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insomnia

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This image and many others are featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

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silence

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"Silence is Golden."
Who says so?
Who decided,
And why,
That silence is
Something to be valued,
Prized as gold?

Who was it
That was possessed
Of enough wisdom
That he could know
The nature of something
That by that very nature
Is unknowable?

Is silence gold?
Or is it dross?
Or is it neither of these?
Is it as it appears,
Simply formless, shapeless
An absence of anything, really.
A void.

The airless vacuum
Of the space that
Surrounds me
Engulfs me
The highwayman that
Steals my breath
My sleep.

If only
I could bring
The silence without
Inside where it might
Serve some purpose
Quiet the chorus within
I might feel differently.

This image and poem -- along with many others -- is featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

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About this piece: I'm not a morning person. Never have been. So waking up at 4 AM is pretty disorienting. Nothing else is awake at that hour. Not the birds, not even the squirrels -- the absence of which someone I know once called "the last word in stillness". Turns out though, that it can inspire... something anyway. Not just this piece, but the "prequel" of this one were born from it.

About the photo: No, I wasn't out shooting this one at 4 AM. I was looking for an image of silence, and you have to admit, she's not going to say much.

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wordless wednesday #170: if the sidewalks could talk

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This image and many others are featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

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blurring the edges

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 This image and others available for sale at my RedBubble Site!
Also: This image and many others are featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

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one single impression: murmur

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Murmur (II - Prequel)
In the twisted dark of sleeplessness
The ceiling fan murmurs
Mocking my attempts at rest.
My dog murmurs
Dreaming whatever dogs dream.
I rise.

In the cool, damp dark of pre-dawn
The highway murmurs
As truck tires sing a weary work song.
My heart murmurs
As the silence presses in from all sides.
I listen.

In the jumbled dark of my mind
The ocean murmurs
Its pulse echoing my own.
My lips murmur
"I remember".
I remember.

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Murmur (I)
A hundred miles away
The ocean murmurs to me
A single word
"Remember"
No others are needed
And in truth
Not even that one
I remember perfectly
I cannot forget
The streaks of frozen crystalline white
Punctuating perfect blue
The sketches the birds drew
On the canvas of the shore
The biting wind, the brilliance
Of the sun unfiltered
How we laughed at the sandpipers
Fleeing the waves that feed them
Marveled at the tide
Pulled up tight like a blanket
Under the shore's chin by a maternal moon

A murmur, "Remember"
I remember
A laugh, a touch,
A kiss I'd dared not hope for
In my most unbridled imagination
We planted our flag
Claimed the beachhead as our own
In that pristine moment
Only you and I existed
A day in a life
A life in a day
If I am dreaming, never let me wake, I said
If I am awake, never let me sleep, I said
It seems long ago
Since the searing blue of boundless promise
Deepened to the purple ache of longing
And a restless heart
Alone in the night
First murmured your name
Just to hear it.

Please say you remember.

One Single Impression

These look out of order perhaps. There's a reason. I wrote Murmur (I), couldn't decide whether or not to publish it, wrote Murmur (II), then decided to publish the first version. By that time the second was already posted. And in reading them both, the second one read like a prequel to the first. So here we are. Just me being my usual neurotic self. Nothing to worry about.

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55 flash fiction friday #67: wait. what?

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"I think there's a book in that. Your book."

He stared at the blinking cursor waiting patiently for his reply. Of all the surprising things she'd ever said, he wouldn't in a lifetime have ever seen that one coming. But then, she was like that. Surprising, and delightfully unpredictable.

"A book?" he finally tapped back.

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 Graciously hosted by G-Man.

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sky watch friday #73

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small world

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wordless wednesday #169: buy me

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 This image and others available for sale at my RedBubble Site!
Also: This image and many others are featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

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closing time

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 This image and others available for sale at my RedBubble Site!
Also: This image and many others are featured in my book Distant Echoes, available from Amazon.com

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one single impression: hesitation

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Hesitation
Between there and here, a river runs
Too wide to jump, too swift to swim
Hiding rocks and snares
And the detritus of a thousand wrecks
The bridge across is narrow
And none too sturdy
You hesitate,
Not knowing if it will bear your weight
And hope I understand.

I have seen the wonders on this side
The beauty of a landscape of believing,
In simple things
I want to say "It's alright, take my hand.
Don't look down, just follow me.
I know the way."
I hesitate,
Not sure the words will come out right
And hope you understand.

But you will cross or not
In your own time,
On your own terms,
And in your own place, as it must be.
As it was for me,
As it is for us all.
We hesitate,
All of us for our own reasons
That only we understand.

One Single Impression

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every new beginning

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