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Showing posts from January, 2016

Ungracefully...

photo by author I feel my age upon me, the years heavy, each ache married to a pain, my memory from sharp to swiss. Once all was possible, now compromises to be made. I have a tiny thimble of years left,  I am determined to tamp it full of life.

dedicated to Amiya M.

Pastel colored chalk from the dollar store to write on the sidewalk as they talk about boys, no school for two weeks and Christmas wish lists. They are 12 year olds, middle schoolers, friends together on a warm Saturday night in December. Amiya's words unfinished. Two young men tuck guns into low slung pants, resting against their hip bones. They are high on adrenaline and testosterone, anxious to settle a feud with another 'hood. They jump into the car, bullets cut through the air, until they pull away. Amiya caught it as it flew, nameless, she runs then drops, her blood slick on the grass.  A woman holds her as her breathing changes, shallow, slow. Her friends cling to each other, wet with tears; sirens and blue lights, even the police off balance by the shooting of this young girl. At the ER, she is pronounced,  her mother told her only child is dead.    Amiya's words blurred by rain, bleached by sun, unfinished.

less...

photo by author a voice missing ethereal/other-worldly/surreal the harmony off we are less without his inventive spark his unique view through eyes of different colors his artistry yet his spirit remains to inspire

all that jazzzzzz.....

Jean-Baptiste de Moyne Bienville, founder of New Orleans G.T. Beauregard, General of the Confederate States of America City Park New Orleans Museum of Art David Smith, Amusement Park, 1938, Steel Calder mobile is writing an art?! jazz band at bamboula's house across the street from hotel orange tree blooming one day later, snow covered trees on Afton Mountain

reflections on New Orleans...

                                                               all photos by author

the big easy...

I posted a few photos from my camera on Facebook. More to come from my "real" camera. I'm back.... photo by author
Dear friends, I'll be off the grid for about ten days. Gathering bits of this and that for some new poems... And some new photos as well... Judy

chasing it

Her life full of self recriminations for choices made, regrets for lost opportunities. Each day grinds away, no closer to where she wants to be. Something creative thrums deep within, the wings of a bird against her cage of ribs. It wants to be free, to fly, to become   something wondrous, not yet imagined. Perhaps too late, to become  reality.