Sunday, September 28, 2014

An Afternoon with the Ancients

I spent the afternoon with the ancients
Tall dark shadows on a primeval landscape.
Could have collapsed on the path
But let’s call it the awe and beauty of nature
It overwhelmed me
But this is why I changed my life
The simplest thing, fitness
So the mountain ahead might become the friend
And never the adversary
That the feeling of freedom might one day
Be savored more sweetly
How sad the legs that can not take the weight
Of ones own leisure
So unfortunate the weight of ones body
when it's the burden on the soul

The paintbrush lights the way
glimmers of light in an ancient forest
deep dark paths mark the journeys of centuries
shadows deep and hallowed, keep us calm
and contained, a silence
even among the crowds of faces all in awe
and the light, a brilliant light
touches greens and amber all along the path
I am lost in the intricacies of leaves
the maize of cryptic branches
God, the amazing artist
touches the canvas with colors
and I give up all my brushes
a photograph is barely a snippet
of the wonder
Muir agrees, there is nothing more
I can bring to this place
exquisite light through
ancient trees.

I cherish our conversation
as the forest listens intently
there is laughter like music
a stellar jay in forest undergrowth
mocks us
but we insist
even as my oxygen level wanes
I'll never complain
we walk through shadows
and glimmer in rich spectacles of light
I can barely capture this moment
my photos seem like snapshots
to the spectacle of one short afternoon
an amazing moment of sharing words
all the conversations with you

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Artist Senses

Where would the artist find the colors
When he’s moving too fast to feel them
To taste the flavor
Of daylight…
To immerse in evening splendor
The smell of honeysuckle and jasmine
The feeling of the seasons like the main course
Of a meal
Its amazing how the senses all connect
All complement each other
Though we rarely connect them
Or imagine tasting the sweet viridian
Of early spring all fragrant and gently hued
Or thirsting for the autumn evening Prussian blue
A taste of burning wood and the sweet sadness
Of endings and decay
How does an artist find their colors, or feel alive

Without devouring the senses this way

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Van Goghs' Last

Van Goghs' Last

You were thirty nine
And unjaded
How did you do it
There’s a madness to beauty
And you mastered the art
Anyone who knows about him
Would realize where I’m going
Or went
Slashes of blues and purples
The yellows turn to gold and red
Streaks of crimson across the ceiling
A sunset over the brides head
The landscape of poppies in distant fields
The blackbirds
Did you find an answer
And was it in cold black steel
A silver flash across the sun flowered field
Did anyone tell you it was taboo
To feel
Rich red hues answer questions
About that day
Black shadows and rich glorious corn
As the sky becomes all starry at night
Did you spend too long in those yellow halls
Those broken shadows and faceless walls
The poor, the hungry, the sick, the poor,
Didn’t you ever wonder what if
One more
One final view from the beauty of madness
One last stroke of color mining emotion
From a dark place
Did they ever tell you not to feel
Might as well put all your colors away…..

Let this beautiful canvas finally heal?

The Electric Hour Appears

Electric hour approaches,
The yellow leaves and the brilliant greens
Stare through the window
With a voice of pacific breeze
I can smell the flavors of rosemary and fennel
Colors on the edge of gardens
Bursting out for one last show before autumn comes
I sit in the cool window seat
I feel the season change
Crows mock the afternoon light
I stare from a vantage point, high above the golden leaves
In spirals on concrete 

walkways and the sea beyond the sky
Blue green and sailboats tilted in the gentle breezes
Still tired from the walk up mountains
In deep green forests
With smiling faces out of breath
A drink of warm red wine on the corner
cars pass by in routine

I am outside the membrane
A stranger to a peaceful place

The pacific breeze through windows 

wakes meI feel the calm of this peaceful life
Basil adds the hues and flavors tasted
Green tea and sparkling water
If I take a breath I might wake up
And all of this would be gone

If I open my eyes all of this will be gone
There is a current that twists and strives inside
As constant and violent as the tide
I feel the sadness for every fallen leaf
I feel the sadness for time passing
and the beauty of days elicits the emotional response
quiet in the other room
the silence of an early afternoon fall
2014, afraid of watching time pass by too quickly
Afraid of life and time awaits me
I’d take a breath but I’m afraid of waking
And stirring my eyes,
witness the stream of time
                                                                      Like sand through loving fingers strive
                                                                      The electric hour approaches

                                                                      And soon it will be night…