Purgatory on Parade (Street Photography 2)

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photo credit westcoastwoman

 

A wandering agnostic amongst a sea of Easter hats

no hat to call my own, moments captured

hardly convey this half way house,

this purgatory on parade.

Turning, Turning…

I move through cobbled streets

and find no spot to settle

a restless dog rotating above it’s bed.

Salvation is offered

at the tip of a blue laced finger

I pass, move forward …

but give an upward glance

as Magic forms above

on this Louisiana morning.

 

 

Hand to Heart (Street Photography 1)

(while working on another piece this morning I found this in my drafts, I meant to go in to delete, but in the end my hand and heart pushed Publish)

I am going to try a short series of poetry inspired by (my second love) street photography, a series I took last year at the Easter Sunday Parade in the French Quarter, New Orleans.

 

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photo credit westcoastwoman

 

Each step you take, from here to there

each hand you hold, they’ll sometimes care

some filled with light some fighting dark

you’ll find what’s right, you’ll make your mark

your heart will break, can’t help you there

you’ll find one hand that let’s you care

but in the end, your hand to heart

is what will lead you home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Bell Jar

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photo credit westcoastwoman

 

The ground began to thaw and in a flash it was Spring, time to make their way into that other world, the world of Light.
I observed each day as they gingerly emerged, their fragile petals unfurling in a gift of surrender.
They had no way of knowing that change had been afoot in the world of Light as they slept safe and warm in the protective darkness.
Rules were changing, nothing was as it had been, the warmth, the cold, the light and the dark.
The Bell Jars were placed for protection before the snow fell, days later they  reemerged, safe in their glass houses.
The thought occurred….. is there a Bell Jar large enough to protect our collective humanity, our all too human hearts, the world of Light we live in?

 

(written in response to Sunday’s six sentence word prompt. Prompt word FLASH)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lost in Translation

DSC_2223 (2)photo credit westcoastwoman

We crawl paved arteries,
Protective metal shells
Inch their way forward
No bumper stickers here
Metal emblems shout our allegiances.

  “Oh Lord won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz”

The City called last week….
should have let it go
to Voice Mail.
Screen all talk of departures,
Words that draw me back.

  “Dialing for dollars is trying to find me”

Retracing walkways now paved
with distant memories,
New eyes open to reveal
familiar tender traps
laid with immaculate precision.

  “Prove that you love me and buy the next round”

Early light… dust of snow
I walk as the city sleeps,
Soft footsteps join my path
Coyote and I share a gaze
Half domestic, half wild, still untamed

We stand, lost in translation.
Eyes unlock
heads turn
together the step
in the same direction.

  “I’m counting on you Lord, please don’t let me down” 

   “lyrics  Janis Joplin”

 

Towards the Light

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photo credit westcoastwoman

 

A place exists somewhere between the edge of campfire light and the surrounding forest that cannot be named.  Distant enough from the laughter and storytelling that the draw into the surrounding darkness is tangible.

She awoke to find herself rooted in this unnamed space and unable to remember how long she had lingered there.  Her feet moved towards the familiar light of the fire until she stood close behind the gathered circle.  There was no notice of her presence and it appeared the circle was unbroken, she would not be missed.

A turn and movement into the utter darkness of the path ahead, the inability to see her foot as it moved forward made it clear that for some time this journey would be without light or destination.

 

 

written in response to a word prompt, the word “clear”, limited to six sentences.

 

 

Featured

3 a.m. sentence(s)

DSC_1384 (1)photo credit west coast woman

 

Dusk til Dawn
Shadow and Light
the veil is thin

The call goes out
spiritual refugees
seeking a conscious oasis-
awaken to
torrents of words
whispering past as
we linger between
the threshold of
one world and another

in

out

Truth drifting on
shattered hearts
hover just beyond
the collective reach,
pluck what is close
as mist envelops
the pain the loss the love
the ephemeral words
the 3 a.m. sentence(s)
the puzzle being solved
piece by piece
Together, Apart

We wait for Dawn.

J.S.

DSC_2178photo credit west coast woman

 

 

 

Question Everything (and then recalculate)

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I read signs, official metal and wood signs, signs that randomly litter public places, anywhere they pop up in my field of vision.  These words, no matter how they are presented  inevitably consist of an agenda, something one of our fellow humans feels the rest of us needs to do or not do and often they make me smile. There are others that make me think. The messages that usually have me smiling are the “official” ones, those that have you questioning what consistent public actions could have led to the round table discussion that produced the sign.

I recently came across the sign below as I entered a trailhead near my house.
It was placed among a number of signs many of  which appeared to have been produced for those among us that have not been blessed with a lot of common sense.
But this one got my mind turning…….

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Full disclosure, I have in a past working life been a ‘authorized landscaper’ and currently tend a fairly large piece of property.   I can tell you that landscaping  is not something that happens on a whim.

The immediate question that came to mind was what could  possibly have happened on this ‘town controlled land’ that prompted this sign to appear? I had an image of guerrilla gardeners armed with shovels. rakes and a secretly produced site plan arriving as night fell, to do their dirty work. A green rebellion of sorts, but to what end?

How much of this ‘landscaping’ had been installed without ‘authority’ before complaints were filed, meetings called and finally a very official looking metal sign produced and erected?  If someone followed through after witnessing some suspicious activity and the culprits were caught, what would be the charge? What is the penalty for ‘unauthorized landscaping’? The question I would most like answered is could someone send them over to my property.  I am sure that we could work out some sort of non monetary exchange that would  satisfy us all.

Given the state of play on the planet at the moment I think the sign below might sum up how a lot of us may be feeling. This is a time of great transition and we are travelling forward into a global future that appears to be unstable bordering on chaotic.

Recently I found myself in an unexpected situation, the first word that came to mind was “Recalculating”  the echoing of this word in my brain sounded familiar, like that vaguely mocking voice that eminates from your GPS when you veer off your planned route.

Recalculate:   verb  to calculate again; typically using different data

In the world today “different data” is available to anyone who cares to take a look. Question is are you willing to examine it and then alter all or parts of the route you programmed into your internal GPS so long ago.

The ‘signs’ are out there……

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