by the green river,
one tree prematurely
takes Fall colors.
First to Fall [Haiku]
1
Category Archives: Blogs
DAILY PHOTO: Budapest’s Tiny Sculptures
PROMPT: Re-live
Is there an age or year of your life you would re-live?
If I could do so as the me I am now, I’d do any of them (post-High School,) but if I’d be the me I was at the time, then I don’t see the point. Either way, there would be changes that would ripple through the rest of my life, to varying degrees. I got through largely without unnecessary tragedy, I’d as likely screw it up as improve upon it.
If nothing downstream could be changed, that would be like watching a boring documentary that had none of the tedious parts cut out. Like watching the 17 days a wildlife photographer sat freezing his ass off uneventfully before he got footage of a snow leopard. I really don’t see the point of that.
Life is beautiful because one has no idea what it might bring.
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PROMPT: Historical Event
What historical event fascinates you the most?
It varies over time. For a long time, it was the Second World War and the Holocaust. How do you get the rise of Nazis and the horrors that sprang therefrom? Sadly, I think that question has been answered to my — for lack of a better word— satisfaction.
The execution of Socrates has spurred a great deal of thought.
In terms of what is not so much a historical event, but historical processes, I’m intrigued by the life of Buddha.
Then there are a lot of explorer / adventurer travels.
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“What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why” by Edna St. Vincent Millay
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.
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PROMPT: Should Know
What’s something you believe everyone should know.
At the risk of mixed metaphor and cliche: how to walk a mile in another person’s shoes while keeping in mind that no one is the villain of his or her own story.
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The Second Coming by W. B. Yeats [w/ Audio]
Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?
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PROMPT: Kid at Heart
What does it mean to be a kid at heart?
The capacity to see humor in flatulence, even when it’s your own.
Oh, wait, maybe I’m thinking of a “kid at fart.”
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Jack-O-Lantern [Free Verse]
Orange orbs cut with fearful faces: Burning brightly - daily & nightly - As menacing medicine for the cringe-impaired, The ones who never get scared -- unless a banal ball, blazing & brainless, (and in a manner all but painless) replaced the head of their town's barber.
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She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron [w/ Audio]
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies, And all that's best of dark and bright Meets in her aspect and her eyes, Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress Or softly lightens o'er her face, Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek and o'er that brow So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow But tell of days in goodness spent,-- A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent.
