As You Lie Dying

As you lie dying,
the shadow of a palm
outside your window
peeps in, enters,
slips across the comforter,
nestles in its folds,
covers your pain.

In the distance
a couple bats tennis balls
back and forth across the net.
No strain.
An easy volley,
back and forth again.
Like our ideas,
ricocheting back and forth.
Yours, then mine.
Divergent memories.

One fact we both hold true.
The night earth shook Tehachapi,
our lives were rent.
And nothing evermore
would be the same.

Outside the window now
a murder of crows descends to feed.

Submitted to dVerse Poetics  prompt based on the wonderful photography of Tracey Grumbach. Thank you, Tracey. 

Process note: The poem is adapted from an actual experience at my sister’s death bed. The reference to the Tehachapi Earthquake relates to the night of our parents marriage (July 20, 1952) when we were children. Both of our parents had lost their first spouses to death. This was our first night together as “siblings.”

 

A Matter of Perspective–Friday Poetically

Image by Bklyn_Spencer via Flickr

One of my favorite living artists is Chuck Close. I was excited to see that Brian Miller’s prompt at Friday Poetically addresses his works. http://onestoppoetry.com/

A year or two ago I enjoyed touring students and the general public through an exhibit of Chuck’s art at Nevada Museum of Art. In addition to his well-know mosaic-like portraiture there was a collection of tapestries. Close used digitally manipulated photography to generate computer images that he sent to a tapestry weaving firm in Belgium  The museum displayed this work so that the visitors could carefully look behind the hangings to see all the threads that went into the finished work. It was an amazing experience. To view some of Close’s tapestries, you may enjoy visiting http://www.magnoliaeditions.com/Content/Close/Close.htm

A Matter of Perspective

Stand too close to life
and you will only see
little squares of colors.

Take a few steps back.
Look how the whole
becomes apparent.

If you view a tapestry
from the backside
confusion presides.

Step up, face it head-on
the precision of the image
will stun you.

Go ahead, manipulate reality.
The outcome surprises,
at times, clarifies.

Andante–One Stop Poetry

Photo: Walter Parada

I am linking this to One Stop Poetry for both One Shoot Sunday where the prompt is inspired by the photography of Walter Parada and One Stop Form. Today’s form is the high octain, created by Luke Prater. 

http://onestoppoetry.com

andante
high octain

adagio thoughts inhabit me
beside the mountains or the shore
i live for music, nothing more

alone and aimless though i be
i play the blues and drink my booze
then jazz it up to vivace

when morning comes, i toss the score
adagio thoughts return to me

adagio thoughts conquer me
gravissimo my spirit’s core
i leave my music at the door

though from myself i hope to flee
i find my muse in nature’s clues
a gift of music sets me free

once more allow melodic roar
as dolce thoughts come back to me.

Musical Notations:

andante–moderate
adagio–slow
vivace–lively
gravissimo—most grave
dolce–sweet

thirteen ways of looking at a desert

Photo: Rosa Frei

Linked to One Stop Poetry: http://onestoppoetry.com/

thirteen ways of looking at a desert

i
sometimes something
we judge to be barren
throbs with life

ii
wind scatters sand
like gossips spread destruction

iii
if you go to the desert
you will see the stars
perhaps one of them
holds your life purpose
then you are no longer
afraid of the viper’s kiss

iv
the power of thirst
consumes all other desires

v
shifting sands
are like people
who vacillate
you don’t know
where you stand

vi
the desert is a canvas
open to splashes
of vibrant color

vii
the desert is
a state of mind
are you alone
or lonely

viii
the desert is
a place of temptation
there the devil tempted
jesus
   bread
   greed
   power
nothing has changed

ix
if you try
to leave your mark
upon the desert
nature will erase it
   wind
   earthquake
   war
we don’t really matter

x
the hotter it gets
the fewer people hang around

xi
many people
do not understand
the beauty of the desert
or of wrinkled faces

xii
at some point
you will visit a desert
and discover
what it is to be arid

xiii
when the desert blooms
you will find grace

Based on a form of Wallace Stevens: “Ways of Looking at…”

Special Post–Leucistic Hummingbird

D. Slotto 4/2011

D. Slotto 4/2011

D. Slotto 4/2011

We are receiving frequent visits from a pure white (Leucistic) hummingbird.

He is friendly when we approach him at the feeder and has even flown up to my husband who has been able to take a number of photos.

Leucistic hummingbirds are rare, but albino hummers are rarer. Leucistic hummers have dark eyes, while those of albinos are pink. These small birds are vulnerable to predators because of their light color.

In American Indian lore, hummingbirds represent joy. White is a symbol of purity and truth.

PURE JOY

 My husband, David, took these photos. We do not have photoshopping capabilities here but when we return home he will work with them and many other photos he has captured.

This little fellow inspired the poem I submitted to Poetry Potluck: http://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2011/04/25/revelation-poetry-potlucks-theme-of-art-music-and-poetry/

For more information on this beautiful little creatures, visit: http://www.rubythroat.org/AlbinoMain.html

 

Poetry and Place

I’ve noticed that a lot of the poetry I write is reflective of PLACE. Both Reno and Palm Desert have a character that is distinctive, charged with beauty and sometimes frightening.

This morning I grabbed a camera to take along on our walk with the dogs. We prowl our neighborhood, nestled beside the Truckee River then turn off onto the river walk that snakes along her banks. David looked at me like I’d lost it when I slung the Nokia around my neck. “Are you sure you want to do that? Why?” Implied was the truth that this is something that we see every day. I told him, I want to find a prompt to help me write a poem, since I’m hoping to come up with thirty new ones by the end of September.”

As it happened, I only took one shot. Actually my formerly-professional-photographer husband pilfered the camera from me and he took the photo I asked for, showing me how to adjust for the lighting.

But something else happened that I didn’t expect. Just having the camera catalyzed my sense of awareness and I SAW so much more than I would have had I not had the intention.

I noticed that August is not the most verdant month in Reno but the sunflowers are flaunting their colors. I spotted pumpkins turning orange in our neighbor’s rock garden. I saw that the Truckee is enjoying the consequences of a wet winter in the Sierra Nevada as the flow is more vigorous that it was this time last year.And from underneath a vine, a tiny purple flower caught my attention. In her center, a brilliant yellow star presided, proving the creator’s use of complementary color is spot-on.

David just left for his weekly trek to a local farmer’s market. On the way out of the house, he grabbed my camera. “You’re taking that?” I asked. “Yeah, he answered. I might see something there to photograph.” So, I don’t have my picture prompt handy…the poem will wait and won’t be a part of this post. But that’s okay. Maybe I’ll have something else to work with in a couple of hours. In the meantime, here’s a picture from a meadow across the street from the entrance to our complex. Am I spoiled or what?

Photo Credit: David Slotto

Poem: “The Photography of David Maisel”

A couple of years ago, the Nevada Museum of Art featured the photography of David Maisel. It presented numerous opportunities for us as docents to work in concepts of both science/math and art as we toured school-age children. Maisel’s work appears to be a canvas of abstract art from a distance, with a heavy emphasis on color, shape and line. In reality, he is an aerial photographer and captures scenes that show the effect we have had on the environment. Examples of his work included photos of the Great Salt Lake, Owens Lake and the greater Los Angeles area. I’m “pimping” this poem for those of you who might want to check out his art online.

The prompt was “Science.”

 

The Photography of David Maisel

Microscopic photos of
blood samples, or so you suppose.
Red corpuscles, lymphocytes,
a few eosinophils,

macrophages swallowing
who-knows-what,
alizarin crimson slides
beneath a lens.

Deceptive art, Maisel,
arial photographer of
Great Salt Lake.
Pollution, masquerade.