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Response to Northography – Woman and Skeleton
Response to Northography #254 – Woman and Skeleton http://www.northography.com/responses.php?stimulus_id=254 I have pondered in silence from near and far, a photo of a woman pulled into herself seated on an antique couch. She is not alone. A silhouette, or projection, perhaps, upright facing toward some distant painting of the renaissance era. Nothing comes to me, so…
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Response to Northography – Helios RIsing
In response to the latest Northography stimuli titled “The Ninth Wave”: http://www.northography.com/responses.php?stimulus_id=252 desperate moves within the churning sea lost is the hull and deck left with the mast and sails we climb limb over limb. tumultuous shades of green swallowed by the black chaotic waters. towering white capped waves red tinged a reflection of the…
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Response to Northography – Unlatched
In response to the latest Northography stimuli titled “Unlatched”: http://www.northography.com/responses.php?stimulus_id=251 Is the door unlatched and open or unhinged outside the presented view? What else do I not see? A silhouette passed through the yellow light. Glass doorknob cold to the touch so I let go and I wait. I knew moments ago what I was…
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Response to Northography – Sunbaker
In response to the latest Northography stimuli titled “Sunbaker”: http://www.northography.com/responses.php?stimulus_id=250 Dear earth, can you hear me? It’s me, John. Listen, that glowing orb is particularly hot today and my Swedish skin has turned brown and crispy. Do you mind if I lay here for awhile? This sand is soft and comfortable reminds of childhood on…
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A Poem of Discontent
Disillusioned is the title we take my generation fighting back against the call and allure of profits at the expense of identity and the land our tears fall upon. We will not hide, we will not keep quiet, our voice will reach each darkened corner, each soul pushed aside, left within the cold confines of…
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Snow…
And the snow keeps falling and the wind reminds us who owns this land.
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Rain Snow
The rain falls into ice into snow and upon the ground the earth dissappears into an endless horizon of white and the static leaves for now.
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Where…
How much time passes, how many miles of field do we cross, before noticing the footsteps leave no prints upon the snow?
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Inspiration
Music touches a nerve that I cannot name, that I fail to understand. So, I give in to the emotion and I write.
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Stars
the stars are beautiful this morning cold white points are you up there? I feel your presence I feel calm I feel nostalgic