Friday, November 30, 2012

Photo art.....a glance back..

Pixel Dust Photo Art
This is the last Photo Art Friday of the year and Bonnie has asked us to post our favorite or best digital art project this year.  Having concentrated more on writing this second half of the year, it is not hard for me to find the one I like best of the several I did.  It's such a fun process and I want to do more.  I am taking the liberty of posting earlier favorite photo makeovers for those who are newer followers and may not have seen them.. only one, however is seen on Bonnie's web-site, Pixel Dust Photo Art    which is so full of creative images for you to peruse now..  

                                                                              The top photo received the most views since I began the blog, therefore is the most favored..


My take on a movie title  - The Pelican Brief -  is one of my favorites...

This is the most bizarre as it formed a giant clam shell when I
played with the
scene of friends on a beach...

...three other favorites I did are the following:

Lastly I did these two with Bonnie's texture of last week..I used it on many pics and it is very versatile!  Alas I was late in finishing..

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Raymond Carver - Erasured

Raymond CarverI had not heard of Erasure poetry but that's what we at are doing this week: erasing some of a well-known poem or other work by said will known author and creating yet another version of it which can set a different tone.  It almost feels like paraphrasing or stealing to me,  but I learned something about my own writing by doing this exercise.  Raymond Carver (1938 - 1988) was a local Pacific Northwest  writer, a favorite of mine.  Another short poem of his is "Your Dog Dies" if you are curious about him.  He is best known for his Collection of Short Stories and poems in "From Where I'm Calling From" and other books. 

Last Night with Fog and Horses   (my version)

In the living room saying their goodbyes, they put their arms around 
each other.  Full of passion and memory, each recalled each other's youth. 
They had been through a lot together, but could not take another step.

Someone else for him; tears falling.  A red emergency light flashed out 
of the fog, voices the end of that long night, the horses had 
cropped the grass.  A horse stepped out of the fog..and another..
she went outside and moved among them weeping, touching their flanks.  

They began to graze when he made two calls: one to the sheriff, 
"..the horses are out" and that other call, too. He joined his wife in the 
yard and they murmured to the horses together. (Was this really happening?) 

Something ended, something else rushing in.  "Goodbye, " she 
said, pulling away... loss ringing in their ears. Later, he remembered the 
disastrous phone call that hung on and on..and for the rest of his life,
it boiled down to one thing, Malediction.

Late Night with Fog and Horses by Raymond Carver

They were in the living room. Saying their
goodbyes. Loss ringing in their ears.
They'd been through a lot together, but now
they couldn't go another step. Besides, for him
there was someone else. Tears were falling
when a horse stepped out of the fog
into the front yard. Then another, and
another. She went outside and said,
"Where did you come from, you sweet horses?"
and moved in amongst them, weeping,
touching their flanks. The horses began
to graze in the front yard.
He made two calls: one call went straight
to the sheriff - "someone's horses are out."
But there was that other call, too.
Then he joined his wife in the front
yard, where they talked and murmured
to the horses together. (Whatever was
happening now was happening in another time.)
Horses cropped the grass in the yard
that night. A red emergency light
flashed as a sedan crept in out of fog.
Voices carried out of the fog.
At the end of that long night,
when they finally put their arms around
each other, their embrace was full of
passion and memory. Each recalled
the other's youth. Now something had ended,
something else rushing in to take its place.
Came the moment of leave-taking itself.
"Goodbye, go on," she said.
And then pulling away.
Much later,
he remembered making a disastrous phone call.
One that had hung on and hung on,
a malediction. It's boiled down
to that. The rest of his life.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012


For fun I wrote these in response to  Madeleine Begun Kane's  blog suggestion...

by klr                                                                                
Stock Photo - irish windows. 
fotosearch - search 
stock photos, 
pictures, wall 
murals, images, 
and photo clipart

A donkey that wasn't too bright
gave a ride to a cockatoo white
They conversed in Espanol
Sang in tenor and alto
and fell in love by evening candlelight

A woman who wasn't too bright
loved a man who could not requite
He still had oats to sow
But what he did not know
Was that she was a perfect delight

A man who wasn't too bright
married Ms. Taylor only to fight
He bought her a diamond
where iguanas run
and left in the middle of the night

A woman who wasn't too bright
stood in the garden moonlight
In shadows a man in a hood
up to absolutely no good
'til her face made his heart take flight

Old photo art..

This was supposed to be for last week's Photo Art Friday, however I was out of town
 and unable too use Wi-Fi  and my laptop from our location.  Simply a ladder in my atrium where bamboo a few tropical ferns grow; it is cold in there now, so it's not a year round greenhouse.  The texture is a fun one from Bonnie at Pixel Photo Art Studio.  It is called Signed and week I hope to be on time with my offering ;-)  
BTW, I am grateful for my friends and family, that you support, visit, and otherwise find this blog still interesting enough to return.  Soon I will be updating/changing  it's design, as I recently changed the furniture in my living room, and still in the mood for re-arranging certain things.  It will be recognizable as there will not be a dramatic alteration. 
 I do hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving...

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

One coach's song...or life is a soccer game..

Light rain fell from
a passing cloud
onto the 10 year old fledgling face
the field has straw colored grassy spots,
but mostly good old dirt...
White goal posts glare..
.no bench sitters..all players play..

The coach pats each
boy's head....then he bellows
affectionately..."OK, OK..keep on it...
stay with the ball....push it
now..don't kick..that's it...
keep it moving...'Oh,  No!!'  (grimace)
...'.he kicked it'...g*#d%!"

Another ball slipped
by the goalie...."Meathead!!
Now...pass it!"...a blur of legs struggle
for the ball, tangled..."Ouch!"..
A snap is heard and silence ensues.."Get him
some!!  I'm going over there...jeez!
Take it to the side."

"Oh boy, one down, you o.k
son?  Doc says you are out of the game.
Take care now, hear?" Clapping, time outs over,
the other half due to start...."Wake up, Andrew..
.enough sleeping out there!
Devin!..throw it about some support...??
Hey...I need you over here, not back there!?"

"Way to go..lead the way....
Now, cross over...
pass it to him...Defense!!..where's the defense!?"
Could be a scene from Les Miserables..
bruised jaws, gangling growing arms and  torn
garments.  Sweat builds up and drips;
somebody steps on wrists...muddy feet..
this scaled down mini
war battlefield..

"Stay with it!  good boot.."
Like fish out of water..
..our future's men..
the clock runs out...
Ok, guys, next time, next time..
By the way, practice is on Tuesday
ya gotta learn to run with it..

Fresh oranges to quench..

"It's OK, they had more back up..'s all right, Buddy, next time!
                            - 4:30 sharp!!
Be there -
..great game guys..
way to play!"

by klr

It's Open Link night over at  where more than one hundred post their poetry...please fell welcome to join in reading other entries this week.  Any subject is a go on Tuesdays.  A soccer game, played last month, could be an analogy for life - with stops and starts and back and forths but I wrote it simply as an observer in the physical  sense ;)

Friday, November 16, 2012

Fernando Pessoa...a literary allusion to...

Over at Meeting the Bar and  we are challenged to write in the form of literary allusion, spotlighting or referencing, answering back or emulating a well known poet's work, artist, or other literary work.  I chose Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa for his existentialist style of writing which I admire.  His prose and poetry tell of his perennial unrest and search for meaning in life.  The top quotes and short poem are my models for the poem below.
dVerse Poets Pub
1888 - 1935

“My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddle strings and harps, drums and tamboura I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.” 
― Fernando PessoaThe Book of Disquiet

“Being tired of all illusions and of everything about illusions – the loss of illusions, the uselessness of having them, the prefatigue of having to have them in order to lose them, the sadness of having had them, the intellectual shame of having had them knowing that they would have to end this way.” 
― Fernando PessoaThe Book of Disquiet

"I'm both in the midst of life and observing it from where I stand.  I am like a playing card that belongs to an ancient and unknown suit, the only remnant of a lost pack.  I have become more image than me; I return to my own self taking myself out of existence, using my soul as ink."
_ F. Pessoa

I see boats moving on the sea.
Their sails, like wings of what I see,
Bring me a vague inner desire to be
Who I was without knowing what it was.
So all recalls my home self, and, because
It recalls that, what I am aches in me
                                                 by Fernando Pessoa ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I lay down my compass by the sea
footprints left, those gone before me
Alone is what I am used to, you see 
This night I'll find stars to catch and shine
put them in my pocket for Amaranthine
wishing the Milky Way reach and take me
                                                   by klr
 klr in response to F. P. statements
My thoughts: His words, "I sought life's meaning in all the wrong places,"....strikes a chord with me.  I like this...and certainly, life's meaning is often wrought in strife and constant pain.  Regardless of what story this man told, the trick was to not call anyone's bluff I guess....was he really so sad?  His fear that "he had not accomplished enough" or he "left a mark of nothingness" sounds all too familiar to my ears, and it would be wrong to denounce him for that.  The "too little too late" syndrome works just fine for me, as well; and "if usefulness is measured by one's decline you will get no answers" also a self deprecating feeling he adheres is a thread throughout his works...but a moving experience to read him and a pleasure to feel a kinship toward him.


Monday, November 12, 2012

Ode to the S. S. Arizona...

by klr

Berthed in deep rolling blue waves
concave wooden throat                                                    
built by men who armored her
over steel petticoat
where shellfish dote
hundreds sleeping in her nave

Telescope facing westward
night turned to mellow
Hawaiian dawn's dew in morn    
newborn sun to follow
dire whistles blow                                                               
evident world wide war spurred

Best Navy in entire world
foiled communique`
scores of lives immortalized
that sky's December day
harbor soiree
thunderous Heavens unfurled

Written for Sunday's mini challenge over at imaginary garden with real 
toads...this form of poetry in stanzas of 6 lines with rhyme; I used the subject 
of war, peace, armistice in accordance with Veterans Day.

the imaginary garden with real toads

Thursday, November 8, 2012

20 words or less...

the imaginary garden with real toads

In 20 words, who we  thought would  win the election while we watched,  biting our nails.....
Instructions from .imaginerygardenwithrealtoads  this week ;)

by klr

Like pebbles on the beach that gather hewn

multicolored, ebbing together letting

new waves spread  against  spent undertow....

new horizons.....

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Rainbow sherbet..


We were given several digital art photos done by photographer SueAnn.   Choosing one, 
we are to write a poem using it as inspiration.  See them all over at where 
Brian Miller is hosting...

...her pear shaped gauzy figure exited the single pane door
air escaping
Yesterday had meaning
...a bountiful sunset poured onto her apt. patio only inches
Invisible guitar strings strum
..fill the air with brooding Garfunkel refrain
hopelessness overtook her
...urging her to jump from the precipice edge
..her dome light of fragile confidence...

....when languishing golden strobes of light appear 
lemon lime color skips
Peacock flamed silhouettes of her tortured soul 
pattern the building
...amid fuchsia splashes of the rainbow
on the roof
..ultraviolet sticky threads cling to her body
She grasps falling Rapunzel like
aureole hair...
causing her heart to give way 
.....for grateful second thoughts

.....weeping silently
having prevailed...
when fragile moments turned around silently.. 
enveloped by viscous psychedelic arms of faith
It wasn't the first time
..carried back inside to live
..another day to depart

                                                 by klr

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Top of the world....

"It's only just begun......"

different women, different era
one body image too thin -
one too heavy

"Rolling in the De..e...eep...."

success built on a broken heart...
aglitter Armani bump

set a higher bar.....twitter..
this social phenomenon...

death threats to baby.... obscure unknown people..
why the hate?
..must be already hurting, but mustn't judge..
get off her backlash..

now out and about...proud...gifted.....24 year old Adele...
only brings beauty to others...

same old prejudices
- people need not be ranked, categorized.

i love you Gloria Steinem
 4 U show us the way

some women have 2 jobs and
...still don't have the courage?
...don't know yet that their previous party of self respect
left them first...

equal enacted!

so fly robin, fly!!  up into the sky!

let seraphic wings carry you
to your truest love...
may you drink of earth's purest springs
 - and sail far above all creation
              ...ever happily

dignified  - on top of the world

singing the most honeyed melodious strain - into the gentle winds
...awing angels

with your newborn baby blue love..grow
life has just begun


For  dVerse  this week I have to say I gambled on this.  Unfamiliar with the culture of this poetry, it was a matter of just throwing it out there.  If you are a fan of the low art/high art New York poetry style you might want to read some other entries.