Prompt 6 – image of Photographer
Prompt 6 – Image
Photographer
Photography is a great hobby to have
Hours will pass before you even know it
Oh, especially In the golden hours
Try to replicate what the naked eye sees
Oh, take more than one shot of everything
Grin when you check the photos
Rain can be dangerous for the lens
Ask if you’re not sure on anything
Photographers will almost help
Have fun or it’ll put you off
Each photo you take has purpose
Record with your lens and the naked eye
Now read from the bottom up,
24 Hour Marathon Hour 6: A Tribute to A. A. Milne “The Process”
When I was ten
I was well beyond the pen
but I still tended to rattle
and the conflict was quite a battle
When I was twenty
I drank my beer aplenty
but still got through college
but, with a minimum of knowledge
When I was thirty
I met a girl who was purty
married with kids
a New Year’s eve banging lids
When I was forty
I thought I was rather sporty
wearing snazzy jackets
and ties that made a racket
When I was fifty
I was still pretty nifty
grey hair, quite dignified
but a belly growing wide
When I was sixty
I was somewhat betwixty
was I young or old
I was never told
Now that I’m seventy
I am becoming benty
arthritic pain
and worse in the rain
Miracle (hour 6)
Miracle,
a word we speak, our hearts
never included, our minds
never believed, our tongue
never relieved.
Miracle,
a question of faith, our
reasoning never comprehends.
The Many Faces of No One
Once upon a time I was a coyote,
racing careless along the chaparral,
howling true and strong with my pack.
And then the bond was severed
and the coyote died.
Once upon a time I was a hawk,
carving rainshine out of thunderstorms,
pushed ever upward by the draft of my rage.
And then the storms broke away,
but so did the hawk.
Once upon a time I was a pigeon,
swinging happy on a golden perch, beloved,
praised for my function and potential.
And then the practicality faded,
and now the pigeon has as well.
Once upon a time I might have been myself,
but I’d not be able to tell you when.
(Hour 6)
Where the Earth Ends
“Where the Earth Ends”
who am I to say
if the the earth is flat
~ or not, for
I’ve only seen the sandy
shores, with its white foamy edges
I’ve not been beyond
that blue horizon
I’ve found rocky ledges
where the ocean rages against the coast
I’ve not been beyond
those jagged cliffs
when you’ve not been
beyond the edges
do we really know
if it has an end
As Ought To Be….
Like one in a dark cell having a peep at the faraway dawning of another day,
I see the world just as it ought to be.
Straight as our dealings with each other,no intellectual robbery in the guise of colonialism.
Every snail moving at its pace towards civilisation.
Straight as with a stray bullet, where all actions are for common good and not whats to be gained in return.
A world guided by humanistic feelings, not one tied together with the bandage of “What goes around come around.”
David Byrne Street
I say I live on David Byrne Street.
With its village academy at one end and
Firehouse 19 on the other, it reminds me of Byrne pontificating on the lives of people
in ‘Flyoverville’ in “The Big Country” from More Songs About Buildings and Food.
Is the presence of a World Market (does Byrne shop there? Costco seems more likely his style.)
just around the corner scarily coincidental?
Cue Rod Serling?
Byrne’s ironic refrain, “I wouldn’t live there if you paid me,”
sends a smile to my face as I walk home, passing
Westporters out Westporting.
Who am I to judge when, eons ago, I was one of them.
On nearby, unnamed streets the sirens shrill.
Odd couples
I watch youtube videos
of animals as
prayers of hope and
possibility
We seem lost
in our self-absorbtion
and yet
yearn to connect
with the world of living beings
magpie dog
cat tiger
dog turkey
elephants lion
orangutang dog
cat dog
We need to challenge
our assumptions
of the world
Hour 6: The Earth is Flat
Version 1:
The earth is actually flat
And over the edge you see people that are happy.
Version 2:
The earth is actually flat.
Hear me out, I can prove it.
All evidence suggests that
Life is but a figment of our imagination
Where each of us creates our own reality –
Meaning the earth is flat.
Also the sky is green but never purple
And water is a solid through which everything can pass.
Fish are actually flying creatures and birds
Walk on air with their feathery legs
Growing out of their shoulders instead of their bums.
Trees can talk but humans are unable to think on their own,
Their ideas download from invisible spores sent from galaxies
Far, far away where existence is only an option.
All of our intrusive thoughts are real
And our dreams are written by little creatures living in our hair
Making us miserable to the point that we must
Create an illusion of reality that certainly is not real.
How else can someone even fathom to imagine
That earth is in the shape of a ball?
Insanity.