Art and the philosophy of life

Posts tagged ‘poem’

Monsters, a poem

empty street between buildings during night time

this is where the monsters live
in the shadows
in the doorways
in the alleys
in the darkness
they come out at night
because that’s
when they can see us
when they can smell us
when they can count our heartbeats
and taste our fear
night
is when the monsters
come out to play
just a friendly
reminder

 

Photo:  Morica Pham
Unsplash

A lot of us REALLY like snakes…especially when we are in our Medusa mood. Definitely then. Poem

Portrait Photo of Woman With Face Art

Medusa was quite fond of snakes
She took them everywhere
She wore them ’round Her ankles
She wore the in Her hair
She carried them throughout the day
And slept with them at night
To see Her walking down the street
Was truly quite a sight
Her face was always veiled
One looked turned men to stone
But the loving haunting Goddess
Was never all alone
The moving hissing serpents
Were all that She adored
In truth
When faced with humans
She because extremely bored
The gods made up some stories
About this Goddess who
Gave birth to every one of them
A thing they could not do
Then enter waring Perseus
Who took Her for his foe
He went to cut off Her sweet head
As most of you do know
But Medusa knew the future
The present
Past
As well
and Perseus wasn’t real
As far as She could tell
So She went about Her business
Being wise and strong
Caressing Her beloved snakes
All day
And all night long

 

Photo:  Wilson Victorino
Pexels

This is Bullet…a poem

selective focus photography of brown birdtiny sparrow
brave and daring
like a bullet
you shoot
through the air
wings tight at your sides
waiting for the right moment
to open them
and fly

It’s what we are…

Portrait Photo of Man

we are walking
breathing
libraries
all of our stories
shelved
in something called
memory
our books
cannot be borrowed
or even translated
into every language
now and then
we edit
adding or subtracting pages
or words
that will make our stories
more to our liking
but all of our books
are temporary
we take them with us
when we leave the game
that’s what our books
have in common
they all end
exactly the same way

 

Photo:  Leroy Skalstad
Pexels

Sometimes…

man in gray t-shirt and gray pants walking on gray concrete pavement

Sometimes
the artist
becomes
the art

 

Photo:  Juhø Man
Unsplash

Prickles… the hedgehog

White Hedgehog in Grass

someone called me a
hedgehog
the other day
and it made me feel bad
while I do sometimes
live in a hedge
I am not a hog
I always share
and I’m very
nice
humans
should
be more aware
of names they call
others

 

Photo:  Pixabay

Our lives…

green grass

our lives
are like photographs
each has a
negative
where the color
is different
where our vision
has a beauty of it’s own
when held to the light
we live in both places
one more than the other
at least that’s what we
believe to be true
but no one really
knows anything
for sure
maybe our choices
put us in one place
or the other

 

Jr Korpa
Unsplash

Twas the eve before Chickmas…a poem, which was read in the kitchen to the hens.

Twas
the
eve
before
chickmas
and
all
through
The
Coop
the
chicklets
were
peeping
and
looking
for
loot
they
ate
all
the
cookies
the
bread
and
the
corn
and
nothing
was
left
for
the
next
Chickmas
morn

 

the
hens
shook
their
feathers
and
went
right
to
work
chirping
and
peeping
they
turned
with
a
jerk
to
see
their
sweet
chicklets
all
fuzzy
and
bright
they
knew
they’d
be
cooking
well
into
the
night

 

tiny
wings
started
flapping
and
joy
filled
the
air
cuz
the
meaning
of
Chickmas
is
to
love
share
and
care

 

 

Post Scrip:  This poem was a collaborative effort by chicklets, Zack, Martha and Zoe, who, with the backing of the other chicklets, wanted to thank the hens for their hard work.

The chicklets raided the kitchen and ate most of the treats for the party and for Christmas morning.  The hens, knowing that would happen, hid quite a bit of the food they had prepared.  Still, they put on their aprons and got to work, and in no time at all, the pantry was filled to the brim. The chicklets were going to be kept out of the kitchen for the rest of the day, however, but the chicklets kind of expected that.

Merry Chickmas Eve to all!.

Shall we dance?

Geese, Field, Wild Geese, Feathers

she saw him
across the field
she honked
he turned
and the
dance
began

YOU ARE HERE…

white neon light signage

we are always
HERE
there’s no place else
we can possibly be
but
HERE

wherever
HERE is
if we’re there
we’re
HERE

some might say
you’re there
but their there
is your
HERE
because
wherever you are
is your
HERE

you can only be
there
to someone else

 

PHOTO:  John Baker
Unsplash

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