July 17, 2016
Poets who should be on your list but probably aren’t could be a most extensive list. Once you discover Szymborska you will find yourself returning to her again and again. Here, in prose, savor her perspective.
I admit that I find the question of life beyond Earth quite interesting, but still I’d prefer not to have it settled too quickly and definitively. For example, I’m cheered, not disappointed, by the…
Source: Wislawa Szymborska: Cosmic Solitude
September 23, 2014
the substance of a shadow in tall grass
Duned in in Delaware
Painting by ntaylorcollins (c)2014
I wrote this fragment a couple of years ago in a journal on one of those days when nature and I found harmony. This past Sunday such harmony found me again at one of my favorite Delaware beaches, Bethany Beach.
I spent the day painting while my grandson had a grand time running in and out of the pounding surf and building various structures in the damp cool sand. Gulls, kites, the small advertising plane with bright red banner in tow provided our overhead entertainment as clouds formed and reformed in an ever-less threatening array of rain clouds. For most of the day, the clouds dipped low enough to provide a hazy fog when mixed with the sea blues and grays.
Buried beyond the replenished dunes, housetops took on the muted colors of the day. Dune grasses struggle to keep a foothold and the low snow fencing help provide traction to the ever shifting sands. It used to be you could sit on the boardwalk or the seaward facing porches to a full view of the ocean. The current dune situation is much higher than the boardwalk and the best view is from southern-end high rises or from the vantage point of the beach.
There was little hint of shadows in these tall grasses as the shifting clouds grayed the colors of the day. As I captured this overcast mood on the houses, I was trying to decide if they are content to be nestled in behind the dune or whether they are standing on tiptoe peering over this powerful bulkhead.
If the past is any indication of the future, this dune will, too, soon pass. Or should that be — this dune will to soon pass… For now, I plan to get down there every possible day this fall to capture this fluid evanscent scene…
July 7, 2014
In the emergency room a few years ago, they said, “You probably have an aneurysm.”
I remember – a sigh – I think it was me who did that. My only thought… This can’t be good.
This can’t be good. My first thought at this moment.
A Medicare card arrived today. It has my name on it. MY NAME… MY NAME on it.
It’s better than hearing you might have an aneurysm but…but…
But… I’m not ready to lose the baby in my boomer…
But…but… I’m not ready to lose the baby in my boomer…
April 8, 2014
2014 Poetry Month
For special writing projects, I keep a separate journal. This year for National Poetry Month I chose an old lined journal of 256 pages. It’s canvas with faux leather corners and spine with a red ribbon book mark.
Handwritten thoughts are still my choice of entry into the writing process. It’s totally a part of an analog process when doing the creative flow part. When it’s time to start editing, I become digital and work at my computer.
April 8, 2014
As I enter Day 8 of National Poetry Month, I’m up to page 36 in my journal. I start a new one each time I have a specific project I want to keep intact. Today’s selection is based on a philosopher of interest. I hope you check out his work. Poetry, fire and closed spaces are a few topics he explores.
We are never real historians, but always near poets, and our emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of a poetry that was lost. Gaston Bachelard