I Can See Clearly Now / Carry On Tuesday /

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Carry ON Tuesday is a weekly writing opportunity. This week we have a line from a seventies tune, I Can See Clearly Now, by Johnny Nash.

So I started this “thing” and had no idea in the world where it was going (maybe you can tell! aha.). Who knows where these things come from? It’s a lot like dreaming. You think about a dream you had last night and wonder, “Why did I dream that?”

I just started thinking about couples who are miserable. And then there are the news stories when someone decides to burn down their “happy home”. It’s difficult to understand why someone would do this especially when they murder their family members!!

It’s all very depressing to discuss. Writing poetry about it is a lot easier for some reason. So, in this situation, the “loved one” gets away! And the pyro guy has an inkling (before he dies) about the reality of his life.

He can see clearly now! Isn’t that cool? Or hot, maybe, in this case. Ouch. Burning up is one of the worst ways to go! Please drive carefully.


I can see clearly
Through this open door.
But would not glide
Into these moonlit woods.
Without you by my side.

Awaken silven hosts
And take us ere she weeps.
This cannot be the moment
To hesitate or sleep.

For time’s an empty bottle
And thirst is our reward
For daily minding thistles
In our desert bone backyard.

But I can see
This moment.
Angels in the sky!

Take us home together.
As we are one inside!

A candle near the window
Reaches up the wall
The door is wreathed
In flickering light
And echoes of their calls.

Gather up your tresses
My dear and follow me
For now we are delivered
From certain misery!

But when I looked
There was no one
My love had disappeared.
And left me with a raging pyre
In wretched underwear.

So yes, I can see clearly
On this eve of pain,
We come into this world alone
And leave again this way.


Metamorefishes / Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night / Dylan Thomas / Photo Theme For Thursday / Style

D's Writing, Favorites, More Photos, Virginia Beach, Well-known Quotations


1. (in an insect or amphibian) The process of transformation from an immature form to an adult form in two or more distinct stages.
2. A change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural means.

Metamorefishes was the theme of this sand sculpture at the Neptune Festival in Virginia Beach several years ago. It’s also a great play on a long word about transformation. The poignant thing about this type of art is its impermanent nature. But here we have the suggestion that it will live on in some other form. It does live on in a photo, of course, but eventually that will be gone as well. Does it exist in a world of ideas, immutable and infinitely available to us?

The Photo Theme for Thursday is Style (Hair, Makeup, Perfume bottles, Mirrors, Formal Wear, Dresses,…). I like her hairstyle! And her formal wear is great, too! The best. Au natural.

Here is another photo from the same part of Virginia Beach. It shows a young lady with long hair calmly surfing a wave. Her expression is serene. And, once again, we have an expression of the fleeting nature of beauty in our world.  A beautiful form and beauty in action.

What can we learn from the idea of metamorphosis?  My thoughts are that we all have to get old if we stay around long enough. We dissolve in time. But let’s try to do it with style folks! Walk a mile, two, four or even eight every day. Or find some other form of exercise you enjoy or, at least, tolerate. Let’s remember what it feels like to be young. Visualize it in your mind and experience metamorphosis.  It is an ineluctable part of life.  As Dylan Thomas wrote. . .

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
[[wiki:Do not go gentle into that good night]].

Walking On A Beach

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Walking is
The pain down low
But up above
A crystal home
And miles we go
Before we
Lie together in
The golden tide.
Miles and miles
Before you sleep
No more  tossing
Pillow creep.
Walking is
The pain down low
But up above
We live alone.
Moments seem
A world away
The sand is running
Past today.
How I wish
You were beside
Walking  is
The wish we hide.
May we always
Live in bliss
May the shallows
Help save this
Walking is
The pain we know
When the tide
Singes our toes.
Walk forever
Feel the sun
Love the waves
Embrace someone.

Until you’re done
The waves will come
For every one.


The Man And The Bear

Blogs or Posts, D's Poetry

The Man And The Bear

He makes his bed in the morning
And he writes in the afternoon,
Then he formally dines in the evening
Before he returns to his room.

The hedges are trimmed with the clippers
And the pantry is stocked with some care,
But the attic has never been entered
Because in it roams a large bear.

Sometimes he hears the bear snuffling
Or a sound like the scratching of walls,
But never in daylight is missing
His wife or his friends or his dog.

But one day he came down for breakfast
And found sitting there in his chair,
This bear in the bonnet and apron
His wife wears when making eclairs.

“Good morning” he said with some fervour
As the bear cut some bread with a spoon,
“It surely will  be a real hot one
It’s already so warm in this room.”

The bear seemed to smile as he gathered
Himself up and jumped on the man,
Knitting his ears with incisors
And tying up other loose ends.

His wife returned home somewhat later
From her shopping trip down on Main Street,
And found him in bed with her bonnet
Just as cold as her delicate feet.

And this is the end of the story
As she thought her man died in his sleep,
Dreaming of her and her cooking
Upon perfectly fitted green sheets.




Snap / dVerse ~ Poets Pub

Blogs or Posts, D's Photos, D's Poetry, Favorites, Music, Virginia Beach


Birds at dawn
Crashing surf
May I catch
Your mirth?
Booming moments
Ceding waves
Will this photo
“Op” behave?
On screen,
Will the colors
Be surreal?
In the dark lit
Digit womb
Does the photo
Edit steal?
A moment’s love
And flight,
Those eyes,
Your style.
Will I capture
Cries in space,
Or cast ideals

Mythos/ Del Mar
[audio:http://www.virginiaphotos.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/03-Del-Mar.mp3|titles=03 Del Mar]

On The Night Before Christmas

Blogs or Posts, D's Poetry

It was the night before Christmas
And all through the house
The children were sleeping
And dreaming of louse.
The TSA groper
Who touched Grandma’s hair.
The loud politician
Who wants her bank shares.

Still they all hoped as they fitfully slept
That Santa would shatter the ghosts in their heads.
Pay off the mortgage
Fix up the car
Empty the bottles in stepfather’s bar.

And then they all heard near the roof such a clatter
They knew in their hearts it must be
The great Santa.
But what did they know of the world that dark night?
Or the diver next door who was just now in flight.

He fell from the window a sack on his back
St. Nick’s alter ego a thief dressed in black
A man on a mission with dough on his mind
Now lost in a snowdrift for police to find.

It seemed there would be no true Christmas this night
No Santa or elves and no cries of delight.
But then just before the first cracks of dawn
North Korea decided to lob a few bombs
While this time its neighbor responded in kind!
Countries allied with each joined in the fray
Lighting the dawn brighter than brightest day.

Old Santa was doubtful he could find his way
As mushrooming clouds sprouted up round his sleigh!
And Rudolph’s nose underneath this display
Twas no help at all. . .

He was just in the way.

Then the children awakened to hear such a racket
They wondered what possibly could be the matter
Not knowing this morning that lost in the wind
Tiny particles swirled around spelling their end.

But Santa was not just a cheerful old man
Or an overgrown elf with misguided fans.
He still had one piece of magical coal
And now he decided to give it a go.

He opened his bag under twinkling stars
Silently triggering the biggest by far
Nova explosion the world had ever seen.

For a second it was just a tiny bright light
Then it silently burst overwhelming the night
Leaving the earth in its wake just a speck
A present for all the true pains in the neck.

* * * * * * * * * *

Twas the morning of Christmas
As children awoke
To glistening snowflakes and rainbows above.
The fairies and elves
Flitted round their bright faces
Laughing and charming them all with their graces.
Grandparents lost years ago in sad times
Ran to their children
Dressed in their prime.
Tears turned to crystals
Of many bright colors
Santa arrived
As true joy was discovered.

Then I heard Santa say
As I felt his keen sight

“Merry Christmas to all”
“And to all a good night”

But then under his breath he said one more thing

“Aggressors everywhere have got to beware”
“Or Santa’s game”
“Will fix your hardware.”

The National Zoo/ Scott Adams/ Pablo Picasso/ Leonardo da Vinci

D's Photos, Well-known Quotations

Washington Zoo The National Zoo, originally uploaded by Davidlind.

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep. ~Scott Adams

Painting is just another way of keeping a diary. ~Pablo Picasso

Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up. ~Pablo Picasso

Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen. ~Leonardo da Vinci

New Poem Needs Readers

Blogs or Posts

I have been rewriting my new poem Learning How To Kiss online since yesterday.  And I think it is better than it was yesterday.  But I don’t know how anyone feel about it except Time Thief who very kindly said some things about it.

So I would appreciate it if you the reader would send it to SU  StumbleUpon or your favorite outlet for this sort of thing so it will receive some exposure.

Everyone Needs Beauty/ John Muir/ B. Cybril/ John Keats

D's Photos

, originally uploaded by Davidlind.

The poetry of the earth is never dead. ~John Keats

You can’t hide your true colours as you approach the autumn of your life. ~Author Unknown

When the bold branches
Bid farewell to rainbow leaves –
Welcome wool sweaters.
~B. Cybril

Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul. ~John Muir

Autumn Leaves

Blogs or Posts, David's Writing

, originally uploaded by Davidlind.

This is a photo from last year about this time. I took it at Maymont Park downtown and thought I would put it up again. Apologies to those who have already seen it. We are still waiting for some autumn color around here. The temperature is supposed to be mid 80’s this afternoon.

It’s a cheerful photo and one that reminds me why I enjoy photography so much.

Poetry is important too. The Boss Poem is just a simple little thing and it is being viewed now over three hundred times per day. It’s not StumbleUpon either. It’s search engine traffic and people are apparently concerned about their relationship with their boss.

That’s not surprising. Job concerns have to be high on a great number of lists these days.

Lots of activities may be cut back. But we can all still blog can’t we? We can write prose and poetry. We can take photos and we can offer encouraging comments to each other.

Taking photos is a lot cheaper when you don’t have to develop film. And everyone already has a computer. Maybe dial ups will make a comeback though.

Maybe the photos should be smaller and fewer to the page.

I don’t know. But the weather is terrific and it’s relaxing to run out into nature somewhere and start looking for the beauty wherever she may be.

It’s a recipe for dealing with the emotions that accompany  changing times. Document the changing foliage. Take photos of the clouds.

Update// Well this explains all the readers. . .

Boss’s Day (also known as Bosses Day or National Boss Day) is a secular holiday celebrated[citation needed] on October 16 in the United States. It has traditionally been a day for employees to thank their boss for being kind and fair throughout the year. The holiday has been the source of some controversy and criticism in the United States, where it is often mocked as a Hallmark Holiday. Recently, sites like Hallmark have recognized the holiday with a contemporary spin

from Wikipedia

Museum of Fine Arts/ Richmond Virginia/ Pierre-Auguste Renoir/ Pensive (La Songeuse)

D's Photos, Well-known Quotations

Painting is just another way of keeping a diary. ~Pablo Picasso

The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life. ~William Faulkner

Painting is silent poetry. ~Plutarch, Moralia: How to Study Poetry

Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen. ~Leonardo da Vinci