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lunes, 27 de mayo de 2013

Foto Abstracta 2692 Visiones de nuestro naufragio - Visions of our shipwreck


Deep colors sometimes seep
through misty mornings
and we use them to tip-toe
gingerly over the shards
of this icy foundation, a
framework that once buoyed
us, but now only toys with
our sinking sailing skills. 

See, there are memories 
shining with the sheen of time,
o captain, my captain….and I 
salute you for those. 









domingo, 26 de mayo de 2013

Foto Abstracta 2691 Sueño de una noche de Primavera - Spring Night's Dream










Hoy varios poetas dedicarán poemas a fotos abstractas de este blog. Desde aquí quiero darles las gracias y transmitirles  mi satisfacción y alegría.
Iré poniendo los enlaces a los poemas conforme los vaya conociendo.


Today several  poets dedicated poems to abstract photos of this blog. From here I want to thank and convey my satisfaction and joy.
I'll post links to the poems as the get to know.




sábado, 25 de mayo de 2013

Foto Abstracta 2690 El final del amor - The End of Love











Hoy varios poetas dedicarán poemas a fotos abstractas de este blog. Desde aquí quiero darles las gracias y transmitirles  mi satisfacción y alegría.
Iré poniendo los enlaces a los poemas conforme los vaya conociendo.


Today several  poets dedicated poems to abstract photos of this blog. From here I want to thank and convey my satisfaction and joy.
I'll post links to the poems as the get to know.




miércoles, 22 de mayo de 2013

Abstract Photo 2687 Crystal Landscape 106 Ships full of hopes













At this point history
breaks free of its prison.

After a million-year lockdown
and hard-pressed in rock layers,

these planispirals shatter
a thousand ocean drops.

Clear as crystal they crest
the waves of time.

Leaping into the now,
their sculptured beauty

brings a long lost past
capturing human eyes

for the first time.



we walked the sand
as the tide moved away
looking for colored glass,
sea blue, sail white, golden amber,
the palest of green
yes, he said,
bits of flotsam
from ancient ships,
crystalline ships that once sailed
under gossamer wings,
their hulls of finest quartz and amethyst
sparkling in the sun
clear as the seas on which they moved.
under full sail,
they were an enchanting sight
moving across the cerulean waters
in the clear light of day-
ahhh, but at night,
the reflection of stars
glistened across the shimmering deck
lighting the ships with an internal spark-
my, it would have been a sight to see.
but now,
all that is left
of the great crystalline ships
that once sailed the clear blue seas…
and he handed me a shard of sparkling sea glass,
the palest of greens
                                                                                    Sea Glass - kathleen Everett

lunes, 20 de mayo de 2013

Foto Abstracta 2685 Impulso hacia la eternidad - Impulse toward eternity












Upon Reflection

Listening to the world,
do I filter out distortions
or add them?

When looking through my lens
do I see enemies or
do I see friends?

What do you perceive
from the other side of your eyes
and mind?

And when the world
looks back at me…
what’s the version that it sees?

Mary Bach - Writing in the Bachs 



the little chinese girl
(with forest hair)
teeter totters

—–feet to feet,
——–(green neon laces)

as the elderly librarian

——-slow-scans
cd–

——dvd–  (i yawn)
———a couple books–

checKs for scraTches,
beep-loads silence, sparKs
of electricity, (felt only
on the thin skin
of my neck),


books piled on a stack,
reTurned, warm with fingerprints,
dive boldly back into the circuit,


& the cat has human eyes,
like horses that i talked to
in a painting by chagall
(there was a weird sense of trust, i swear
they moved their heads toward me)


& where would a painter put us,
as we throw no shades
nor offer color, i sang in the car today
(self-invented, life to tune)


but no one knows,
& now stand,
fish in row, two of three books un-read,
(sorry, but the painter wouldn’t know),


nor the little girl–
nor the water-carrier
with diffusing face,


he would proceed,
balancing two rim-filled buckets on his stick,
(with o-shaped legs) &
whistling on his way–


just like we all do

Ask me what I cherish most of all and I
Can only answer the one place
I am always drawn to, a spot in between
The has been and the infinity of my thoughts.
There the trees are red. Their leaves, the color
Of Homer’s wine dark seas, sigh the sighs
Of sustenance for my heart that always hungers
To be released from the limitations of my body.
Some landscapes are dry and hard to cross.
Others, filled with hills, mountains, deep valleys
And weather that plagues a traveler. Here
The world is flat, with no impediments,
The views are all horizons reaching out
Beyond the bonds that hold me.
The air is always placid, moving just
To feel I am being caressed by the hands
Of invisible lovers unceasing in their ardor.
The grasses grow in shades of blue to mimic
The differences the sky assumes as the sun
Moves in erratic ways keeping rhythm
With the water that runs in shallow rivers
I know will take me a lifetime to cross each one,
But then, my soul is not my heart and dances
In and out from form to form at will.
As for contention with time’s distraction,
I measure the passage of the moment
By the marvels of things created
And miraculous aspects of things existing.
What is more important to cherish
Than all this.

Marvels of Things Created and Miraculous Aspects of Things Existing - KB

viernes, 17 de mayo de 2013

Foto Abstracta 2682 Suspiros tristes, lágrimas cansadas - Sighs sad, tears tired



Suspiros tristes, lágrimas cansadas,
Que lanza el corazón, los ojos llueven,
Los troncos bañan y las ramas mueven
  De estas plantas, a Alcides consagradas;

                            

                                            Luis de Góngora






Limbo Delirium