The camera’s eye
Swivels and rotates
Focusing and unfocusing
Trying to capture you
In your purest form
Or your darkest moment
To swallow you whole
In the blink of an eye
It is watching you
With it’s great eye
Extending and retracting
The glass reflects
Back on you
It reaches out for
Your sprit
Your very soul
That brilliant shine
The smile
Always on your lips
The laugh
Bubbling out of you
And the life
That never dies
Now lives on
In the camera’s
Unforgiving eye
That swivels and rotates
As it watches
Be careful
It is always watching
Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category
Camera
Wednesday, December 2nd, 2009 1
Boy Soldier
Monday, November 30th, 2009I wrote this poem in english class today, I think I like it. Not sure where it came from though.
The razor runs over the boy’s head
He doesn’t move or flinch
Just stares ahead into oblivion
With deadlocked eyes
Into a future of unknown miseries
With eyes held firm in a choice
He had no part in making
They shave his head
Put a warm gun in his hands
And teach him how to kill
Teach him to steal a life without remorse
They say Learn fast boy
Or get ready to die young
They smack him around
Take the boy’s soft exterior
And turn it into cold hard stone
Rip out his heart and memories
Of a time when safety was a given
And love was always near
Take all that he ever knew
And throw it away
The boy soldier hefts up his gun
His lips sealed and dead eyes
He has nothing left
But the eternal fight for his soul
Everyone runs from him
Like he is a monster
Because he is a monster
One they made him into
Ripped him from his home
And gave him hate
To battle an unknown enemy
There is no escape for him
Just a bloody sentence
That he has no choice but to accept
They label him and fear all like him
And run at the sight of his gun
Run they yell
It is the boy soldier come home again
But he won’t let it continue
As he stands over the body
Of a little girl the same age as him
A bullet in her chest
Blood blooming on her white dress
Like a ruby flower blooming
A bullet he shot from his gun
The tip of the gun digs into the earth
As he falls to his knees beside her
He grips the dusty earth
As he watches the last breathes
Leave the dying angel
Look how far he has fallen
And for what, for whom
No more he swears to the dry earth
No more blood
He turns the gun around
In his rough scarred hands
Covered in dust and blood
They belong to an old man
Not a twelve-year-old boy
He put the gun to his head
And pulled the trigger
That he was taught to pull
One more time
The boy soldier fell
Next to the dead angel girl
There will be no more wars
For this tortured soul
No more rivers of blood
Just the peace he never had
But always deserved
Shopping Cart (Desperation)
Friday, November 27th, 2009
There is a baby crying
Uttering wails of fear
As its face contorts
Screaming and screaming
Sitting in a shopping cart
In a nearby empty lot
The baby looks around
Twisting from side to side
Bawling loudly
As it screams for help
But she doesn’t possess
The words to yell
Her tiny hands
Gripping the cold steel
Of the handle bar
Desperation etching
Lines of age
Into the infant’s
Soft face
The woman stands
On the other side
Of her car
She slides down
Against it as her body quakes
Her tiny frame
Rattled by her sobs
That she snuffs out
With a bony fist
The mother sits crying
Curled up into a ball
Wondering
If she should leave
Can she do it
Just walk away
As her child screams
She can’t take it
She can’t do it anymore
She is listening to her
Precious baby wailing
Just feet away
Yet so very far from her
The mother sits
On the edge of a choice
Between love and desperation
She gave everything for her child
And there is nothing left for her
She can’t even feed herself now
She has nothing left to give
Except her love
The infant
And the mother
Are separated by a car
And a long space
A need
And a lack of everything
Stands between them
As they both cry
Wishing for what
Neither of them has
Wondering what comes next
Tags: abandon, baby, cart, crying, desperation, shopping
Posted in Candid Photography, Photos, Poetry |
Posted in Candid Photography, Photos, Poetry |
The Hat
Tuesday, November 24th, 2009The woman walks
Along in a crowded street
Surrounded by people
Yet so alone
A scarf like a noose
Wrapped around her frail neck
Hands shoved deep
Into her pockets
She only looks
At the ground
The rhythmic step of her feet
Her wide hat
Shields her from the world
She ignores them
Is afraid of them
She wraps herself tighter
In what is safe and comforting
And is content in isolation
So she walks along
In a crowd of people
Without faces
The wind picks up
For a moment it whispers
A soft secret in her ear
A riddle told to fast
As the wind
Carried her hat away
The woman let out
A short little gasp
As her barrier was removed
She reached forward
Fingertips grazing it
Just out of reach
As it bounces and rolls
Along the dirty street
She chases in vain
And no one will help
Finally out of breath
And out of heart
She gives up
Standing in the crowd
Puffs of winter breath
Clouding before her as she watches
Her hat dance away
Her hair billowing about her
Watching with sad longing eyes
She stands still among thousands
As she turns to leave
A tap on her shoulder
She turns in surprise
A man stands before her
Her hat in hand
Holding it out towards her
A smile but no words
She takes it and offers
A shy little smile in return
As she starts to pull it
Back into place
He reaches out to stop her
Why
He asks her
You have such a pretty face
He smiles and lets go
Giving an impartial shrug
You don’t need to hide
You are beautiful you know
He leaves her with
His few soft words
And a knowing smile
She stands there
Hat in hand
Filled with his offerings
Her eyes are wide
And her hands slightly quake
She lifts the hat
Looking at it now
And tosses it away
She watches it
Flit and dance in the sky
Gone forever
She smiles slightly
The stranger’s knowing smile
She doesn’t need it anymore
Perfection
Saturday, November 21st, 2009Every second
Youth wasted
On planning
Adulthood
How your
Life will
End up
And should
Every second
Of life
Washed away
Never to get back
My house
My career
My husband
And family
Set in stone
Finally I
Reach my planned
Life and happiness
The perfect
Husband
Sits, reads the newspaper
Drinks coffee
He says
He loves me
The perfect
Baby
A little girl
Sits in her high chair
Angel with black hair
Pale face
Blue eyes
The perfect
Dog
Never barks
Nor bites
The perfect
House
Just as I
Had dreamed
High ceilings
In the rainy woods
The perfect
Job
Writing and teaching
Always published
Students love me
I am perfect
My life complete
Except I
Had no childhood
I wish I
Had a perfect
Childhood
I am not
Perfect
My life is incomplete
To live
A perfect life
I must
Sacrifice
Who I am
I think to myself
“This isn’t
What I wanted”
I don’t want
To be
Perfect
“This isn’t
What I wanted”
I can’t
Be perfect
Because I am
Unhappy
I look
At everything
Just as I wanted
Just as I planned
Everything
Planned out
Perfect
But now that
I have it
I don’t want it
“This isn’t
What I wanted”
I planned
So I could
Be happy
But now I have
Lost everything
That was really important
Perfection
Is a joke
You can’t be
Perfect
Because to get
Something
You must give
Something else up
To be perfect
Or happy
You choose
Bonfire
Monday, November 16th, 2009The boy sits
Alone on the beach
With glowering eyes
And a heart
Full of hate and anger
He listens to the ocean
Roaring day and night
Arms wrapped tight around
His scraped and bleeding knees
Tattoos run up his arms
Like black veins
A fire burns before him
As he stares deep into it
Watching the fickle flame
Dancing too and fro
How unfair it is
For it to be free
When he stands in chains
He waves his hand
Slowly through the flames
But he doesn’t feel the pain
He doesn’t feel anything anymore
So he takes what is left
Of his meager belongings
And throws them into the fire
It crackles and waves
Sparking to life
As it consumes another’s
The boy watches
His life go up in flames
Burning slowly to ashes
As it withers and curls
He stands
And walks away
He is done
He is finally done
Portrait of a Person (Interview)
Sunday, November 15th, 2009I know people
How so?
I can understand people
Better than most
Because I can see
Through their eyes
Feels as their hearts feel
How do you do that?
I don’t know
I just do
Well, who are you?
I don’t know truthfully
I am nothing I guess
Because I am everything
Or everyone I should say
I don’t mean I am
All powerful or all knowing
You mean like god?
Sure
I am my writing
I am my characters
Every face I paint
With my words
is me
Their face is mine
I don’ have my own anymore
I am a mosaic
Of everything I have seen
Will see
And have made
How did this happen?
I don’t know
I have always been this way
Is it hard?
Yes
It is never easy
Not having an identity
of your own
it is hard not knowing
who you really are
I can’t remember
The last time
I have seen my own face
So you are saying
You have no face?
I laugh
I guess so
I am the portrait of a person
Without a face
The Little Princess
Tuesday, November 10th, 2009I took this photo in Seattle of this little girl and it reminded me of a poem I wrote once, here it is.
There is a little girl
Sitting on the sidewalk
She cries with little
Hiccups of breath
As silver drops
Run rivers down her face
Her hair bobs with her bouncing breaths
She squeezes her eyes hut
Creasing a face
So soft and young
Making cardboard out of dough
Holding her knee in her hands
I bend as I near her
And crouch down next to her
She hiccups and sniffles
As she tilts her head my way
Her blue eyes swampy
And clouded as a stormy day
Her dress lies in tatters
A wand broken at her side
A basket of belongings
Strewn around her
As if blown into a warfield
I offer a smile
As I block the sun from her eyes
It is the least I could do
Dragging an arm across her face
She looks at me quizzically
“What’s wrong?” I ask
As I survey this battlefield
She looks from me to her dress
As she sniffles again
A Cinderella dress
Ready for the grand ball
I notice her tiara
Rattled in the snarls of her hair
“I fell and ripped my dress”
She whispers in a way only children can
Audible and loud
Yet you have to lean in to hear
“That’s alright” I reply
“Everyone falls down sometimes”
She shakes her head fiercely
As if trying to rid herself of a bad dream
“All I wanted to do”
She cried sobbing all anew now
“Was be a princess
But look at what I have done”
She points to her wand
Broken and destroyed
Looks at her dress
Ruined and dirty
“How can I be a princess now?”
“You don’t need a wand,” I say
As I pick up the pieces
“Or a dress” I put the pieces in her lap
Full of torn and ruffled clothes
“To be a princess all you need
Is a good heart and a quick mind”
Yet again I offer a smile
She tilts her head at me no longer crying
Examining me and my words
As they lay at her feet
I watch as she picks them up
Studies them and their worth
And offers me a smile back in return
Small but honest and true
“Remember that,” I say
“And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise”
I help her to her feet
She sniffles one last time
As she picks up the debris
Of a life she no longer needs
I nod and she nods
I walk past her smiling
I turn back once
And the little princess waves
I wave back
Wishing my little princess in me
Hadn’t left me so long ago
Tags: cinderella, crying, girl, little princess, wand
Posted in Candid Photography, Photos, Poetry |
Posted in Candid Photography, Photos, Poetry |
A Coin Flip
Monday, November 9th, 2009Are you afraid
Of the dark
Or just what
Lies inside of it
When you see darkness
Do you see the shadows
Or the light
That hides within
When you look
Into a mirror
Do you see yourself
Or a reflection
Staring back
As life slips
From your heart
Do you think back
Or wonder ahead
As the sun sets
Do you see
The beautiful colors
Or the impending
Darkness that it brings
Do you see
The glass as
Half full
Or half empty
Tell me which
Side of the coin
Do you prefer
Choose your side wisely
It decides your fate
Remember
Saturday, November 7th, 2009wow I just found this poem I wrote in eighth grade….. kind of interesting
I open my eyes and see you
Your soul so happy and filled with joy
Two peas in a pod always together
Arm in arm right by my side
Sun shinning on your soft face
Wind tousling your brown hair
Silence, laughing
Hiding in prickly bushes away from the world
Our little hideout made out of blackberries
One so sweet, one so sour
No one can touch us
Our world of dreams and fantasies
I open my ears and hear you
Voice so strong and filled with love
Now cracks with every word
Tears like rain fall from your round face
Hugging each other to make the cruel world go away
Darkness threatens to swallow us
Silence, screaming
Parents yelling, how could this be
Eyes once filled with spirit and light
Weighed down by a burden
They are taking you from me
Our last words farewell, goodbye
I open my heart and remember you
Tall white house, too many windows
peering out like eyes covered in fall leaves
Place of love now filled with sorrow
Impenetrable fort of bushes grown over, forgotten
Remember our promises, our whispered dreams
Remember our guards the ever-present red wood trees
Silence, crying
I miss your voice, I miss your laugh
I miss our time as best friends
Our dreams now forgotten
But I will always remember you