Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Abandoned Voices

Abandoned Voices #2
I can’t keep the magic
happening
while the sky peels
back the gray.
Instead, I make an appointment
to speak to Dr. Such
and so the moment
melts away.

Same scene. Second glance. A vision that keeps turning my head. To walk the valley is difficult. To rise above circumstances, a feat.

The answers to life are buried deep inside each of us. It is the voices we tend to hear that promise love or hope or gifts that steer us off course. We tremble at conflict and derision and loss.

What magic do you hold inside that keeps you moving toward a goal? And when do you become an enemy to prized dreams and visions? What setbacks or traps have you allowed to sabotage your destination?

The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.

W.B. Yeats

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry, Soul Journal

Abandoned Voices

Abandoned Voices #1
To taste the air.
To know the wind.
To watch a bird
take flight
and welcome home
freedom’s fight.

To touch the ground’s
growing heartbeat.
To know our day’s bleak
as we are weak
to ever soar above.

If we understood each waking hour, what sound emerges for us? What lays at the edge of every step we take? Is freedom ever found?

The glimmer of hope rings true until the descent brings one closer. So how does one revive the home fire when all the logs are burnt?

I hope to continue Abandoned Voices through a series of photos that capture thoughts and answer questions. This being the first photograph, edited.

Posted in Art, Musings, Photography, Poetry

Thursday Doors —Sound Dreams

Letting Go of Control, 2020

Look deep within
to find the shape of you.

In the bliss of life, we sail.
Although nightmares prevail.

Dreams are doors to the unconscious. Yesterday’s dream had no picture. Audio only.

I know I had this dream as someone let me know I was in a euphoric state of happiness while deeply unaware. In this state, I released small sighs of glee and excitement.

I do remember the emotions now after being questioned this morning. I was reminded of the experience and I want to understand more. I searched for imageless dreaming and found relatively little on the subject.

So what would an awareness of life be like if we never sensed objects? What door would mean anything? Every step would be a transport to eternity.

So sleep well friends. Rest a while and may you be blessed with sweet dreams. Sound fantasy without image to bitter the taste.

Have any of you ever had such dreams? I am curious if anyone has leads to read further on the subject. Please send links!!! 😘❤️

Norm 2.0 Thursday Doors

Posted in Art, Poetry

Did you come?

Flicker 4/20/2020

Can anyone hear the lark sing
I wonder. The rain knows
the words that twirl
to form the song
inside this vacant heart. You
removed all the furniture

placed into another room
wallpapered with old paintings. Never
knowing which was your color
i painted the reds of maple blooms
spring leaves only a few days old

they held no shape for us to know
how these days would go. And
now they bleed into years
of birthdays spent walled between plexiglass.
Yesterday’s reflection lied

as eyes peered to watch a head linger
a long pause …
the window hurts from all the noise
it rattles from my fist
poised to strike against me.

Posted in Art, Poetry, quotes

Iron Sharpens Iron

timid soul sparks light
a feeble space to wonder
sharpen iron words

And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Thursday Doors (Open or Shut)

The heart is the door to your soul.

What doors do you require to walk through, to understand yourself? Your neighbor’s door? Your back door? A stranger’s door?

Jesus said, ‘I am the door’ (John 10:7) in order to make it clear that no one can come to the Father except through Him. 

The church
of and for
and is
the people.
I am ill.
My heart is broken
in need of deep repair
and I wept at the sign
hung around my neck
that read “tired soul”.

Worcester MA has many beautiful church buildings. These church doors were closed so no inside photos. So why do churches lock their doors? Why do we feel it is okay to criticize these doors being locked versus locking our home’s doors? And to be fair, they posted a sign to try the doors on a side street. So when did I stop knocking?

Wesley United Methodist Church

Thanks to Norm 2.0 Thursday Doors for hosting all the doors weekly.

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Tread Lightly

be kind creation
smile on your birding friend
glimpse the miracle

Snowy Owl. Plum Island MA 1/25/2020. Atlantic Ocean.

I hesitated to post my photos of my snowy owl trip since the owl photos are a bit blurry. But hell people, it is a Snowy Owl! And my first encounter. But certainly not the last.

This bird is down right stunning, majestic, gorgeous, and oh so patient. I watched the wind ruffling her feathers, her ever alert, keen sense of hearing, and her head turning to see the four corners of the tundrous field for close to an hour. She flew but never far away. She glided as a seaplane hovering the waters.

My heart skipped beats as I encountered this regal bird. I will talk of this for years to come. I thank you for being part of this monumental day. I left the island with a skip in my step. And hope.

Field notes to those wanting to take part in life’s sacred dance. Please remember to tread lightly. Earth’s preciousness is a gift we should treasure and never take for granted.

Posted in Music Video, Photography, Poetry

Have you ever?

When you face challenges, you naturally search for answers.

Have you, like me, ever fallen under a woven world’s wordspell? Some of Anthony’s poems on Hands in the Garden appear sensible and others completely obscure. For most of Sink to Surface, you enter another dimension. And even then you may never comprehend the road map.

Anthony Gorman’s first book may be the last place you think to look when in need. But perhaps it should be the first. And not necessarily to find answers, to solve problems. Rather to take a reprieve from life itself. Wander in wonderlands and eat chocolate and dream visions of peace.

©️Jeanne

Anthony’s work is never the ordinary. Do not expect truths to be spelled out in black and white. Expect to sift through technicolor visions and wade in waist deep, until you are ready to drown.

Sink to Surface: Poems by Anthony Gorman to purchase in US.

Sink to Surface: Poems by Anthony Gorman I believe the Canadian link.

“My portion of proceeds will be going directly to an ethically sound and creative cause called The Art for Aid Project, which aims to bring art supplies to indigenous communities to assist in the process of internal healing. To find out more about their mission, click below.

https://www.artforaid.ca/

Thank you for your time and support and thanks for sharing in the journey

Love and Blessings to you.

GG”

Visit Hands in the Garden blog for more poems by Anthony Gorman.