Have a blessed Christmas

I'm taking a week or so off over the Christmas holiday, so this will be my last post of 2008. I wish you all a blessed holiday, one where the meaning of the holiday touches your heart and brings you a peace and inner joy.

Until 2009!

Tom

PS - The picture is of a ceramic Christmas village that is part of my Christmas decorations in my home. You can click on it for a larger version

Poem: The Couple in the Corner

The Couple in the Corner

The couple in the corner
talk softly. Intimate smiles
light their faces
like the sun after fog,
breaking through
gentle conversation,
revealing the heat
of a passion undimmed
by age or familiarity.

===============

The picture (and the ones below) was taken yesterday, at "The House on Main Street", a newish German Restaurant and B&B where I had lunch after church. It was my first time there and it's a lovely place with beautiful rooms, good food, and the hosts John and Maggie George were gracious and pleasant. (OK, I have to admit, I only met John. Maggie was in the kitchen!). You can click on the pictures for larger versions.

Tom

Poem: Red Sunrise

Red Sunrise

You wake to an angry red sky to the east
and remember the old tale
of sailors and warnings,
and for a moment, you contemplate
going inside for an umbrella or a coat
more suited to storms.

But you do not, and instead drive
the the ridge and dance
in defiance of wives tales and predictions,
fanciful imaginings that missed
the softness and strength in your soul,
and when you are done, you drive off

laughing at those who fear
the sunrise on such a morning,
who miss the beauty of the moment,
anticipating the storm.

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The picture was taken near Daleville this morning. And despite the red sky, it was a shirtsleeve day, very un-Decemberish. You can click on the picture for a larger view.

Tom

Thoughts: No picture. No poem.

This morning when I went outside to drive to my favorite coffee shop the skies were amazingly beautiful with vivid indigo and pink rimmed clouds, dramatic against the silhouette of the eastern mountains. Friends who know me well know I am rarely far from my camera, but today, I didn't grab it as I went out the door and so I was forced to simply enjoy the beautiful gift of the morning sky, fleeting and stunning.

That is the problem sometimes, with being a photographer or writer. There is something in us that is always looking at what we see as a photograph or a poem or story. But there are times to simply imbibe life, and take it in, and when we do, the reality is far broader, far more amazing than anything we manage to "create" from it.

The sky this morning for instance. I could have captured a lovely picture or two, but it would not have captured the spacious broad expanse of sky, only a portion of it. It would not have captured the mysterious pink hue that the dawning sun painted the trees and building around me with. It would have so much of that. But pausing, and simply basking in God's gift of beauty, was wonderful, a pure joy.

Oh, I will continue to "create" pictures and poems. That's just part of me. But it was good to be reminded of how anything I capture is only a tiny part of what is.

Poem: Reading Jane Austen

Reading Jane Austen

Reading Jane Austen,
you recall how passion
can be gentle and quiet,
but no less strong,
no less consuming
for its' demure disposition,

a truth
reflected in a spring day,
or gentle rain,
or the clasp of two hands
while silently walking
together.

===========

Today is Jane Austen's birthday! So I wrote this poem to celebrate. The picture is from Mystic Seaport. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: The Wall

The Wall

The wall winds around the garden,
serpentine, writhing like a snake,
or river, alive somehow,
despite the ancient brick,
hundreds of years old,
that were used to build it.

For those who wish
to find their way to the garden,
it is not difficult, for
the wall is not high,
and there are no gates,
but broad openings,
so you may walk in,
if you are willing.

===========

The picture was taken at Poplar Forest, Thomas Jefferson's "other" home in Forest, Virginia. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: The Dawn of History

The Dawn of History

The early morning sun
cuts across the western mountains,
raw and sharp,
burning your eyes,
bringing tears.

Tears that do not blur,
but sharpen
your vision,
bringing the past
into clear relief.

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The picture was taken on the Blue Ridge Parkway, south of Roanoke, Virginia. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Thoughts: Not seen on TV.

Christmas gaining on you? Struggling to find what you want for everyone? This article from MSN has a slightly different take on gift giving that doesn't involve a trip to the mall.

Tom

Poem: New Blood from Old Wounds

New Blood from Old Wounds

The bride shimmers in white,
the color of promise and hope,
a moment of quiet
after the tidal wave of joy
that was the wedding.

You linger,
in the shadows of the sanctuary,
alone where your tears will not betray you,

Tears of memory, of your own joy
so many years before, tears
of the loss of that joy,
the betrayal of love,
of your own failures,
of the pain.

But the moment passes,
and your lens changes
as you remember God's promise:
that hope lies in him,
and never fails.

And new tears from old wounds fall,
tears not of loss, but thankfulness,
for the knowledge that hope is always available
to those who open their heart.

Poem: Two Shoes

Two Shoes

In the morning you look up and see them,
shoes, neatly tied together, hanging from a wire,
an oddity in the crisp December air, one

that, you are sure, has a story;
perhaps of rage, or exuberance, or folly;
or even an adolescent revenge.

But there are no clues, just these two sneakers,
hanging mute, waiting
for your imagination to run wild.

And you think of all the things you do not know,
all the mysteries of your life,
small and large. Mysteries

of love and betrayal and unexpected grace,
and you wonder how much knowing
would have changed your heart, and

whether mystery is a blessing
or a curse.

===========

The two shoes in the picture above have hung on the wire outside my house since Halloween. I am sure there is a story there somewhere. In the meanwhile, I let them serve as inspiration for this poem. You can click on the image for a larger version.

Tom

Thoughts: Bringing Zen to Writing

I love good writing in all forms, be it poetry, fiction, non-fiction, even something as prosaic as a brief e-mail.

I've thought a lot about this because beyond my general love of writing, my work too, depends on words. In my other life (as in not being a poet, which while it is my first love, puts little bread on the table) as VP of a fairly decent sized technology firm, much of what I do involves writing - reports, proposals to clients, speeches, lesson plans, marketing materials, e-mails..... and while I think I do a pretty good job with most of these, I sometimes don't give it the thought perhaps I should.

Enter a recent article from one of my favorite sites (yep, one from the list over there on the right of this blog), Think Simple. This article is called "Bringing Zen to Writing". It's all about bringing a certain consciousness and clarity to writing, and whether you are an old pro, or new to writing a wide variety of materials, it's good, concise advice and a good read. So if you do a lot of writing, it's worth a visit.

The author of this blog is Tina Su, and it's worth spending some time there reading her other articles as well. She's one clear thinking young woman, and she heads each article with great photographs and links to the photographer. (You regular readers know how I love great photographs.)

Tom

PS: The picture is from Mystic Seaport, CT, of a boat and it's tools. you can click on it for a larger version.

Poem: Isaiah 55:2-3

Isaiah 55:2-3

Tell me.
What can you do to make life more abundant?
What one belief rethought,
one pain released,
fear faced
or chance taken?

What one tiny change,
all yours,
would make the difference for you
today?

===============

The picture was taken Thanksgiving afternoon, playing in the leaves with the kids from my extended family in Richmond, Virginia. It was my little gift to myself that afternoon. You can click on the picture for a larger version. The reference verse is from my regular bible reading and spawned the thought that spawned the poem.

Tom

Poem: At Six

At Six

You lay in bed,
warm under the quilt,
listening to the morning arrive,

the sound of birds announcing the sun,
the moan of a bitter wind from the mountain,
and the rustle of trees, shivering.

You listen to distant traffic,
the noise of distant lives beginning their day.

You listen to the cacauphony in your head,
hopes, fears, failures, wonderings
at the puzzle of your life,

a puzzle not yet complete,
the picture still half formed, barely
showing the journey you are on,

and you lay under the quilt for another moment,
hoping for sleep,
for peace,
for dreams.

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The picture was taken near the Peaks of Otter, along the Blue Ridge Parkway. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom