And he said if he had a boat
He’d go out on the ocean
And he said if he had a pony
He’d ride him on his boat
And I see a boat
It is going on on the ocean
But I don’t see a pony all together
Because riding a pony on a boat
Is silly.
Tag: Art
solar
I very much wish that I knew Whatever it is that you go do Wherever it is that you get to When the sky ceases its deep blue Replaced with an orange-purple hue.
crane
Village’s cold rain
Warmness and dryness obscured
Crane through the branches
chirping
Nights that flew Dreaming Morning dew Gleaming Skies of blue Beaming Right on queue Singing Pretty you Preening Day's anew Ringing
will you notice?
I'm not a chef But I cooked you a meal I'm not a gardener But I grew you a flower I'm not a musician But I composed you a song I'm not a photographer But I took you a photo I'm not an author But I wrote you a story I'm not a poet But I wrote you this poem I'm not an optimist But I think you'll notice me.
photo[journey]
In the interim, this site has changed its name (i.e., theroadkindoftraveled to theisswriter), and augmented its content (e.g., poetry and the odd grammar tip), but the purpose has remained the same: typing things; for me; for you. Well, now it’s changing, again. Late last summer, I purchased my first camera that wasn’t either disposable (remember those?) or a phone: a Nikon D3400. I coupled that with a Tamron SP AF17-50mm lens, and then recently added a Tamron SP 70-200mm. Neither the camera itself or the lenses are considered (at all) the best in their respective categories, but the equipment is solid enough to offer me a great starting point for this part of my creative journey.
I’ve always enjoyed photography–both viewing and taking–but my understanding of anything more complex than what my iPhone, or Android before it, offered me in that realm was beyond me. It was all, “iPhone added the ability to zoom with the camera OMG!,” megapixels, and auto-settings. Now it’s f-stops, ISO’s, and shutter speeds. What? But I’m learning–slowly, but more quickly than I anticipated, thanks to the tutelage of friend and professional photographer Hoss McBain. He answers innumerable questions, often more than once, and always with the same jovial smile and demeanor as the first time. His passion for the craft has been infectious: I’M INFECTED.
The interplay of the arts with our mood, thoughts,
and behavior matters…because it’s real.
Anyhoo, you’ll notice I’ve recently begun adding photos to blog posts (well, not the ones of me as a shirtless or robot-costumed kid, etc.), as well as a “photography” page. My hope is to not only be able to share my progress with you, but to literally add color to my posts. Photos, like music and writing, are evocative–especially to me, and often the idea for a post or poem stems from one, or vice-versa. Personally, it became too banal to simply post mere words. I want you to know what I’m seeing, listening to, or reading about when I write, because the interplay of the arts with our mood, thoughts, and behavior matters…because it’s real. And if I’ve done anything since taking the first step of this journey back in 2016, I hope I’ve been real (to you).
I hope you enjoy the photography.
Thank you for reading (and now viewing).
Best,
-j
cloudy
I like to let my poems speak for themselves, therefore I’m not particularly keen on prefacing them with any sort of context such as this. However, I feel it necessary to break that wall now so that I’m clear on one thing: I’m not depressed. If you’ve read within this space before, you’re aware that I enjoy writing about mental health–particularly my experiences with it. This is one such occasion. As always, thanks for reading:
A thought is lurking Inside me I'm aware of its Existence But I've chosen to Ignore it Not so much ignore As push it Beyond other thoughts Repressing Defending myself From its pain This is unhealthy I know this What else shall I do To forestall? Away, away please Go away Past the clouds into Deepest blue I'm certain we will Meet again Until then, away Away you.
eternity
What is eternity like?
What does one do forever?
Does one get bored?
Does one do the same thing daily?
Do days even exist anymore?
Do things begin or end?
What would happen to you?
What if you’re not there?
I’m not so sure about eternity.
I’m sure hoping you’re there.
Highland TER
My life in vintage colors Memories of simpler times Silver robots; red wagons Silly neighbors; street parades A life of unhinged laughter Amens before the altar Real Santa’s; make-believe friends Rabbit-like cars; in-car phones Within the Heights of Richmond On a Terrace named Highland Dreams wake; reality sleeps The imagined; magic reigns.
(shy)light
I wish I were a skylight; a lamp atop the tallest building in my city; I want to look out from my lookout; I want to be urban; not sub but above urban; apart from you yet a part of your experience; not a subject, but a mere object; individually insignificant, collectively brilliant; just like you, but not like you; I want you to notice me, but not see me; to light your way, while staying out of it; eradicate shadows, yet staying in mine; my facade, faceless; your afterthought, thinking about you; extroverted travel to you 299,792,458 meters per second, from the introverted refuge of my bulb.
