Stone, a new leaf from the
Chestnut Trees, dirt work
Done on ones bare knees
Stones the color of rust, Color of weathered wood, Color of my Mother's pale Blue eyes but warmer
A cool pink like a sleeping Baby's cheek the leaf
A pale lime green
Stripes in stone, like veins
Pulsing at the throat
Another lovely shot and wonderful words for accompaniment.
ReplyDeleteThank you dear.
ReplyDeleteYes, I liked that too.. images of life understood.
ReplyDeleteSusan, I thought you might like that pattern, the stone looked at from a distance if you're as myopic as I looks like an abstract painting. I love photographing what's under my feet.
ReplyDeleteI love old brick. I liked your poem. Hoping you are feeling well. I am feeling much better these days even with the rain outside.
ReplyDeleteSlainte, Linda
the colors oh the colors
ReplyDeletei really do like that one.
ReplyDeleteInteresting.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful! The words, the picture, and most of all, the woman.
ReplyDeleteOkay, baby, I've done it. New blog. And this one stays. I swears it, precioussss.
Utah,
ReplyDeleteI did NOT send you a first page of any novel; that was not me.
Also, your emails in the past have reached me OK.
Could you have me mixed up with someone else? My father was never a DJ. He was, till retirement, a town (city) planner and public servant. I did not write to you about PTSD either.....
Your last comment on my blog has really confused me; reading it just before my first coffee and cigarette of the day confused me more.
PS- I really hope you are feeling better soon. I can nearly always relate to someone when they talk or write about their difficulties and pain with bi-polar illness.
Thanks again, for your wonderful blog.
After two coffees, three cigarettes and my medication I can see you've probably just mixed me up with someone else; as simple as that.
ReplyDeleteNow, I MUST shower, change clothes etc and turn off the computer and get outside into my garden.
This was my second visit here, (you invited me for lunch last time). The creativity of the idea of photographing what's under your feet, then writing about it is inspiring. I find myself chained to this computer out of sheer powerlessness to go about the business of doing anything constructive, then find out I could have been doing simple things like taking pictures and writing about it.
ReplyDeleteThis is truth, I'm not poking fun. So simple. One of those "Why didn't I think of something like that?" moments. Thanks for that.
This was beautiful, Utah!
ReplyDeleteoh this is sooooo nice...beautiful...very zen....
ReplyDeleteIt is amazing that beauty you can find when you frame it right. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous, Peggy. I really like these photos.
ReplyDeletei meant to tell you i really like the poem and picture....
ReplyDeleteSuper shot!
ReplyDeleteI'll be putting ya on my sidebar, visiting too long your blog to ignore the obvious.
I love how you've captured each image and woven such closely together.
ReplyDeleteI love the 'Color of my Mother's pale Blue eyes but warmer'
Cold to warm. Warm to cold.
I really like this, you.