Sea Bright, NJ, one of NJ’s barrier islands… (yes, we have those)
NJ moment…
her eminence…
the eminence of rain
might I speak to her,
the bringer, the vessel, the purveyor
or perhaps understand
in some manner
the manner of the mechanism
for which I can not understand
or form the correct questions
for my bones are of the same creation
the same atoms inhabit my domain
in fact are probably cousins
or will I understand only then
when they break down
and have a global family reunion
more NJ wandering…
I was a town over having my car serviced at the dealership… plan ahead, find a spot, work it in to your schedule… it is worth it… I also got lucky and captured a great blue heron, herons are the bane of my existence, I forget my long range lenses all the time and those buggers are notoriously skittish… but… this little 10 minute tangent out of my day made my day…
the jersey wanderer…
I wander the wonderous paths of my fine state in search of the things that I may have ignored all these years… so when I am not writing… I am probably wandering… especially this time of year… (Oceanic Bridge, Rumson NJ)
sometimes it is best to let nature speak for herself… and I am old enough to be smart enough to have learned that… if you like such things please check out my Youtube page (shorts, longs) chronicling my travels… thank you for checking out my little corner of the universe.
the dragon…
might I be the slumbering lumbering dragon
content to nap-a-longly upon my hoard
acquired from years of work or
as my largess buttressed by my comfort in excess
coiled up in satin-silk-sheets infused with softest down,
holed up deep in my cavern
safe from the wrath of seasons
from the desires of children
content to snooze away the days
living in lucid dreams, for why not
have I not
earned this respite
but too comfortable, have I become
as the world outside
creates new wonders past my eyes-
but the real strength now
is to arise,
or die in bones
in this self laden tomb
fierce fangs nobb’d to naught
internal fire burnt to drought
alone with gifts no longer sought-
’tis not youth I seek
just once again to greet
the path
of a new dawn, a new light
with these jaded faded eyes so they once more
can dazzle azure bright alight – in wonder – at this world.
lost love notes…
you have never left my residence
there are times I wish for forgiveness
times of regret-
times to remember joy
at the times that were
in some immaculate light
sometimes I wish never
sometimes I wish always and forever
all these rivers
the source and destination
always lead back to you. (my love)
decades gone and through
there is no one else’s eyes
I long to look into-
then unto death I will stray
or headfirst, who can say
but at that moment
as in most
my once and only thought
-will be you. (my love)
I wonder-
if the anchor is still there
for I know
the shipwreck is
down the river, bide my time
down by the simple river
for just a sample of a spring time song
wash away my thoughts
down the river drawn-
wash over me with the sound
as old as there on sky.
held in mothers arms now
comfort of the ground.
the ever-sun, a companion now
shine on-
on my shoulders-
on my cheek-
a tune spun by a hundred tiny birds
lulls me to hear her now.
the green…
surrounded in a dream
a menagerie of green
for allow me to rest
under one of your trees
to bathe in your shade
to interpret the breeze
from mountains, valleys, swamps and seas
to know the pulse
of your lava veins
coursing under the lakes, fields and plains
all to come to grow this sapling thus
so I might have this moment of ultimate trust
resting upon olden trunk
older than me but younger than some
that the grass might be my bed
the sun lazily smiling over head
for yes, sweet mother
spring is the summer’s dawn;
so here I am
in wonder- of this quite wonderful world.
shadows, the light
a shadow at the door
a shadow at the dawn
for the former comes;
even-
in the presence of the sun;
to show you
the door
Upon the Oceanic Bridge…
let me introduce you to my friend, if a bridge could be one, if a place can be one, nearly 100 years young and still holding her own, the constant pounding and tone right down to her bones, buried in the nitty grit and dirt and sand swept nightly in and out from the Navesink to the Atlantic, countless souls have crossed the span and just if not more underneath, and maybe not so many with feet across, but that is my way, my way how, the way I know her, subtle curves if you ignore the cracks, art deco touches if you ignore the construction cones, sure a cracked wrinkle face shows wear, so would you, in service to meet lands of two, from Red Bank to Rumson bound, how many think to thank the under load bearer, might be none but me who thinks this way, maybe we should, this old girl is due for replacement, by something more modern, but same function, I wonder if the flair will be there, a placard from 2030 doesn’t seem to have the gravity of this aged one from the 30’s… but with time I guess, unless they make a soulless span, with the only purpose – purpose, so drab, like so many bridges without personality, not this old girl, so enjoy such things for now, as they all pass to gone, shadows, memories, stories, old photos, a span of 100 years, under foot, with the magic of carrying you over the ocean way, or looking back on the bay behind as the lines of ships at night trickle out for nightly trips.
the link to the locale (bridge) is here (clickey)
This piece of art and history is slated to be replaced soon enough actually… all things must pass… I would hope they keep the original motif and as much of the style as they can (the guard houses? the original plaque?). So when I am absent from my blog this might be where I have been lately… or some other spot in my state learning my surroundings that were always there but I was unaware… stupid me, don’t make the same mistake, explore every corner you can… I bet you find surprises…
Shades of My Garden 