Waiting for the Hummingbird


hummingbird

 

Will you be tempted by my latest attempt

to lure you into my life?

The black lacquer hook secures the playful pedestal

I’ve erected in your honor

I’ve erected in your absence.

An erection in remembrance.

 

I’ve seen your rotating spin soar high above

The deep green weeping willow for me.

The one that shelters the violets.

The one that mimics my pain.

The one that forgets me not.

The one I know you remember.

 

Secretly, I watch you dive haphazardly into an amorous arc

Your wings beating 100 times a second, sometimes two.

Your body contorted into hopeful angles,

To attract the attention of the ruby throated one next door.

She is younger.  She is shiny.

But how can you want her? She’s not me.

 

The U shapes you form as you fly higher

Scare me

Excite me

Make me cry.

I offer you crimson nectar with the hope

This Summer won’t be another fly by.

 

 

 

 

Beach Baby


My view from the Balcony

My view from the Balcony

The Gulf of Mexico calls….no the sands aren’t sugary white.  No the place I stay isn’t tourist ridden.  But there is calm.  There is rest.  There are sand dollars.  There is time to think.  And there is my love.

See you in a week!

 

On the Beach at Night, Alone. by Walt Whitman
ON the beach at night alone,
As the old mother sways her to and fro, singing her husky song,
As I watch the bright stars shining—I think a thought of the clef of the
universes,
and of the future.
A VAST SIMILITUDE interlocks all,
All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, comets,
asteroids,
All the substances of the same, and all that is spiritual upon the same,
All distances of place, however wide,
All distances of time—all inanimate forms,
All Souls—all living bodies, though they be ever so different,
or in different worlds,
All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes—the fishes, the brutes,
All men and women—me also;
All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages;
All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this globe, or any globe;
All lives and deaths—all of the past, present, future;
This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann’d, and shall forever
span them,
and compactly hold them, and enclose them.

 

 

The Sublimity of Techno-Communication


beach

Someone told me the other day that I’m more myself when I blog or write letters than I am when I tweet.  I suppose its the 140 character limit or maybe I’m just so verbose, I can get my point across better here sometimes!  Anyway, I just wanted to share a letter that I found very creative, very sweet and very thoughtful and edited for personal reasons!   I must admit, it was a bit of a corroboration as we had been discussing it for months.  But he beat me to it!  You have to click on the links to get the full effect, but I think it’s so sweet!   See what you think!  This is what I get for teasing someone about how little they say!  The links are underlined.

Dear Gayle,

I am so looking forward to our  vacation.  I’m so glad we are both enamored of the ocean and its music.   I know it will probably rain, but waves and rain are one of those communions you find romantic right? Wouldn’t it be nice  if we had thought of this years ago?  I just want you to know that I’m looking forward to that week more than a 40 day dream.  And since I know now what it really means to see, there are no more lies.  I want it that way.   And don’t worry, I still  find your BIG FIVE enticing but not as enticing as your green eyes!   Call me! xxooxx

I know, I’m a lucky person to have such creative people in my life aren’t I?  What do you think?

The Vagina Dialogues….You Vote


I was having a highly evolved discussion last night with a friend about all things haughty, you know, Georgie O’Keefe flower paintings vs the West paintings,  how the Higgs-Boson discovery will affect the future, North Korea’s nuclear antics, how Hollywood acts like they can take the truth, but really they can’t and then thanks to relaxation, we devolved….into discussions about SpongeBob which lead to gay lifestyles vs hetero lifestyles which lead to reality shows which lead to Honey Boo Boo…yeah, seriously.  He  we couldn’t stop laughing!

For those of you who know what I’m talking about it should be easy to vote.  For those of you who don’t, well….I can’t bring myself to enlighten you.  Just reread the title of today’s blog and choose which image best fits the subject.  I’ll let you in on in a hint.  I started the Georgia O’Keefe discussion, my friend chose the Honey Boo Boo route.  Which then lead to talk of honey and biscuits, gravy and biscuits and more sophomoric silliness!   Sheesh, maybe I should critique him on Lulu.  (do you know about this ridiculousness?)  ahhaaha!

 

A Hardee's Biscuit

A Hardee’s Biscuit

It’s called a biscuit because it looks like a Hardee’s biscuit when its done right and it opens up.  – Mama June on Honey Boo Boo explaining a nickname for her private part

Blue Flower, 1918

Georgia O’Keeffe consistently battled against the Freudian interpretations of her flower series. Alike to macro-photography, these paintings glanced deep into the exquisite crevices of orchids and calla lilies, dove inside along the sensuously open petals… wait, stop, sorry, sorry! They’re JUST FLOWERS!

I vote for Georgia’s image.  How about you?

 

How Violence Creates Beauty: Spirits by Nicholas Buer


From Slate:  Right now, the Sun is heading toward the peak of its active cycle in 2013, blasting out massive storms one after another. These storms scream across the depths of space, and if they interact with our Earth’s magnetic field, they can create ethereal, gorgeous aurorae (the northern and southern lights). It’s one of the more interesting ironies of nature that such violent events on the Sun create some of the most beautiful displays on the Earth.

But they are lovely, as photographer Nicholas Buer is about to show you. From photos taken in northern Norway, he created a time-lapse video of aurorae he’s called Spirits: