You ran right up to the fence. Barely a shoulder width from me, I could feel your breath warm on my face. You turned your head just so and our eyes met for a moment. Then you backed up just a little and shook your head. After I took the picture, you pulled your lip up and showed me your teeth, and then you casually turned and walked away.
Filed under Photographs and Art
Sometimes when we walk with out heads buried in our life we miss what is going on right above our heads.
Filed under On Writing
On water’s lapping
Edges of land reach out and take a drink
Clear skin slips back to leave a white foam
Parched from heat, earth drops
to the weight of my foot
The print fills and waters edge moves in
partially trapping my presence
Water fills me, then escapes leaving behind
a stagnate pool of floating resolutions
But we are compressed, one firm while the other moves
Creating the shoreline with penetrating force
leaving behind the undercaving
dismissing any boundaries of the water’s edge
and my footprint
Filed under Poetry, Uncategorized
Most readers are closet writers. They journal, dream stories, imagine scenerios, and then disappear into what they are reading. The question to ask before writing is: Who am I writing for? If you write for money or fame, it is a long narrow road with few recognitions. If you write for family, for fun, or for self-therapy, then you will get rewarded in your life from the effort. If you have a passion for writing; if you pick up a pen in the middle of the night to write down a dream; if your idea of doodling is writing words or poetry; if you are facinated by the challenges of writing…then you know why you write and others may never understand.
Filed under On Writing
Looking through red reversed letters from the window of Jill’s Diner
Waiting on a greasy burger
Thinking about the two miles from a park bench to this booth
Passing the other side of every postcard picture
Views of Columbus others do not see
A plaque on a quiet walk beneath the Third Street bridge
Professing the “death valley” survivors
Poor people living in the uncivilized early 1900’s Columbus
Hard tanned men with orange hats and vests
Working behind pylons and making downtown hum with machine noise
Crossing barricades in streets that hide developing architectural wonder
Pictures taken of sculptures, art, memorials, and bright passages through alleyways
The geometric shapes and curves of concrete and steel set against green and budding trees
Tributes in bricks laid downtown in meek monuments to many more deserving
New memorials in fresh concrete of quoted wisdoms about life or learning
The walk fills with color and reflection of one experience among generations
The surrounding fields and dirt roads changed to a humming place of people
People on their way to somewhere else perhaps
Instead they stayed here, and called it home
A woman freed from time sits contemplating over a greasy burger
Filed under Poetry
sherrystruthtofiction 