John Pingree's Images

Images

Photos (in the blog order):

1. First night

  4. Next Day (a set, obviously)

2. Data transmission and storage

3. Connie's music

5. More than friends

6. Shadow land

7. Connection

8. Interlock

John Ambury's Poems

SPRING ON THE POND *   Animation suspended no life in snow the pond lies still   Just days from now this pond will teem with newborn beings to stock the world             with every species                         two by two in billions                                     the genesis of all existence   Today the pond lies still no life in snow animation suspended     * Impromptu verse inspired by the Japanese brush drawing of the same name by Baoxing Zhang. “Poetry In The Park,” Sovereign House (Oakville ON), 17 July 2011.                                                    © John Ambury, 2011. All rights reserved.   ----------------------------------------------------------------     HAIKU (Senryu), from Sets 3 and 4     The form           Haiku I am told           must not be given titles --           your indulgence, please     Absence           “I love you, miss you”           cold words freeze-dry on my screen           hot tears brim my eyes     Tsunami           Apocalypse now           forty days and nights of floods           how shall we still breathe?     Conversation           So she goes, D’uh, right?           I’m like, Tell me about it           she’s like, Just sayin’     Poetry           We do not make art           sky-thrown hearts fly back in words           poetry happens                                             © John Ambury, 2011. All rights reserved.

Grant's Poem

First Light

by

Grant Thompson

It was the season after the Hunter's moon,

On a dark and starry night,

Beneath the vault of sky, entombed,

Far from civilization's light.

Those then-young eyes sent their gaze aloft

Their first light yet to see.

They saw gossamer curtains of rippling hues,

And a faintly glowing bridge of stars, across a pitch black sea.

The  brilliant light of a thousand stars

Spread across the black,

There, far too many wonders for one

They knew they would be back.

Now, decades are gone yet

Older-eyes still come to see the sight.

But they need the help of memory's eye,

To recapture the vision of that first night.

When the old eyes finally close

And see with soul's  clear sight,

Then find me after the Hunter's moon

On a dark and starry night.

I'll wait beneath the vault of sky, entombed

Far from civilizations light.

Mori's Poems

"Occupant of soul “

In a surprise moments

The wave that slammed on my eyes

Went through

Washed my brain

Entered in my soul

Another permanent resident

“Tsunami”

“Like My Life”

Seating inside a coffee shop

Staring at snow flakes pouring heavily

Flakes one after another lands on the large window

And melts to a drop

Makes its little stream

And goes down in its own way

Like my life

February 26/07-Mississauga- Canada

“In Exile”

I see the birds are flying

My heart

Starts flying too

But

Without destination

February 28/07 – Oakville

A Poem by Trisha Smith

Muscular arm to the unknown

Muscular arm to the unknown
Should I hurt or should I go
A struggle
Then fear shackles
To trust the outstretched hand
Overwhelmed and reconciled
Into where belonging
Cries covered by peace
Freed once again.

Trisha is new to the group, I thought a poem would be a good introduction.

David Billings' Poems

Songs of November

November is the dullest month,
It sings in shades of gray,
Yet I learn more from this sad month,
Than from the joys of May.

Late Autumn sings of summer heat
And of the Winters cold,
Spring’s ditties mute though they repeat,
Gay prophecies foretold

So as I sink into the snow,
November’s words I heed
The season’s teach more than I know,
Of January’s deeds.

© All Rights reserved 2011 by David Billings Nov 1 2011
Snow

On frozen eddies snowflakes swirl,
Tiny crystals on climatic curls
Like a billion dreams, each unique,
With wintered hums that chime like speech,
They sing of what was and is to be,
Like cobbler shops, Christmas cookies,
And conifers that reached the sky.

They fly like fairies to and fro,
These wisdomed pearls disguised as snow,
Until fatigued they do, alas,
Fall wearily onto the mass,
Like rain upon the sea so deep,
Of whitened cold and endless sleep.

© 1992 David Billings, All Rights Reserved


#302 Muttly Ontarion

I’m just muttly, muttly Ontarion
A label that the books say can’t exist,
But my mirror incites delirium,
My mute reflection quietly insists,
That pirates lacked permission from the Queen
And Vikings left to rot their settlements,
Those called Indians had never been,
To Columbus’s sub continent,
While I the Redneck’s long lost ancestry,
The story which taxation could not tell,
Adopts the cloak of famous mystery,
The past so dark can not future foretell
So I’m content to be a northern mutt,
Such pedigree the world can not rebut.

© by David Billings Nov 7, 2011