Posts tagged ‘photograph’

03/10/2013

A Field

 

For years this field was lost in rain,

Unseen by moon and morning haze.

Its entropy a fade of green,

A negative beyond all space,

 

Ignored by all but heron’s wings.

It shed its paths as clues and rhymes:

Unnatural golds and hidden ways,

A loss which never formed a sky.

 

Yet here it is: a fragile myth;

A knowledge formed of what might be;

A place between; a knowing spell;

A line connecting distant hopes.

 

For once this world revolves around

This empty field, this broken crown.

 

 

This poem was written as a response to the photograph by artist Cheryl Garner. It is part of an on-going collaboration.

The photographs, with poems, can be found at:

www.thecheesewolf.co.uk/category/vicarious-journeys/

the work of Cheryl Garner can be found at:

http://cherylgarner.squarespace.com/

 

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02/10/2013

Station in the Rain

 

These autumn rains, these Hopper blues,

These destinations, stations passed,

These memories which have yet to form,

These tricks which gather up the night.

 

Each isolation – neon stained –

Is captured in its gleaming feint,

Is held, unique, in slow decent:

From state to state, from hope to spent.

 

And you: I wonder how you took

The morning – made it live again,

And glow again (if only once,

If only through electric eyes).

 

You took a crossing point in time,

And found a voice for rain and light.

 

 

This poem was written as a response to the photograph by artist Cheryl Garner. It is part of an on-going collaboration.

The photographs, with poems, can be found at:

www.thecheesewolf.co.uk/category/vicarious-journeys/

the work of Cheryl Garner can be found at:

http://cherylgarner.squarespace.com/

 

23/06/2013

Oil and Water

 

From where to where the question spins.

A roar of throttle run aways.

Escape is energy enough,

Escape and mysteries in rain.

 

They split the emptiness of streets,

And leave their molten lines of tar.

Like Carver’s “Elephant” in flight,

The tyres barely touch the road.

 

Refractions in a thinning slick:

The life before has slipped and bloomed,

And through its rainbows run the tales.

They leave behind their drying tracks.

 

The stories we can only guess,

Or write our own escapes instead.

 

Inspired by the photograph of the same title, which can (and should) be seen here:

http://stgpla.wordpress.com/2013/06/23/oil-water/