Just Ok is Not Enough

Morning Trip (58)

Moving Forward
The deep parts of my life pour onward,
as if the river shores were opening out.
It seems that things are more like me now,
that I can see farther into paintings.
I feel closer to what language can’t reach.
With my sense, as with birds, I climb
into the windy heaven, out of the oak,
and in the ponds broken off from the sky
my feeling sinks, as if standing on fishes.
– Rainer Maria Rilke
[translated by Robert Bly]

One Shoot Sunday and On The Way–Purple Profundity: Poetry by Elisabeth Connelley

A bit ago, I found something in the blog on Writing Without Paper. An event, activity, called One Shoot Sunday.  Anyone interested can read the full and requested directions there. Part was to credit the Photographer:

This week’s One Shoot takes us to the Isles with English Photographer Fee Easton. Though a self-described “amateur photographer,” Fee’s work is far from amateur. One need look no further than the cathedral pictures below to see some of the intricacy at work. Just take a moment and note if you will the engaging interlace of the shadows on the floor.

Now please, join Fee as she takes the time to guide us through her photographic journey…

~Chris Galford

Accept the Picture Prompt Challenge!  (please click on the image below to see it in the size and proportion in which the artist intended)

Image by Fee Easton and Granted Use for Picture Prompt Challenge

On The Way

soft moving hands
slide along
the grace
of me
clay
sliding along
the wheel
is it my fingers that create
or the turning of the wheel that uses them
expression cries out in the light of the dark
union found
remembered

–by Elisabeth Connelley, Purple Profundity

Morning Trip (8)

“I want to lie down in dappled leaf-shade,
In quivering shadows of quivering leaves —

be they oak, be they maple,
be they elm or birch,
I want to rest in the play of shadows
over my reclining form,
The massage of shadows
which consoles me in its way,
Restores for me
with whatever restoration
Flickering shadows of leaves afford–
be they willow or aspen,
be they poplar or beech,
I want to be caressed by shadows
of wavering leaves,
Soothed off to sleep
feeling the gentle breeze,
Looking up at the rustling
sun-drenched crown–
Be it basswood, be it chestnut,
Be it walnut or hickory,
after all is said,
after all is done,
This is the way
I would die.”

–ANTLER