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Level and Steady
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-Pedal Point Harmony
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By:Palette Gimbal
The photo would be perfect
something that satifies
the soul. beautifu lEnvironmental Portraiture
one decribed the doings.
rich textures to leather saddles and dusty trails
tilting the camera or drone nose up and down
on the vertical axis to get that perfect
golden hour photo
the low sun light of morning or evening
to satisfy the eyes, my objective is to avoid
curved lines in my image fisheye distortion
are what I am looking to acheive here
All these will be done in first person veiw
than I'll have photos made to capture that perfect image
of a beautiful place these folks
call theres.
Pitch: Tilting the camera or drone nose up and down on the vertical axi
JD Vance, proud of his Appalachian roots
Likes to wear (designer) cowboy boots
Gravitates toward that ‘Man of the People,’ Tucker Carlson
The two of them attacking conservatism ~ political arson
Yellow rubber, swallowed by the wardrobe’s floor,
cracked wide across the instep where the plastic split.
They smell of wet rubber, mildew,
fear;
a pair of small boots, size twelve, seven years old,
caked in dried river-silt and salt.
A stranger may look in and call this precious,
a quiet snapshot of a girl who loved the rain
before her legs lengthened
and learned the art of running away.
How sweet to think I open up this closet to
reminisce an untouched girl leaping in the rain.
I never grew out of my yellow boots.
Perhaps I was torn out of them.
The monster does not have a face,
all rot and cold,
a mouth of shadows opening beneath the porch,
his heavy fingers smelling of damp earth and rust.
He never touched the boots; only the girl inside,
snapping her out of them like a bone from a joint,
leaving two empty hulls dropped flat upon the tile.
Each morning I reach into the dark for my coat,
and realize the closet is not where I hide the memory -
but where the monster wears my yellow rain boots,
waiting for me to slip my feet back in.
meet me at the green house of boots whispered the fairy.
Where is it? I asked but she had already flown away, merry.
I followed her direction with both of my eyes, green.
Ran quickly behind her, but lost this faerie queen.
Was about to give up when I saw her at a large boot.
Come quickly! She told me, they will think this is a hoot!
We are giving them presents, but I did not see any.
That faerie blinked her eyes twice and then there were twenty.
.
clap
with earth
thuh
drop'em girl
click bloom
click
i'mz
thuh camera
instance
git on yup girl
down
')>
*instance spell wit thuh
astute think <]')
WHERE THE MARINES GO
NO BOOTS ON GROUND THEY SAID SO
BUT WHAT DO I KNOW
autumn weaves musty forest
moles tunnel humus pathways
wind whisking tweedy jacket
warming trial - damp boot days
HIGH FUEL BOOTS ON GROUND
TRUMP PLAN NOT LOOKING SO SOUND
THE PROBLEMS ABOUND
Boots in the Ground
Boots in the ground, where the red dust breathes,
Morning breaks slow through tired leaves.
Steel in the heart, resolve in the bone,
A soldier stands though he stands alone.
The road is long, the sun burns high,
Sweat and silence beneath the sky.
No drums, no glory, no trumpet sound,
Just steady boots on stubborn ground.
Each step a promise, firm and plain,
To walk through fire, through loss, through pain.
The wind may howl, the night may fall,
But duty answers every call.
Dust on the face, courage within,
Battles outside and wars within.
Still forward they move, mile by mile,
Through fear, through doubt, through trial.
Boots in the ground, steady and strong—
Holding the line where hearts belong.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Steel towers gleam gold
Trinity River whispers~
hot wind hums through wires,
a lone bull's shadow stretching
across the restless concrete.
NO BOOTS ON THE GROUND
PLAN THAT APPEARS TO BE SOUND
TRUMP SHOULD BE HELD BOUND
Strawberry blond curls bouncing as she dances
Quickly stealing hearts country music romances
Universal love for music maroon mood enhances
A little tip of his hat he winks a tall strapping lad
Red flannel shirt blue jeans work charming fad
Emerald eyes full of delight the barn is a glow
Denim jackets boots matching as we Do-Si-do
Amber moon hangs this June like pearl earring
New music swells cowboy yells playing tambourine
Come one come all let’s dance till fall a happy hour
Energetic night a bluegrass night blooms like flower
Orange and purple stand out
from drab green
One pair is snubbed
by a drag queen
they’re made for walking
Nancy Sinatra
red ones on toddlers
mud puddle jumping
hookers tall fashion
freezing leaking
winter snow boots
cowboys go-to
Irish clogging
loud running
clip clopping
line dancing
stomping
tromping
boots
perfumed pens are spurred
by rugged men
cowboys lasso
boots and denim
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