Planning a dream vacation traveling through Africa.
An African safari, our dream to enjoy capturing the memories
by photographing. We’ll mingle and learn about the people
with different backgrounds, cultures, and traditions.
And enjoy the energetic ritual dance and rhythm of
the African drums. Camp under the ebony stars
with the wild scent of firewood.
Explore the wildlife in their natural habitats.
Marvel at the sight of the massive gray elephants
beneath sapphire skies as their butterfly-wing ears flap
in communication and to cool down. Observe their long,
dexterous trunk, a nose, and part of their upper lip,
used like a tool to drink, feed, work, and communicate
with people and their own. To enjoy in wonder while they walk
in a group like hills across a sea of bush or forest, putting one foot
in front of the other in a pendulum-like motion in a graceful
movement lifting dust into the air, as they travel to the nearest
river to drink and bathe in a peaceful color wheel. Of warm
golden hours of fiery oranges and deep purples.
12/23/2025
Emotion will overcome,
The one we have while crossing Yellowstone Park,
With two loyal friends,
Walking on walkways above the bubbling
from Mammoth Spring,
The one we have using a defibrillator to see a heart
Beat again,
Emotion will win, the one we have when looking at the stars
shining in the selfish night,
The one we have while detailing the lights sparkle on the other side of the bay,
That one emotion while listening to a cantata by Bach, while facing the sea,
The faith in God transcending our souls, our spirits,
The emotion one has when thinking about our mom loosing her ideals
staying in bed,
the emotion will overcome,
The one we have as a passenger, at each takeoff or landing of a Boeing 747,
That emotion while admiring a painting of Monet or Botticelli,
That one by reading our travel book about Brazil,
That of the child discovering his gifts under the Christmas tree,
the emotion will win,
That of the tourist from Brest, discovering for the first time
Manhattan,
or photographing whales off the coast of Cape Code,
The one of the teacher looking into the eyes of a eleventh grader,
Emotion will conquer, or the world will perish.
The foot of the table
rose up to adjust the shape of my chin.
It was a glooming, looming 3 a.m.
when I saw the bedside clock
through that pitch dark
that occurs at the back of an eye
when time is a few decades too slow.
The table has put itself together
once more,
bought from IKEA, it took two days
to assemble, and a lifetime
to disassemble.
Now it's just a lightless prop
for a drooling jaw.
My dad is here offering advice,
when he was alive, he made televisions
out of the spare parts
of alien spacecraft.
I have no such skills, yet I know
that time occasionally
stands at the edge of a cliff
photographing
my fleeting existence,
as if it were a Dodo
straining to remember
how to fly.
In a distance beyond my ken,
table feet clip-clop away.
Phlox of purple field, Bill's
photographing hidden
Phoebe, favorite bird.
Phased by nothing else, like
Pheasant flying up, he
photographs Phoebes. Next
Phalaropes, wading birds.
Mama Mallard's hatchlings so downy and sweet,
she's proud to show them, springtime is complete,
waddling along the lake with her brood in tow,
Daddy Mallard quacks as people stroll to and fro,
decked in pastel clothes with cameras in hand,
photographing the baby ducks on a weekend grand.
The baby ducks in April are here,
toddlers feed them, grinning ear to ear.
Daffodils bright yellow, honeybees full of pollen,
Mama Mallard leads them to water, all in.
Spring brings animal babies to the earth,
we delight at their sight as we're full of mirth.
Two frisky kits
Enjoying each other
About the same size
Being watched by their mother
I used a telescopic lens
For I did not want to get carried away
By a super protective mother
Who might have chased me far that day
The kids had no idea
They are being photographed
I secretly named them
Minnesota and McRaft
worthwhile painters of sunsets tackled this romantic sky
turtles do not look up often, and their eyes are fuzzy
they might miss the colors, but they feel the richness of the day
turtle cave, a sanctuary for turtles in many sizes.
I stay my distance, photographing them with telescopic lenses.
my artist eyes take another peek at the fascinating pastel sky.
I return home with a plethora of photos, of the sunset.
each one a smidge different than the last; no one else sees it.
Xerox copier sounds raise my eyebrows
wondering if he’s photographing unclad organs
like another time?
Beware zealous dismay from your justifiably
Quickly vacating nervy, kinky gentlemen!
written November 5, 2021
for "Alphabet Soup" poetry contest
sponsored by William Kekaula
X marks the spot
Where a young child had stood,
Enjoying his friends’ company as only
A young child could.
X marks the spot
Where the child lay dying,
Medics there to save his life,
Desperately trying.
X marks the spot,
From which the crowd was kept,
The child’s mother who broke through
And uncontrollably wept.
X marks the spot
Where the ambulance came,
The police taking measurements,
Photographing the stain.
X marks the spot
Where the piles of flowers were left,
Where the moving tributes were made
From those now bereft.
X marks the spot
Where the funeral procession slowed,
Where a community’s grief
In rivers now flowed.
X marks the spot
Where the young child was struck
By a man on a mobile
In charge of a truck.
X marks the spot
Where a quick call was made,
The cost of this phone call
Extravagantly paid.
Age can never erase memories of yore,
For there's an old but lovely song still rambling
In my head as I love to go a wandering
Along the vales or up the mountain sides,
Fetching flora, photographing fauna and sampling
Wildflowers, collecting leaves fancy or plain.
Study trees, evergreen or autumnal bare.
How I loved to stop near some clear rill.
There would be daffodils I’m sure up on some hill.
Checked which song birds choose to build their cosy nests,
Birds picking up small or curvy twigs with care.
Even today I ramble along the vast countryside,
Sometimes I rest, imbibing the air so fresh,
Watch some little children playing joyfully
With young nuns in front the impoverished crèche.
Bells ring from a chapel calling for prayer,
I join trusting my sins the good Lord would spare.
packing for adventure
pouncing on a puppy
planning to prank people
photographing flash floods
painting under bridges
pretending work's a game
performing impromptu
4-7-2021
Pleiades P Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
X marks the spot
Where a young child had stood,
Enjoying his friends company as only
A young child could.
X marks the spot
Where the child laid dying,
Medics there to save his life,
Desperately trying.
X marks the spot,
From which the crowd were kept,
The child’s mother who broke through
And uncontrollably wept.
X marks the spot
Where the ambulance came
The police taking measurements
Photographing the stain.
X marks the spot
Where the piles of flowers were left,
Where the moving tributes were made
From those now bereft.
X marks the spot
Where the funeral procession slowed
Where a community’s grief
In rivers now flowed.
X marks the spot
Where the young child was struck
By a man on a mobile
In charge of a truck.
X marks the spot
Where a quick call was made
The cost of this phone call,
Extravagantly paid.
Butterfly counter, paid by the hours
Walks miles, studying beautiful flowers.
Captures blues, silvers, yellows, monarchs too
They arrive in splendiferous colors and hues
Okay I don’t get paid in money, she says.
Something fun to do, for my Aunt Inez.
Inez has been gone for fifteen years now, you see.
Photographing butterflies is her gift to me.
spiritually aware
feeling entities in grasses
photographing orbs
in tune with nature
and heavenly visitors
sensing their presence
one of gods creatures
so beloved and cherished
protected always
A cuttlefish swallowed my house the other day.
He ejected his inky black fluid and we could not get away.
The local newspaper came out and had a heyday.
Interviewing and photographing the monster that you may all say…
Was doing what comes natural in a regular cuttlefish way.
Rather bleak ending to a regular Wednesday.
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