An Artist’s Eye and the Poet’s Voice

woman holding an instant camera
A picture is worth a thousand words!
A photographer captures essence, substance, and texture
With an artist’s eye.
We gasp our breath and wonder why
We didn’t see it like this!
There’s so much beauty to miss
If we don’t crop out the boring distractions

With a lens which highlights only the attractions!

Frame the picture with surroundings that highlight
The image we want to project.
Center it or leave it askew to delight
The imagination and tease the senses
With unique balance and no defects.
It is perfect…
It calls out to all of us who neglect
The image and fill the page with words instead.
The photographer and poet with inner reflection
View art from a different perspective.
The artist’s eye and the wordsmith’s ear
Coming together to create
What many eyes never see
And many ears do not hear.
It is not from neglect.
It is a difference of expression.
It is perfection!
by Deborah A. Bowman
cropped-antique-quill-and-ink3.jpg

In response to a recent widow on Twitter…

I suffer with you now, two years later.
Grief doesn’t die, it only softens.
We change, alter, and get stronger.
We remember when odd little things happen.
You never know what will touch your heart.
It didn’t have to be perfect. Is it ever?
All you know is you’re never apart
As long as there is love!

“Phoebe Snow – Poetry Man” — AMERICA ON COFFEE

Phoebe Snow (born Phoebe Ann Laub; July 17, 1950 – April 26, 2011 was an American singer, songwriter, and guitarist, best known for her 1975 song “Poetry Man”. She was described by The New York Times as a “contralto grounded in a bluesy growl and capable of sweeping over four octaves.” Professional life It was […]

via “Phoebe Snow – Poetry Man” — AMERICA ON COFFEE

Great research and blog on Phoebe Snow! Check it out!

Thank you, https://americaoncoffee.wordpress.com/2019/11/27/phoebe-snow-poetry-man/

 

Dear Diary; Dear Journal… Your most intimate sharing of your innermost thoughts and feelings … with yourself!

“Where You Write” is just as important as what you write and to whom, but must we always share?

Perhaps, perhaps; yet there are some words only meant for the crisp, clean page that holds the coveted position in a comfortable room, only for you–Dear Diary; Dear Journal, “Hi, there!”

My eyes drift shut for just a moment; dawn has not yet arrived…

I inhale all my other senses in a deep breath–a taste of energy in total silence, a hint of chill, the heady smell of fresh shellac, easily survived…

The scent of raw, lightly treated wood beams, an arched ceiling, floors with a dab of  shiny gloss, immaculate…

It calms my mind and thrills my spirit because I know I can write anything here or even write nothing at all, but the dilemma … to share or retract?

Is everything set up in order on the familiar desk? Yes…

Do I lift the proverbial quill or pen, tap softly on muted keys or simply rest?

But where will the story go if I don’t rush, rush, rush to complete the piece?

Will another writer jot down these stories and give it release?

To spread the full wings of creativity

Where stories are possible; the paranormal in true believability…

To dwell for a brief moment in a time continuum…

Deep poignant thoughts are challenged or read in awe or disgust, hardly humdrum…

If I can see, feel, visualize, live so very much in my own mind

Is it my duty to share my words with all humankind?

A conundrum, ta’ be sure, giving and receiving inspiration

Through rigorous thought, tears, laughter, perspiration…

But do I dare? My Journal, a constant companion; My Diary, dear old friend…

Will people understand my thoughts and or even care in the end?

by Deborah A Bowman

brown notebook in between of a type writer and gray and black camera
A scene from yesteryear…

Thursday…

Thursday is the little niggle

Of excitement, looking forward to the weekend.

“It is almost upon us,” you giggle…

Time for planning, invitations to send,

To do more than is possible, of course.

But it is light-hearted consideration,

Harming none and enjoying the sensation

Of looking forward with exhilaration

To Friday eve, Saturday, Sunday.

This is where the mind is at on Thursday… Enjoy!

silhouette photography of group of people jumping during golden time
Photo by Belle Co on Pexels.com

Wednesday …

Midweek for those who seek

A time to catch their breath.

Maybe a day to stop and smell the flowers?

A day to reach into your inner depths

To find a way to reach towers

In the skies and heartfelt spiritualism.

We must take a moment to ritualize

Our feelings of destiny and oneness

With all things of the earth and heaven above.

We must grasp onto all that we love…

Blessed greetings to all God’s souls

On a Wednesday, as it unfolds.

blue sky bright clouds cloudy
Photo by Digital Buggu on Pexels.com

 

 

Tuesday…

Some think that Tuesday is an uneventful day,

But the day is what you make it!

Save some interactive times, come what may,

In which to remember and organize your to-do list.

The week is set up; you’re back in the groove;

You can make things happen; you’re on the move!

Business is growing; ideas are flowing;

Your unique confidence and capability is showing.

Let the world see your true self … on Tuesday!

by Deborah A. Bowman

group hand fist bump
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Monday…

A serene rain drips from the sky

Washing the world clean in silent tears,

A soft beauty under full gray clouds.

Workers will dodge through sodden crowds

As the business week begins again…

Breathe in the crisp air.

Close the umbrella, if you dare.

Feel the chilled droplets of autumn

As rusty leaves slither to the ground.

by Deborah A. Bowman

a woman holding an umbrella up side down
Photo by Ali Pazani on Pexels.com

 

Sunday…

A rich day of sun and reflection

As early autumn sneaks into our lives.

The time of bountiful renewal is expected

As the orchards and harvest thrive,

Preparing for winter’s sleep.

But in saying goodbye to another season,

Do not linger in sorrow and weep.

All has come and gone for a reason

For tomorrow brings its own awe-inspiring scene.

In the bright colors of God’s paintbrush,

Sunday is perfect … silent, glowing, serene.

A whispered breath of glory; do not rush

Through a day of splendor!

by Deborah A. Bowman

red and orange autumn leaves on the ground and on trees beside body of water
Photo by Jake Colvin on Pexels.com