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Posts Tagged ‘DP’

cemetery walkIn response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Gone, But Not Forgotten.”

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On Someone Else’s Island, 

A picture for his eyes

to rest upon, Face, tilted up

and to the left, smile meeting

the light. Dark Hair, Golden

Glowing in the sun.

A pen for his hands,

paper to hold stories

or poetry, lines

to contain thought.

A toolbox with saw

and lathe; trees to work

into useful things; practical

on deserted planes.

Seed, a seed to sow

his seeds, to grow his fruit

into dripping delicious

delight.

No company; for we know

that his best work comes

when he longs for contact,

is lost in the reality

of human shortcomings.

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Angular

My life has been well over the edge of busy lately, and chances to get out with my camera are limited.  Earlier this year we visited a Tin Mine in Cornwall.  It is an exercise in angularity.

This was my first capture of the day, and it was also my favourite.  Yes, the lines of the mine, the angles of the old wood.

This was my first capture of the day, and it was also my favourite. Yes, the lines of the mine, the angles of the old wood.

Indoors, and the belts that carry the rocks everywere, go up and down at all angles.

Indoors, and the belts that carry the rocks everywhere, go up and down at all angles.

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Angular.”

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DP: Picky tongues

The daily prompt:You have to choose one flavor that your sense of taste will no longer be able to distinguish. Sweet, sour, bitter, salty, umami, spicy (not a taste per se, but we’re generous): which one do you choose to lose?

 

Bitter.  I would like to give up bitter, please.  

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What stands between you and where you want to be?

What stands between you and where you want to be?

 

What is it, really, that is between myself and who, where, or what I want to be?

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This daily prompt spoke to me, because it does rather apply to me.  I suppose you could say I am living the scenario described within.  I have left my home to travel the world for a year (or 2, or 5…).  I did have to decide what to bring with me. In terms of decorative or sentimental things, that means: Not much.  Each personal item was weighed against whether it would be useful on the travels, or easily replaced by similar items upon arrival.

There is one thing that I brought with me that serves no useful purpose.  It does not have much relative value; in fact, probably none to anyone except me.  It has traveled with me wherever I have gone since it was given to me.

You see, there are many levels of associative memory involved in this item.  My great grandmother, who taught me to write poetry and was my best friend until I was 12 years old (I wrote her letters almost every day, and she wrote back to me as frequently) collected music boxes.  I also developed a great love for music boxes as a result.  As a graduation gift from high school, my parents gifted me a custom made music box.

Made of rosewood and with a custom swiss movement.

Made of rosewood and with a custom swiss movement.

 

When most other kids were asking for a car or a trip to Mexico (My brother asked for, and received, a television set for his graduation), I wanted this.  I didn’t ask for it, my parents just knew me well enough to know I wanted it.   Mom chose the music to go inside it – our favorite piece of music.  Variations on a theme by Paganini  – by Rachmaninoff. So, you see, this piece has a bit of my great grandmother, both of my parents, my mother and I and our mutual love of something, and myself in it.

Over the years, this has gone with me everywhere I go.  I have taken it to university, to every home I’ve lived in.  It has seen every heartache and every good time.  It has been the one “thing” that has never been lost, misplaced, or stolen.  It holds my memories in it.  Some of you will recognize…some of these.  Tickets to a Chicago Bulls game and tickets to a family reunion dinner.  Tickets to a comedy show and my pass as cast at a Medieval Fantasy Faire.  A ticket to a play in which one of my best friends starred. A tiny ceramic bear with a signed “I love you”, a gift from my first love.  A celtic knotwork cross. There are more things buried underneath this top layer.  But it is where my treasures lie.  It’s precious and invaluable.

Music Box 2

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DP: Make  Me Smile

Daily Prompt: Make Me Smile

If you’re feeling blah, what is the one thing you do that you can count on to put a smile on your face?

_________

 

Image

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I am the quiet suburban soccer mom.  I am the responsible one who picks up her children (mostly) on time, who has a strict schedule every day, who does her best to manage the grind of the routine.  I feed everyone, mostly things that I know they will eat rather than what I think is healthy, granted.  But my impulse – what would my impulse be if I gave in to it? 

I would go.  Just one bag, one backpack, and go.  I would hike and travel and take trains and buses and boats and the occasional airplane. To India, to Africa. I would look into the faces of children and see their similarities to my own. I would study the psyche of every person I came across, and bash my suppositions against the truth. I would just be.  I would explore this gray humanity that I seldom feel a part of.  I would look for the color in the world again. I would throw out all schedules and responsibilities and let the world scribe itself onto my memory.  

Seriously, though.  As if I would ever.

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