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Reblogged
The Night Visitant
Revisiting an older post tonight seems inevitable
The delicate tapping and flicker of shadow
I feel your presence before you slide into view
A slight blur of darkness against the light
The soft clunk
Clunk
As you scrabble to gain purchase on a hardened exterior.
For a small time, I watch you. Taking in
Your mesmerising existence, the passion which fuels you,
the persistence which forces you continue.
To strive towards a goal so out of reach and beyond your control.
I feel bad for you that you don’t seem to understand
Don’t seem to grasp the futility of it all
Or maybe you do
You might just be optimistic
Or stubborn
Or stupid.
Regardless…… I close the curtains on you and turn off the light.
Now it is I who lies in the futile dark.
Light
Because sometimes it’s good to look forward to dawn
Orange on pink..
Just something sweet to make you smile 🙂
.
.
I like to dip my toes in pink…
And dance around my dreams…
leaving footprints scattered…
like orange and yellow leaves…
.
.
.
Colors make me happy…
.
.
My August Project … “A Flower a Day – Garden Portraits 2014″…
Day twenty-five…
.
Photography and words by Cicely Robin Laing © 2014
Murky
I like that the visual here captures the purity of the sentiment it holds. Good work 🙂
Dear Robin,
Nanoo nanoo, May he rest in peace
Dear Robin, (may I call you Robin?)
I wish I could have said this to you in person. Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to be graced in your presence. I hope my thoughts can reach you now.
You’ve been a part of my life since I can remember. 1978, just before my 7th birthday, “Mork & Mindy” hits the air and I was captivated. The crazy handshakes, laugh, and dialogue kept me staring at the television (sans blinking) for 30 minutes every week. One time, my Dad would get a haircut and when my Sister and I mentioned it, he would respond “Wrong! I got them all cut!” The first episode after a new cut for you, I remember Mindy’s Dad walked in and said “Mork! You got a haircut!” and Mork (you) responded “Wrong! I got them all cut! ARARAR (Mork’s laugh)” I looked at my Dad and…
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Poet Robert Okaji Reads Rain Forest Bridge
This is how I feel attempting to cross a rope bridge.
Rain Forest Bridge
To cross
you must first
trust the strands
to hold.
The second tentative
step precedes
the next,
each successive one
gaining strength:
here to
there, now
to then, a summoning of
entreaties
within
one’s faith.
Vapor meets cooler air,
forming droplets,
clouding the far side.
I have feared endings
and the strictures of the unseen,
but here
in this vast
swaying,
I know
one line
bisects the void.
