Another one on Perspective

Lessons Learned

One of life's,
Main lessons learned,
Is the pain by which,
Perspective's earned.

Living Color

The painfully gained palette of,
a perspective's spectrum paints,
a sad sunset behind lonely trees.
The night's cold caresses chill
and down I lay in remembrance still
and lose myself by bleak degrees.


I wrote this in responce to "Wednesday" a poem by Concrete Jesus a fellow blogger

CJ's site

Future Framed

Nights
Stained
With
An apologetic darkness
Hearts
Pained
With
The senses being helpless
Future
Framed
By those
Captured
In hideous madness
Souls
Trained
To ignore and deny
A very deep sadness.


A bullet does not change an enemy into a friend it ends him and the chance forever.

Thank you Gulnaz, the line "Night stained by apologetic darkness," woke up my muse for a moment.
peace

Broken Images

Pieces of a broken mirror
give broken images
but each
piece is perspective
in and of itself.
the hardest part is context
a red cloth becomes
a pile of saffron or
the blood on a bandage or
a stain from yesterdays cherry pie...

Broken images
reflected
lost
and then found again.
Does the eye see it
as many pieces of the world scattered or
as the world reflected in many windows shattered or
many makeup mirrors held in many soft smooth hands
what use a broken mirror's melted sands.

What is art but
the view
from the artist's shard
harmonic reflections
disonant deflections
shadow deceptions
and pieces, pieces, pieces.

I think sometimes that broken images
can show more than a crystal clear
photo.

Nested garden?

When I was a young man just old enough to ask interesting questions my father told me, " Life is like a garden and when we are young the garden is a small one contained safely behind the warm walls of our parents and our family and as we age these walls are replaced by the walls of our friendships and as we age further our jobs become the walls and at the final stages of our life our mortality becomes the walls.
I am glad I have seen some of the garden.

More on perspective

The great writer finds the nut of that perfect sentence, paragraph, or story within their past's pleasures and pains whether real or imagined. It really is the writer that does the writing. We the reader know that the author is all of their characters, all of their hearts, all of their fists, caresses, and kisses, all of their skinned knees and bandaging hands because it is the author who writes it, creates it, forms it from that pallatte of their soul, palettes of many colors or not.