Posts Tagged ‘child’

Mission of Mercy

Tuesday, March 19th, 2013

The robins came in the rain
To take the worms away.
Mother told me they were drowning
And the birds lent their wings
For a rescue mission
That taught the creatures
Of the earth, what the sky
Felt like beyond just a dream.
That the robins whisked them away
From mud puddles deeper
Than the well I watch Father dig
That seemed to stretch from earth
Back to sky all over again.
Mother told me worms couldn’t swim
Because their arms never grew right.
Kind of like how I never grew right.
Will the robins save me
When the waters come too high?
Of course they will honey,
And they will teach you to fly.

But Mother lied.
I watch the robin’s beak pierce
The earth like a kraken’s claw
Dividing land from sea
But the way was not clear
And the sojourners never made it through.
The worms surface from the earth
Hoping to find air that wasn’t drowning
In water, but the water was rising fast
Into a flood that would sweep them away.
The jaws of hungry animals
Pried into the earth and wrenched
Their bodies from the softened ground
Like daisies fresh for picking
Even though they were ready,
They where ripped from their roots
Body, soul, and all to be devoured
It was no rescue mission but a massacre masked
In the form of a red breasted beast

I sat watching through fogged windows
And wondered, if these monsters with wings
Veiled their murder in missions of mercy
What would my rescuer be?


Sepia Glow (Stoplight)

Friday, April 13th, 2012

A stoplight blinks, shifting through the spectrum of color on its own accord. Bathing the street with red, yellow, green, with no cars coming or going. Empty streets filled with the sound of an old newspaper blowing across fence posts. Catching and flying away again only to be ensnared soon after on another. The front page hits an obstacle undiscovered, the skinny leg of a human. She doesn’t move, doesn’t remove it, remains still and stoic. Her eyes turned upon the light, which changes without purpose. The sepia streetlight casts dark shadows across her gaunt upturned face. Her mouth hangs slack and her hair hangs listless against her face. She shivers, her body quaking under the force of her rail thin body.

A broad faced hand rubs her back, as if searching to draw out the the warmth that had fled her body. Instead, it only encounters the mountainous bones that jut from her back in place of flesh. He reaches over across her body and pulls her ragged coat tighter around her body to keep her warm. He says nothing as he does this, just watching her face with devotion in his own melancholy eyes. He pulls her coat tight around her frame only to watch it fall away as soon as he lets go. Her hands do not even flinch to close her jacket, hanging limply by her sides. Her eyes blinking like a fish as the green turns to yellow.

Blinks to red. He lets out a soft sigh and buttoned her jacket for her with slow patient fingers. Skipping the third because the button was lost a long time ago. He hesitated for a moment over the empty socket, wondering as he always did, where it had gone. When had they lost it? He moved again to her side like a faithful dog. He reached down and gently grasped her hanging hand. He held it, cradling it like a baby bird in his broad palms. It hung lose and unmoving but still he gently grasped it.

A tear fell down her sallow cheeks without a movement or change in her appearance. The only difference was the drop of water, which rolled down her face. Her makeup had been smeared down her face like a harlequin mask. With his other hand he reached up slowly and with the sleeve of his coat he wiped it away. The trail of the tear that had journeyed down her face was etched deep in the stain of her makeup and even he could not rub that away.

Blink. Red. A twitch of a finger so close to closing around his. He turned his drawn down face to hers with a spark of something close to hope in his tired eyes. But there was nothing. She stared still with her upturned face watching in the sepia glow the turning of the purposeless light. He turned away again; his face turned towards the sidewalk, as the street lamp cast their shadows right under their feet. He shifted them slightly but no matter where he went he stood upon his own shadow and it below him.

They stood together under the sepia glow, one hand grasping another but hope had left long ago. Lost under a couch with a button unfound, unilluminated by the street lamps shine. But still he held her hand as the stoplights changed and no cars came.

The newspaper, which had wrapped itself around her bone thin leg like a hungry child begging to be fed, flapped against her raw skin in the wind. The persistent tug of a child on a mother’s skirt on a soft summer day, it rustled against her. The crinkle of its skin deafening, like the drumbeat of sin. Her hand tightened around his as she began to scream. Her empty and changeless eyes reflecting the lights of change as her mouth contorted with pain. The wail of a banshee burst from her empty lungs, pushing outward with the force of a raging waterfall. Gushing forth with the agony of a childless mother and a motherless child, she screamed.

He held her hand with eyes t unchanging turned on the disappearing sidewalk that wound away like a snake into the darkness of the night. He gently pet her hand like a baby bird that had fallen from its nest. But he did nothing as he stood next to his wife except stroke her hand rhythmically and dutifully. His heart had nothing left to give. A gust of wind ripped the newspaper from her shaking legs and cast it into the street to begin its dance a new.

Blink. Swallowing the scream, which still burned like acid in her lungs, her face eased as if nothing had ever changed. Her fingers loosened and fell slack in his; he never let go even as she slipped away and red turned into yellow, yellow into green, and green into red.


Wind Mother

Thursday, December 1st, 2011

The wind gently rolls through the trees
Like a mothers soft whisper in her infants ear
Telling her of things not yet unfurled
But waiting on the distant horizon
Like a run away balloon
Swept into the abyss
that is not cold, dark or lonely
but quiet and filled with the warmth
of a contented heart that beats
not because it has to but because it wants to

Dancing in pirouettes on the shoulders of the leaves
Rattling the bones the edifice of this green breeze
Until just one person stops to watch and listen
To the secrets swept up by this whirlwind
As the bones are rolled to reveal the truth that lies
In the scattered remains, a world foretold
But not yet cemented
The wind is shifting in this dire breath
Switching back from foot to foot
A ballerina bowing and swaying
With the whispering wind
Dancing not because someone is watching
But to release the rhythm bounding in her mind

Clarity is the remnants of the words left behind
As your hair is tussled and your clothing left displaced
A clairvoyance unachieved until this moment
All you needed was the gentle prompting of the wind
Like a mother letting her child go into the dark, cold, lonely world
That isn’t quite so lonely
And isn’t quite so cold
yes there is a darkness
But your child will find the way
Like a blind woman they will be guided
By the caresses of the wind
When all else is darkened
There will be your hand


Creeper Photo: Two Worlds

Friday, February 18th, 2011

There is another world at my fingertips
So solid and real yet non-existent
No matter how far you dig
The opposing hands seem
Just beyond reach
A drowning sibling
Too far for contact
With this other world
At times you see each other
In the glimpse of a shadow
Out of the corner o your eye
In the slight reflection
Of a dirty decaying mirror
Hiding in the corner
Of an old attic room
Immersed in a dark pool of water
With the shimmering image
Of this world
There one moment
But lost in the disturbances
Of the world we find ourselves in now
You wait for these fleeting meetings
Between you and your other self
Whom you never knew
Except for those evanescent glances
Into a ghostly world
Were two were almost one


Creeper Photo: Eye Contact

Monday, November 29th, 2010

Many people when they see my creeper photos either think it is totally strange or very interesting. One of the questions I get most often is what if they see you taking the picture? For most people, I take every possible precaution to make sure they don’t see. If they do see me there is a special tactic I imploy to sooth their suspicion.

  1. If you notice you have been spotted, don’t run away in fear of being called out. Most people will not call you out, so keep it cool and they will just give you a weird look then walk away. People are not very confrontational and if you keep it cool nothing will happen. Most people assume they are being paranoid and don’t do anything about it.
  2. Occassionally though, they will call you out. So if a person seems a little peeved here is my strategy. Still, do not run away. Stay put and then put your camera up again like you are going to take another photo and wait till the are out of the frame and take a new photo. Make a real spectacle of what you are doing and make it as apparent as possible that your intent for that picture was not the person. Once they see you do this, they will not do anything about it because they assume that you were taking a picture of what is behind them and they just happen to be in the shot. They never think they they are the shot.

So, disaster averted and the world does not end. If those don’t work…. then run. However, with children I let them see that I am taking their picture. Like this little girl, children make some of the most amazing eye contact with strangers and in that moment of eye contact is a connection  like you are peering into their life. Their eyes, like this little girls beautiful blue eyes, become a window into who they are. Even though I will never know who these kids become, for just a single moment it feels like I do know.

Kids often seem to enjoy it and smile or just stare. This little girl waved to me and I waved back then just smiled and walked away. Sometimes I fancy what the parents reactions are if later the kid tells them that some stranger took a picture of them. I wonder how this makes parents feel, how vulnerable must they be in that moment. Not knowing me, or knowing my intentions of taking these photos. I just want to give my hearts out to these people that I take pictures of, by letting me have their picture they are helping me better understand humanity one person at a time. My intentions are pure and often I feel people don’t understand that. Yes, this idea may be strange or creepy to people, but to me it is about uncovering mystery from thousands of perspectives. Taking pictures not of the people themselves but the stories that build up that person’s image.

So to all of my creeper photo subjects, thank you.


Creeper Photos: Lollipop

Thursday, May 20th, 2010

I was watching you at a track meet the other day. I didn’t really notice you until you crossed under the line where discus was being thrown and your mom had to come save you from being hit by a discus. I watched you for a while after that, you seemed very attached to you lollipop. You sat there watching the discus like your mom but I could tell you weren’t really watching, you were just trying to act like your mom. IT was very amusing actually. I hope you enjoyed your lollipop and the rest of the track meet.


Creeper Photo: The Pensive Child

Thursday, May 13th, 2010

I noticed you while at a park, your were just a baby standing there all alone. You didn’t seem to have any family around, but it really didn’t seem to faze you at all. For such a small child you seemed very mature. You just stood there stoically watching all the other children play, while you stood just on the outside. Truthfully you caught my interest because even though you are just a baby, I saw myself in you. I don’t know why but you fascinated me, a child so independent, pensive, and watchful. I couldn’t help but wonder who you will grow up to be. I wonder if you will lose you watchful nature and your silent seriousness as you grow, or will you forever be that person, always on the outside watching those within the norm. For now all anyone will see is a baby in a sun dress, cute and adorable, but that isn’t what I see. I see who you can be, the potential of who you will be.


Midnight’s Child

Tuesday, March 16th, 2010

The moon is framed with reaching hands
Holding out waiting
To cradle the child’s leaning head
When sleep hangs
On the starry eyes
Of Midnight’s child
We will be waiting
To catch you
As you fall
To wrap you up
In lights warm embrace
To cradle the fragile
Fluttering heart of a baby bird
We will hold you tight
Until it is time
To let you go
Until your heart
Grows strong again
So close your eyes
Child of the night
We will cradle you
As you sink
Past the point
Were you can
Re-open your eyes
Lay down your head
In a cradle of hands
We will hold you
We will keep you safe
Until midnight comes again

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Posted in Photos, Poetry |

Creeper Photo: Dress Up

Tuesday, December 22nd, 2009

I must say this image sickens me slightly. The fact that this little girl, maybe four years old, is dressed in high heels and black spandex tights. Is it just me or is something wrong with this picture? I don’t understand how parents could dress, or let her dress like this.

Not to mention it was in Hawaii, it was so hot out I don’t understand how she could wear this without overheating.


High Chair

Saturday, September 26th, 2009

Empty store
A TV. On mute
It feels so empty
In a corner
A high chair sits
Covered in dust
Long forgotten
I wonder
Was it ever used
Did a child
So loved
Once sit in it
Now gone
Blue with colorful
Cotton candy designs
Where is the baby
Did tragedy strike
To steal it away
From it’s loving parents
Plucked like a flower
Cut down before its prime
Feathers floating
Softly to the ground
Did an angel take it away
Or perhaps
The child just
Grew up
The chair
Just unneeded and unnecessary
As a child
Grows to big
For it’s former joy
Growing apart
From all it
Ever knew and loved
The child was taken
Away from it’s chair
Because it no longer needed
A baby’s chair
So now
So empty
A blue high chair sits
With cotton candy designs
In a corner
Gathering dust

Sorry really bad headache today, I can’t process enough to actually write well so here is an old poem I really don’t like but I can’t create right now… sorry

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Posted in Poetry |