Home ~ video poem

Home

This place is like no other
I make of it what it is
Mind and spirit
Self
Family
No effort too big
No element too small
It is mine, and it is home

Kerfe got me to thinking about robins, so I watched this one for an hour this morning, as it it gathered grass for a nest. And so, this poem. (Off prompt for Day 26 of NaPoWriMo.)

Photo: American Robin (screenshot from video)

Other video poetry can be found here.

 

heron spied on shore ~ haiku video

heron spied on shore
silver flash in bill, then gone
river rushes by

This haiku is in response to the prompt for NaPoWriMo.net Day 23, which is to write a poem about an animal.

Image: Great Blue Heron in the Niagara River Gorge, 09 September 2008
(click image for larger view in new tab)

The camera I used for the photo was a small Canon. It also took video, and I actually captured the heron catching a fish. I had been using the camera to upload to YouTube for two years. The video was a small format (320×240) and it was in flash video, so that was the format I uploaded. I found that file today and used a clip to create an mp4 video in 640×480 (thus a slight blurriness) for this video poem.


 

 

The Setting of Suns ~ video poem

The Setting of Suns

Blue above, with edges and undersides
of pink shading to coral, the clouds above
freeway valley measure the passage of time.

A slice of a lifetime told in the sunsets
over this valley. With a voice
I’ve come to savor, musings reach me,

on the passage of time, of sunsets
across seasons, over the years.
Thoughts of daily routines, changed

now that he is alone; of memories held
in photos and letters, and the sun that set
on a lifetime of nearly a century; of a gift

that was his not through payment of a debt,
but through love and dedication.
That coral slowly fades as blue turns to gray,

and a poet’s soliloquy cannot
encompass all the thoughts
held in those clouds. A flute plays,

and fingers that could be writing
trace the joy and sorrow of those times.
In the end, a sigh tells it all.

This poem is for my friend Daniel Charles Thomas, whose uncertain future almost certainly holds a move from that place he calls home, which was his mother’s home for forty years. The view from Daniel’s window, looking out over what he fondly calls “Freeway Valley” in San Diego, provides some spectacular sunsets, and he has shared some of those with me over the years. His words and the clouds from his most recent video inspired this poem, and I used those clouds here, with his permission.

More Than Lip Service – video poem

This may be a first for me – an ekphrastic video poem. I’m not sure if it’s a complete work, or if it’s just a work-in-progress. It’s inspired by a clay sculpture by Claudia McGill (who also writes poetry).  I’ve been wanting to write something around the piece for the past few weeks. Looking at it this morning, I just let the shape and patterns take me where they would, and I put together the video this afternoon.
(Thank you, Claudia.)

More Than Lip Service

Never just black and white,
there are many sides to the blues.

What is a door that opens, if you don’t enter it?
Or a rose, without water?

Enter, and I will water your rose,
scale any height to stay by your side.

This is more than lip service,
the many facets coming to you in turns.

What I reveal is already there
for the knowing.

 

Love Is Not a Game – recording

I’ve made a recording of my poem “Love Is Not a Game,” but I’ll admit I was motivated by a desire to manipulate the graphic I used when originally posting it. I found that image at pixabay, where it is labeled CC0 Creative Commons (unlimited free use).

Love Is Not a Game

Tell me this.
Don’t do that
Acting like a bureaucrat,
you cite each rule.
All this time I’ve been
a fool to play along,
as if you’d change
direction, rearrange
priorities. Put us first,
not you. But the view
from here is still
the same. It pains me
to say this, but I have nothing
left to prove. It’s my turn now,
for my last move
I quit your game.

 

Cliché Ridden

Cliché Ridden

Do you consider my
reticence
a flaw?
Is silence not golden?

I am
no longer a character in
your passion play.
The sacrifice was too great.

You want to hear
a solo
on my heartstrings.

I did that for
too long, wearing it on
my sleeve, while you
looked the other way.

Sadder, but wiser,
I’ve learned
my lesson. Consider that
book closed.

We have become
a cliché.

(In the past.)
This a poke at myself. I’m slowly learning to avoid common terms and phrases in my poetry, but lapses occur. Consider this a way to purge myself of the habit, get it out of my system. Damn! There I go again. Sometimes it just can’t be avoided. Damn!