Murray Robertson (photography & poems)
I make photographs and poems to please myself (and share them to please you).
She was a young woman, holding her child’s hand.
I saw the numbers, tattooed on her arm. But she was far too young, and so I asked her.
“I did it for my grandma”, she told me.
“Excuse, me, but why would your grandma want you to have this tattoo?”
“She was tattooed in a concentration camp. She was ashamed. So I got one, to share it with her.” she told me.
I looked over at her husband, who now had the child. “Lucky man.” I thought. “She is so much!”
Skeletal Tree
ten thousand feet
above everything,
ideas come slowly,
oxygen so scarce!
i see tree-bones
death has visited
this chilly place
before my time.
at this altitude
trees are an
expense or
luxury, perhaps.
nothing much
lives forever.
not such trees,
so beautiful
even in death.
good things end.
time conceals
many surprises.
so many, so often.
evil too ceases.
we live for that.
as long as it lasts,
it seems so long.
and we are left,
for good, or ill,
with bare-limbed
reminders.
a favorite, it
grows in a
warm place,
somewhere
i've never been.
several years
have gone now
and there may
be no way back.
exotic and bright,
it pleased me:
something so
strange and
wonderful.
tropical sun
powers colour
to overwhelm
my temperate
vision, and
i am almost
blinded.
looking at four
orange pumpkins
on the front step,
we remember
our childhood
world at
hallowe'en.
ghosts, goblins
and a nikon
camera - it's
very magical.
uncarved
pumpkins
have their
own special
magic,
so did our
childhoods.
today, what's left?
in my world,
a nikon camera.
waves of pink
from the centre
of passion.
a blush or
even a smile.
lies are not
worthwhile.
summer days
warm so
many hearts.
girls in bikinis
make him
forget his age,
and his decrepit
appearance.
i have to smile,
because i know
his daughter
could have
almost been
these children's
mother.
and he smiles
because he thinks
i share his thought.
Passing on Starboard following rules will sometimes save your life. heavy traffic on a highway or in a busy port can be tough. tropical storms can strike quickly, bad surprises. many shipwrecks with experienced crews and fine boats, on the bottom, building reefs. a good pilot guides you safely home, any port in a calm season. some things, really should never be forgotten. following rules will sometimes save your life.
Beach Rocks
waves roll in
from the cold
atlantic ocean,
wearing down
hard rock,
until they crumble
like sahara dust.
tropical colour
seems intense,
wonderful
intensity,
something we
didn't know
we'd crave
to see again.
we wait until
the world is safe,
remembering
we may not
pass this
way again.
Rosemary 2
Rosemary!
like a tiny orchid
smiling up at me,
i wonder how i
never noticed
it before,
we are slow
to see tiny
subtle beauties!
we step around
and walk on by
visible visual
heavenly treats.
Rosemary!
like a tiny orchid
smiling up at me
View From Above
we envy birds.
their easy flight,
mastery of air,
their, oh so
wonderful
point of view.
treetops look
interesting when we
are positioned like
a bird's-eye.
we don't see
things the same.
we can't, we
have no wings,
although we
so often wish
to see treetops
from above.
from there
to there
wasn't far, as
the crow goes...
the dog and i
always had to
walk around.
life is like that,
you know.
we walked
from peak
to peak, and
broke no bones.
he was always
patient, tugging
(not much) on
his leash,
wherever I
wanted to go.
a little patience
makes a long walk
so much easier.
I sometimes saved
him from obvious
disasters, like
cactus needles
in his paws.
obvious to me,
though maybe
not to him.
friends save us
sometimes, as we
venture together,
peak to peak.
