I make photographs and poems to please myself (and share them to please you).
a mat of tiny flowers spreading slowly slow as glaciers crawling down hanging valleys slowly across our steppingstone path purple so close to dark rich blue purple colour reserved for kings no kings come here colours don't matter kings don't care a mat of tiny flowers spreading slowly slow as glaciers crawling down hanging valleys slowly across our steppingstone path
In Black and White
before they killed
the house
they killed the trees
its there in
black and white
the mess they made
its more than
black and white
many grey-tones
fill a gap between
the black and white
there seem so many
shades in shadows
undistracted by colour
we see more detail
room for different
kinds of beauty
things we might
not ever see
(in plain sight)
hiding in shadow
when springtime
leaps out of the ice
out of the snow
leaving frigid days
and nights behind,
plants reoccupy
the land inch by inch
green shoots
shoving aside
clumps of mud
(river silt too)
grains of sand
growing around
bigger boulders
take it seriously
when you hear the
meadowlark sing
springtime sounds
waken us all
with a whisper
(summer's coming)
Bricks on the Chimney
looking up to the top
we see the past
above the rooftop
bricks on the chimney
broken and fallen
evident destruction
shows no respect
for a past that made
the present possible
stories under that roof
will be forgotten
we saw the workmen
carrying debris
from an open door
working safely
removing memories
that still remained
(not many did)
rejected memories
may be half forgotten
ragged blue
bachelor button
tattered blossoms
appeal to something
wild inside me
and i notice that
unpatterned scenes
seem appealing
as i learn to see
new sights daily
fresh treats
fresh to the eye
ragged blue
like a favourite shirt
worn too often
loved to pieces
too chaotic to endure
randomly fuzzy
(beautiful in a way
no use in denial)
like thoughts after
too much time
under a hot sun
June Blooms
we were amazed
by that tree
without leaves
draped with purple flowers
on an island
in the mediterranean sea
it was a very hot day
in early june
not easy to believe
such incredible heat
sky so hot colour
was all burnt out
of everything
the eye could see
in the distance
there was africa
and sand storms
(they were miles high)
something to see
even once a lifetime
Burning Bush
stories were told
about magical
solutions to
heartbreaking problems
ancient peoples
lived with and
somehow solved
transcending
potential disaster
a ram entangled
in a burning bush
saved a boy's life
an alternate sacrifice
sent from a merciful god
to an anguished father
(no doubt of that)
who planned to murder
his only son
(as a sacrifice to
placate a god)
these are flowers
from a burning bush
maybe it's the same
or maybe it isn't
(i don't know) or
much like the idea of
human sacrifice
it sounds a little
bit like extreme belief
Fatal Wounds
sometimes fatal
wounds are painless
there is no time
to form a scab
siding torn off walls
leaving just siding
guts exposed
to carrion seekers
anticipating and death
decay maybe termites
rich wood colours
centuries old
look and marvel
these colours
don't come easy
small running feet
of young children
echo on those floors
celebrating beginning
a life we might've envied
(our forefathers)
Springtime Buttons
watching for inspiration
we see the flowers
attracting pollinators
like little honeybees
(they see differently)
our eyes are not
so fantastic
we see much less
shades of blue
reveal more detail
than if there were
more colours
hummingbirds visit
sucking nectar
old-fashioned flowers
ragged in a puddle
of spring sunshine
when they die no sign
of their beauty is left
and so it is with us
what we have in life
our bodies and beauty
our comforts and delights
and all possessions
they are all left behind
City Walls city walls built to keep obnoxious neighbours out long enough to keep marauding savages at bay long enough for raising sleepy defenders (keeping ancient cities safe enough) walls of stone and walls of time we fail to understand time's relative elasticity as space expands beyond the possible and time shows signs of quantum elasticity and time and matter are possible to create out of nothing at all and are not conserved as we'd expect don't we want to know how that all works things beyond what we need to know city walls failing to keep things predictable
Murray Robertson (photography & poems) 