A Dogs Soul

 

I love this poem about a dog from an unknown author. For anyone who has ever owned a dog, it is difficult to describe their wonderful presence in your life. The joy they bring to you by their simple endeavour to cheer you up and instantly make you feel better. All without words. So I include this poem today and also a portrait of my dog Max who always enjoyed hiking and the forest. He would never allow a single tear to be dropped without his head on your lap and his presence at your feet. He will always be missed.

 

 

Every dog must have a soul
Somewhere deep inside
Where all his hurts and grievances
Are buried with his pride.
Where he decides the good and bad,
The wrong way from the right,
And where his judgment carefully
Is hidden from our sight.
A dog must have a secret place
Where every thought abides,
A sort of close acquaintance that
He trusts in and confides.
And when accused unjustly for
Himself, He cannot speak,
Rebuked, He finds within his soul
The comfort he must seek.
He’ll love, tho’he is unloved,
And he’ll serve tho’badly used,
And one kind word will wipe away
The times when he’s abused.
Altho’ his heart may break in two
His love will still be whole,
Because God gave to every dog
An understanding Soul!

Three Lifetimes, Hence

I enjoy rhyming poetry very much. It has lyrical qualities which remind me of a harmonious chord of music. Or the broad strokes of oil on canvas. And so in writing poetry, it is good to remember that you are “painting words onto canvas”; and the final result should have a breathtaking quality, or at least something to inspire a moment of thought. Each word on the page should be beautiful and meaningful in some way.

 

The poets of the last century were masterful with their words and I think that is why their poetry is timeless and still enjoyable to read in contemporary times. But what inspires poetry? Love, loss, joy, sadness and the whole gamut of human emotions of course.

 

Sometimes it is even more painful than that, especially when there is a loss at the level of the soul. This can never be reconciled because it is formed over many lifetimes. How do you know? By that famous saying, “the eyes are the windows of the soul”.

 

So, here is a poem for all of those who have lost such a love. There can be no greater pain. It is called, “Three Lifetimes, Hence”.

 

  

In another lifetime hence,                

Along a soulful journey thence,

I came to seek you out in dreams,

Along the corridors and seams,

Of time.

 

Oh, what joyous, joyous sound,

The symphony of Angels found!

When first I came upon your face,

No greater joy or heavens place,

Could fill a heart once void.

 

Then again we came to part,

And once again with broken heart,

I found a cloak of love to borrow,

And hid my tears of pain and sorrow,

Knowing you exist. 

 

 

 

Starry, Starry Night…

 

Well, I promised some time ago that I would post some of my paintings on my web blog. I finally got around to it…So, I shall include some of them from time to time. Perhaps it may compliment some of the poetry I have been writing. This one is a simple sketch, acrylic paint on regular paper. I am very fond of Vincent and his work. I paint and sketch for pure pleasure, but haven’t done it in some time. It requires two things that are in short supply, time and energy. Enjoy.

Oh, and as you can see I enjoy vibrant colour!!!

The Promise…

                                                           

I am working on getting a photography album together for all of those who love photography. I must admit, I am not a very good photographer, but I am a genuine and supportive “back-seat” cheerleader for all of those who wander the planet in search of the “perfect shot”. I generally have an eye for form and structure; but lose all semblance of technique and skill when asked to perform the skill of combining an “eye” with that special attribute called technical skill.

Based on this premise,  “never the twain shall meet”. What I do best is paint, in acrylics and oil. Therefore my plan is to take some pictures of my paintings and post them onto flickr. I have been attempting to do this for the last few days without luck; so please have patience as I try to figure out how to accomplish this; given my obstinance, I shall find a way….

My paintings are rather abstract; I do not get obsessed over trying to capture the details of “real life”.  That being said, I use texture and colour to interpret the essence of reality and to construct what I believe to be a close definition of what we all see, not just a personal analysis or interpretation of our shared visual reality.

For example, I painted a picture of the family dog as he sits and looks upon a forest with some pretty wild mauve and pink colour combinations as a representation of the forest and sky. This painting hangs on the wall of my sister’s bedroom. The only kind of painting I can think of that resembles this style is Van Gogh. Imagine “Starry Night” and you might get an idea.  I too love heavy texture and colour and would rather paint with a wild hand then get hung up on minute details. I am hoping to share with you my paintings as well as the photography of a close friend, so please be patient.  

My next poem is called, “The Promise”.  Recently, I have been thinking about the “yin and yang” of relationships and the motivation that exists between men and women as they strive to form relationships that compliment the “who and what” of their being. The truth is, when all is said and done, no matter what the “outside appearance”; we are most satisifed when we discover someone with whom we can laugh, share secrets, enjoy conversation and generally have a “shared vision” for life, love and happiness. Nothing about this or the person is “perfect”, in fact, they are quite often ”imperfect”.  Thus, a dissonance exists between what we perceive as “perfect” and what is ultimately a whole and unconditional fulfillment of our needs.   

How do we know that such a person is the “lock that fits the key”?  They will love and care for you unconditionally and seek your attention and company long after others have left for more promising shores. They see in you what you see in them, a shared vision and understanding, a desire to overcome obstacles; and an overwhelming desire to be in each other’s presence, no matter what the circumstances. 

So, as I have alluded to in previous posts; we often spend a considerable amount of time and energy seeking what we “want”, but in the end, we often receive what we “need”. This what I call serendipity. We all have a need for understanding, unconditional love and happiness. This desire, if recognized, exists in us all. We are motivated to pass along what we have spent a lifetime attempting to achieve. That unexplainable and indefinable gift that occurs only once in as lifetime. That nebulous concept that is so difficult to explain but forms the foundation of life.  Without further adieu, I present to you my poem, “The Promise”. 

 

 

 

The Promise

 

Her skin is soft, pale,

and speckled,

Like the petals of an orchid,

Fragile yet strong,

Hiding the dusky stems

that nurture

the pollen,

In the center,

of a circle,

that is life.

 

With knowing eyes,

She sees though the thickness,

of his skin,

And the walls he has built,

around a soul,

that is invisible

to all,

but her.

 

She climbs easily,

over the walls,

of his garden,

To find what he

cultivates with care.

 

Climbing with ease,

She circles,

and entwines

her pale arms

around the walls,

Like tendrils

of vines,

As they seek,

the morning sun. 

 

That part of him waits

for her,

Quietly,

as roots might,

Lying dormant,

Remaining hidden.    

 

Growing there are buds,

Tightly folded,

and waiting,

For the life of her breath,

And the wetness of his lips,

against the paleness of her skin.

 

He speaks to her

about the gift,

That waits

beneath the ocean

of his desire.

Within him,

Seeking,

with patience

and love,

For what is soft

and expectant,

Folded,

yet giving. 

 

For they shall plant seeds

together,

And scatter them,

But none too far,

With careful hands,

In the soil of their

roots.

 

For he desires

the flowers,

Which remain hidden

beneath the ground,

So that he may place them

gently,

in the silk of her hair.

For they are also

part of her.

 

Their promise,

is tightly kept,

Like the leaves of the bud,

Around the stems of their flowers.

Waiting,

For the breath,

of the sun,

to awaken them.

 

He listens to her,

Eyes closed,

Comforted by her presence,

Waiting once more

to become part of her.

Seeking roots

within the soil

of their desire,

That brings life,

and feeds nations,

Forgives,

and brings faith.

 

Entwined,

Inseparable,

Expectant and vigilant,

As the seed is,

within the woman,

By this man,

With a love,

That even eternity,

cannot surpass.