Archives for category: photo

Dragon -0275 finger dragon-0279

a Hero

is one who

offers

up their

tears

so that another’s

Soul

may grow

 

i cannot

shed tears

for myself

as i age

only

hope

that i can take my place

alongside

my Ancestors

in the

Halls of Valhalla

and become an

Ancestor

myself

worthy of being

remembered

family of future ancestors

age – old – ancient – history –

once upon a time –

memories

a pattern of wrinkles etched on our souls ,

far deeper than the wrinkles etched

on our bodies

a roadmap of our journey thru life

that life will discard without a thought

 

 

my hair is grey now

my feeling of being immortal

has long since past

stories i could tell,

but will anybody listen ?

to a man with no voice

yet i can sing better than Elvis

or Pavoratti !

when i sing in the shower

but my silent voice

is washed away by the shower waters

down the drain

 

i was fortunate to live in Japan when the Japanese still held the value of their elders as a treasure -when to be old was not a distraction to the  living   – but rather a teacher of value to be admired and respected  – the Japanese held their elders in respect for a history to learn from – but even now this history is vanishing-

 

in my country   – aged people are more often shuffled off to a “retirement home” where they are visited once in a while – the wealth of their memories is not listened to much – and will pass into dust as they will soon themselves pass into the ages

 

are we    who have much to still listen to – who gave the youth their lives – not worthy to listen to ?  are we not worthy of respect for our age , our memories , our mistakes that we can help the youth avoid ?

 

nostalgia – memories distorted

by our own memories

 

this is all written out of nostalgia – it started with the memory of my first horseback ride- at a castle in Northern Japan in 1957 by a lake  – i was put on the horse by a man who slapped him on the rump and off i went into a forest of tall trees – but then i was little and the trees and horse were big- thats it  –  no more memory of this

and then my memory of a great TV show   hosted by Richard Boone–it was about how possibly the first horse came to the plains Indians   – horses were reintroduced by the Spanish Conquistadors during the conquest of the Americas- the Indian happened onto a horse- a strange animal clad in saddle and armor standing grazing on the prairie in a sunrise  – it took some telling – but the Indian managed to shed the saddle and other stuff from the horse and got onto its back- he fell off a number of times as the horse ran – and got back on- but then the most exhilerating  thing –   my memory  – the Indian finally staying on the horse as it RAN galloping across the plain in the silence of the end of the day- the Indian with his arms outstretched – on a beast that let him race with the winds that swept the plains  — and FEEL the freedom of the Gods

 

this morning i took some iPhone photos of roses –

roses have a short life of beauty – of a fragrant smell –

and then fade from memory

yet even in aging

beauty has its beauty

that memory can recall and not let fade

 

there was once another TV program that i remember – that of two ancient people who had fallen in love with each other and lived  their lifetimes together- they aged – and not gracefully as aging  will do – but they saw each other -not as growing older- but as the beauty of their youthful dream of love – they saw themselves as they were because they did not age in their love for each other – they saw themselves as they were

 

love is not defined by any one thing – a horse can bring you passion beyond anything you may know -a flower may bring you beauty in its dying moments – these few photos i offer rose-iPhone-3149 aged rose-iPhone-3150 aged rose-iPhone-3151 aged rose-iPhone-3152 rose-iPhone-3154 copy bring a beauty of a dying rose- a beauty of age-

 

 

i will try this again and see if it works

 

http://banzai.see.me/exposure2013

wether it be as big as the Sky

or as small as a flower,

God and Nature can paint in colors

that pink rose-3920 copy white color -3736 copy aging beauty-1431 copy blushing rose-6718 copy iris-0505 copy yellow rose-6420 copy dancers to a waltz-7215 copy new rose past-0067 copy white color-9574 roses copycan astound the senses

self portrait-4948 Lurkey-iPhone photo 2944

why is it that everything that mankind comes in contact with    –  it wants to control – or cage – or tame – or define ? – can you define loneliness ?   define joy ?  define freedom ?   LOVE ?   yes—we try –  can we define the wind ?  how it can stir the skirts of a beautiful vision of a woman as she sways past – can we define the tears that a lover gone away yet still lingers in the depths of my heart can bring – can anyone tell me how much rain can fall from my eyes when my heart can cry an ocean

i write words that are a poor interpetation of my emotions  – i share my life with a horse—Jake—who is freedom of the Wind—of my Spirit—-i can photograph him- i can write descriptions of him- but i cannot describe anywhere close the look in his eye when the trickster comes to life and he wants to share himself with me- when he wants me to FEEL his freedom

i can only watch in wonder at the Freedom of the Wind