Archives for category: rose

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people will judge your outlook in life

by your perception of your glass

is it half full ?

or half empty ?

i have a thirst for life

so will simply

savor the taste –

the flavor

of what i drink

i hunger to see

different images

in anything

such as Thunder Thighs

or the beauty of a rose

without colour

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life is not –

to me –

what is in your glass

wether half empty

or half full

but rather

what you fill it with

what you taste

wether it be an mirage of a horse

or the tracks in the desert sand

that will vanish

with the slight stirring

of the wind

arabian-1486 tracks-2

what boots

will i walk in today ?

will i leave tracks

that anyone will follow ?

will anyone thirst

for what i have seen ?

boot copy

 

Shakespeare ,

to my way of feeling,

had it wrong-

it should not be written as –

” a horse- a horse-my kingdom for a horse ”

but rather

“MY Kingdom IS my Horse !”

Jake and I -4928 copy

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people love roses :

when they are at a peak of bloom

a beauty in the garden

of life

but not when the gown of beauty

is wrinkled and worn

petals falling

the perfume fading

the makeup washed away

by time –

to me

beauty is ageless

and love is

when you can still view your other

as when you first

joined with them

without the blemish

of age , of time

and all the wrinkles

etched on our faces

are a roadmap

of our souls

of our journey

intertwined

in this life

we have traveled

thru together

 

if i were a Prince

in this life

or next

i would search the ballroom

of faded beauties

to find only you

and slip the glass slippers

on your slender feet

and dance

the last waltz

with only you

 

can you find  the beauty

in these aged beauties

that time has

turned old ?

aged rose-0254 aged rose-0236 aaged rose-0198 aged rose-0234

 

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-

 

 

Roses are  to me  beautiful

and so like a woman -along with the softness and beauty-thorns to bring a man to earth- to add a little pain to the soul so we lest not forget- they are woman

a small portfolio of Rosesa morning rose for my Lady copy new rose past-0067 copy aging beauty-1431 copy tagged rose-3845

i would give you a new rose

as i have many times before

but each time i bring you one

a rose such as this

it is always a fresh desire in my mind

ignited by the fragrance of the perfume

worn by the Gods

distilled in the fires that  heated

the weapons forged for the Heros

that i bid protect your heart

from the misfortunes of life