Tile Art

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Here are some pictures that just tugged at me to create while walking through my entry.  They are twelve-inch natural stone tiles.   I never noticed the (featured photo) before, but once the face popped out at me…at least three faces in fact…I knew they were perfect for Cee’s Odd Ball Photo challenge.     The eye just seems to adjust for the scene.

These shots remind me of mountain and desert terrain, the color scheme of the Southwest.      What wonders do YOU see here, boys and girls?   I’d love to hear….

(all photos © Sometimes, 2017)

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Dreaming imaginary Prague

(original title: Dreaming imagination)

I have never been to Prague, except in daydreams…
but my impressionable mind is easily led
into the magical world of zithers and Gypsys,
of violins singing and wailing in ageless melodies…
music of joy and abandon…or sadness and melancholy.

Put on your hat, my girl, and come along with me…
We will trip the light fantastic (or is it a Fandango?)
whirling, twirling and dancing …and laughing at nothing
as our echoing soles  click and ring among  the cobblestones…
back to the days of fancy and intrigue.

Halcyon days of exquisite youth and passion for it all–
sordid or glorious, respectable or ridiculous–
days when common sense stayed at home amid the quiet
and comfortable over-stuffed chairs…and crackling radio static
never quite able to drown out the strains of an orchestral tune.

Prickles of goose bumps remind of running with n’er-do-wells
and bad influences…those mysterious, exciting  ones that
never existed, masquerading as “ladies” and “gentlemen,”
life’s forbidden (or at least frowned upon) adventures
among the brilliantly dark recesses of shadowy corners.

The mere mention of Prague always brings unseen wonders–
half-vision, half-dream.      There are Ladies in satiny dresses
and impossible shoes…. dancing away the nights, until dawn.
They sway with the music of instruments with no names,
enticing dangerously handsome partners with unknown designs.

But I digress, as is my wont…
the thoughts of romance and mystery subside–
old Prague returns to an idea that lives on
for dreamers…and poets.

©Sometimes, 2016

Caves of Memories

Back in my Cave…cave…cave…cave…
Safe and sound and daring to breathe..
Here the sounds reverberate from walls,
deep inside the endless complex of caverns….
meandering through tunnels  far from reality.

Here is where My Life lives, a collection of times,
past loves, beautiful memories, painful losses.
All of the things I have learned…and forgotten…
the songs of my life, the cast of characters once known—
both real and imagined.

Strains of music, whispers of love…tender and urgent,
snippets of verse penned in neat finished hand,
ragged untidy stacks of paper—or still in thought forms
of reason and nonsense, within the echoing silence
in the mine of the untapped Memory Lode.

©Sometimes,2016

Echo of Chardonnay WORDLE Special Edition “SOUND”

Sound Wordle

Sounds remain in memory banks to fill a silent void.
As the blind hear what they cannot see,
the Deafened have memories of sounds
in silence echo sonorous nocturnal interludes…
a rustle of taffeta nearby…
the gurgle of the newly uncorked vessel,
with its cheery “pop!” of releasing Chardonnay.

Somewhere a whistle escapes a kettle’s steam
with a strident “woosh!” a steam engine slows.
The crackle of a welcoming  fire,  a heat current conveys
with soft vibrations, the percussive beat of distant drums;
the buzz of a harmless insect seeking aimlessly,
bare tree branches scratching at a window pane…
a thready sigh escapes a whisper of Death.

©Sometimes,2016

 

Haiku for Carpe Diem Full Circle

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai.    Carpe Diem Tokubetsudesu #84 Back In Time.    The assignment is to employ 12 words, in a clockwise direction.   The words are: summer, princess, willow, oasis, palmtrees, camels, cruise-ship, snow, rainblow, yellow, shrine, and prayer/praying.

Here is my contribution.

Tropical summer
Princess Line cruises are full
reminds of willow

at a dreamer’s oasis
palm trees sway gently
camels munch…happy  in  shade.

The cruise ship awaits
far from the snow at my home
colors of rainbow

shades of Sun’s yellow
my mind builds a holy shrine
praying to return some day

© Sometimes, 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(or praying.)

Science in Fiction …and vice-versa

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Being a real fan of Science Fiction requires a flexible imagination, and have an open mind that is capable of accepting for consideration any concept at all.  Its OK to have compartments, or niches, or organizational charts in which these concepts reside—such as:  Possible, Improbable, Unlikely, Impossible But Intriguing, Far-Fetched, Ridiculous, and Boring.

In the first place, anything can apply to classification of Science Fiction.  The “Science” part places restrictions on the subject matter in that purists will want divisions into Real Science…topics that are accepted by almost everybody.  For instance, here is a true scientific fact:  “when we look up into the sky we see  specks of what looks like sparkly things reflecting (or generating) light.”

On the other hand Science Fiction fans might propose that there are, up in the sky, great big diamonds twinkling and shining back at us.  These are very valuable heavenly bodies…which in fact actually may BE what they appear to be…great figurative strings of white holiday lights decorating the vast wilderness of Space for our enlightenment/entertainment/delight/wonder.    The operative word here is “Fiction,” meaning “probably untrue.”

But there we are faced with the dilemma of What is True?   What is Fiction?  In the case of True Facts/Real Science, and other specific terms, the questions appear to be “What are those sparkly things in the Sky?”   The True Science people mumble  all sorts of conjecture about light waves, substance compositions, Albert Einstein, and the magnitude of stars in strength, composition, distance, reflective properties… and prevalent theory.

The Science Fiction adherent— writer, reader, believer—on the other hand, is not handicapped by any “body of theoretical evidence,” itself an oxymoron.  In a given work of fiction, novel or story, the writer comes up with a premise—not a theory, its made up of whole cloth, rather than a restrictive set of rules.

Before I back myself into a corner here, being as how I am NOT a Scientist, let me just say that if a new novel comes out entitled Real Diamonds in the Sky, and the plot of the novel revolves around the discovery that Stars really ARE diamonds…leading to a huge competition among the human race to begin harvesting them.    Which of course immediately renders the diamond/stars worthless.

To paraphrase the standard remark  kids used to say when they gave a book report in class… “if we want to read this novel…or one like it…someone is going to have to write it!”       Unless, of course, Steven Hawking publishes a NON-Fiction best seller with the same title.

 

Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille

Here is my contribution to Chèvrefeuille’s new series called  Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille    with the theme IMAGINATION.    That is right up my alley!   Here’s the announcement:

Dear friends of MLMM,

Welcome at a new episode of Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille… This week I love to challenge you to create haiku inspired on a “modern” art-work. Imagine … fantasize … intuition and so you need this week.

Maybe you known the Dutch painter Piet Mondriaan (1872-1944) he became famous through his modern art-work in which he only used yellow, red and blue and black to create his art.

Mondriaan

(art-work by © Chèvrefeuille)

Here is the artist’s original Haiku, and below is MY (Sometimes) poem.

morning dew shimmers, 
the sun climbs into the sky –
colored cobweb

© Chèvrefeuille

[Blueprint for Variegated, color-coded world]

blue sets the boundaries
yellow stays aloof-apart
red mingles and blends

detail in black lines
shadowing and cohesion
syncretic world map

© Sometimes, 2016

Something lovely…

Sometimes I forget to take my camera with me when I leave home, and invariably I miss some momentous or fantastic shot that haunts me forever…er, maybe not that long…but I would have been truly regretful had yesterday been one of those times!   The cloud dissipated quickly between shots; in a nanosecond the heart was gone.    Would that have this cloud been visible back in the day someplace with my true love, as a lovely omen of wondrous days to come.   However, as fate would have it, I was with my son in the parking lot of the grocery store.  Not exactly romantic…

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heart cloud

Heart Cloud photos © Sometimes, 2016

 

Playing with raindrops

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The white streaks are not only pouring rain, they are on the verge of turning to snow.  This was taken four or five days ago.  🙂
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Raindrop 1

As I was sitting on the deck watching the rain/snow fall, I thought it would be fun to see if I could capture some drops.   These photos, following, are of individual drops into the same puddle…a couple of them are close-ups, and the orientation varies.   Since I am not an engineer (I know, not really a photographer, either… I will refrain from speculating on any mechanical aspects.  I just think the resulting pics are interesting and cool reflections of the puddle-water.   I hope they will fit right in with Cee’s Odd Ball Photo Challenge for this week!

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All photos on this page are © Sometimes, 2016.

what the heck’s a tetractys?

A Tetractys is a poem of five lines, consisting respectively, of 1 syllable, 2 syllables, 3, and 4…followed by a line of 10 syllables.   The long line forms a base for the triangular shape formed by the previous four lines–which add up to 10.  Tetra indicates ten, of course.     A Tetractys poem can also be made into a double, more or less diamond shape, formed of a right-side-up triangle, and a reversed triangle.      Come on all you poets…try your hand!  It’s fun.

when
morning
follows dawn
in its own time
the birds’ clock chimes early to alert them …
they begin to sing their cheery wake song
the time is nigh
to begin
their day’s
work

© Sometimes, 2016

write
I asked:
about what?
if you must ask…
instead of taking up your pen in hand,
start to write the words that flow from within
ignite the spark…
unconscious
flow…sans
thought

©Sometimes, 2016

Z is for a tale about a girl named Zoë, at the end of the A-Z Challenge

A Girl named Zoë

Zoë was a young lady
who believed that just maybe
somewhere…somebody
really existed for her,
so she set about searching.

She heard all the tales told
about princes and toads
that waited along the roads
for lovely maidens…
so they could offer them tea.

Then one fine day our Zoë
met the toad of her dreams…
(just a joke in a poem, ha ha)
not a toad at all……but a charming
young fisherman named Joe.

Joe  was neither a toad– nor a prince —
but he was handsome and single
“He will certainly do!”exclaimed Zoë
as she scampered off gaily, hand-in-hand
with the man of her dreams.

© Sometimes, 2016

R is for RADIO shows in the A-Z

When we were kids, back in the 1940s, we spent inclement Sunday afternoons lying on the living room floor–coloring books and crayons at the ready for “something to do while listening to the radio.”   Then we would listen to a variety of shows which were aimed at no particular listening audience.  Cowboys, Cops, and Crooks of all kinds were the favorites that filled the airways.

TENNESSEE JED– A rifle shot followed by the sound of the ricochet as the bullet hit a rock…and a voice that called out “git ‘im, Tennessee!”  Then Jed, the hero, would go about on various adventures making the Tennessee woods safe from bad guys.

THE LONE RANGER– A horse would whinney, and hooves would clatter, and the sound of an orchestra playing The William Tell Overture would fill the room.  “HI HO, SILVER!” and “What’s up Kimosabe?” introduced the episode’s plot.   The Lone Ranger and his pal, Tonto, their respective horses–Silver, and um…Scout?…  then proceeded to fight bad guys and hostile Injuns.    At the end of each show a mysterious voice would ask plaintively… “WHO was that masked man?”

THE FBI IN PEACE AND WAR– I don’t recall the main characters, but the rousing orchestral music began Bum…bum..bum…bum…BUM de-Bum announcing the FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation) was on the guard against spies and other enemies of the nation.  This was reassuring to us kids, who were indoctrinated to the ways of evil in our very tender years.

Then there was CAPTAIN MIDNIGHT!– The Captain was a caped crusader, very brave and mysterious.  I remember him being shiny dark in the comic books by the same name.  He stood for all that was good.

THE SHADOW always was familiar with the “Evil that lurks in the hearts of men!”  Who knew?  The SHADOW KNOWS!    I believe the hero’s name was Lamontt Cranston…

DICK TRACY– always on guard against Badness.  A police detective who was well-known to Crooks and to the good people of the city, who recognized Dick Tracy as a savior and hero.    He had the “classic detective demeanor” recognizable by his chiseled-facial-features (sharp nose and angular chin…and trench-coat and fedora.)

THE SQUEAKING DOOR– was a hair-raising mystery show, which began with (what else–a squeaking door) and featured all manner of villains and victims, and tales of horror and hints of the supernatural.   Personally I did not listen to the Squeaking Door because I was such a little wimp.

THE INNER SANCTUM– was another of my mother’s favorites.   She would listen to these shows late at night, waiting for my Dad to get home from work around midnight.   She would get so absorbed in listening to these horror shows that she would jump at the slightest unexpected sound.    Mom used to crochet fancy edges onto handkerchiefs, which we would give as teachers’ gifts—which has nothing to do with anything, except that she would be listening intently to the scary stuff on the radio and  concentrating on her needlework.    Listening to radio presentations required great involvement of human imagination.

One time my husband and I were driving in a hilly area of Germany, and the radio station we were listening to (probably AFN, Armed Forces Network) broadcast The War of the Worlds, the original version narrated by actor Orson Welles, which actually scared the heck out of much of the listening audience in the U.S.     Remembering that broadcast even now gives me chills…the mastery of Orson Welles’ narration of the fictitious (but who knew?) but intensely realistic and convincing “breaking news report” of the Martian invasion of New Jersey.  Every time I see those huge power line towers constructed like huge erector-set metal monsters…I am reminded of that radio broadcast.  I have seen Jules Verne’s War of the Worlds numerous times on television or movies….but it is never as effective as when technical effects and details are supplied by my own mind.   The power of imagination!