You remember and dwell on all the things you’ve lost and ignore all the things you haven’t. Because your scars are like stars. Yet the night stays perfectly black. —the perfect apathy (pleasefindthis Friday, August 7, 2009)
pleasefindthis (the pen name of Iain S. Thomas) is best known for the I Wrote This For You project, which he began in 2007 as a blog with photographer, Jon Ellis. The project was published as a book in December of 2011 and appears on bestseller lists weekly. He lives in Cape Town, South Africa and shares his home with his wife, daughter and various animals.
Waiting at a period eating place which features songs from a past era. The light jazz music brings back the old time for those of a certain age. Interestingly the young millennial (a third generation of my extended family) who introduced me to this place is only in late twenties and happened to like the food and wine. We waited for at least half an hour for the six-nine pm crowd to leave to get to our reserved seats. It was certainly a popular place for private chill. There were not less than five rounds of “happy birthday” songs to five separate groups of diners during our rather hurried brief stay. I gobbled up my salad as I was in a hurry due to other engagements. The poor millennial had to gulp down the wine and pack home the pork rips. Well, I may return for the music if I happen to pass that place again. But the waiting was too long for this traveler. (Sigh)
A picture on the wall of a mining museum. A man and his dog. From the background it appears they sat for this portrait in the artist’s studio. How long had they been patiently sitting together in this posture? How many sessions? Perhaps not too long. In real life how long had they been friends? I recall two faithful dogs (our longstanding family friends) we used to have as kids. They were mother and son, the son lived about fifteen years, the mother lived eighteen years. They accompanied us growing up. After they were gone, I do not remember my parents keeping another dog.
Some years ago while jogging along the lakeside, I looked up and suddenly found that the world had lost its colours. Closing my eyes I then reopened them and found that truly the colours had gone. There was no more differentiation of the living things around me by colours. The trees and grass lost their green. The sky lost its blue. The clouds lost their white. The water lost its turquoise. The ground lost its yellow and brown. The flowers lost their pink. It was like a dream painted with shades of grey. I was transported into a monochrome realm. I continued to walk slowly and looked at the changed world around me. There were no people. Even the birds were gone. Did I lose my own perception of colours or did I accidentally enter a portal to another world? I never knew. I sat down under some trees and closed my eyes again and waited. I could sense colours returning with burst of sunlight and sounds of happy children around. When I opened my eyes again my colorful world had returned.
The experience made me really think about life. My life. How I have taken for granted the things around me. The colours. The beauty. The masterpiece of creation. My eyes. My perception. I shall never forget.
(Note: I took those names of some shops at random. Tried out their combination with a fish taken from an aquarium. Edited.)
Fall is a beautiful mellow and tender season like my favorite watercolor art. This year’s fall tried to linger but could not bear the early arrival of the cold. It was ironical that I liked the leaves to turn into richer colors while at the same time I hoped that they would not fall. I did not expect the loss of photography opportunity so soon. A few gems did appear out of the hasty work.
~~~~~~~~~~~~Wise sayings from a wise king about the late autumn of a man’s life:
Remember Him—before the silver cord is severed, and the golden bowl is broken; before the pitcher is shattered at the spring, and the wheel broken at the well, and the dust returns to the ground it came from, and the spirit returns to God who gave it.
Seeing with your heart
I am next to you in tune
You are not alone
At first the traveler thought there was just one lone bird perched on a pole. When looking closely at the picture, another tiny bird emerged on a lower pole. Voilà! Not a lone bird after all.
(This much reduced-size photo was taken from a series at random by another traveler who kindly shared them. Sizes of photo-data are reduced as internet is limited and costly here. The sky is so water-color-dream-like. It reminded this traveler of the first water-color assignment copied from a magazine as a kid many years ago.)
And God said, “Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the vault of the sky.” 21 So God created the great creatures of the sea and every living thing with which the water teems and that moves about in it, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. 22 God blessed them and said, “Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the water in the seas, and let the birds increase on the earth.” (Genesis 1:20-22)
Look out small dog barked
Someone left behind this pic
Such a wondrous scene
When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have ordained, what is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You visit him?
Today we sail and navigate through the word ‘poetry’ (a collection of poems).
Here are some definitions by various conventional dictionaries on the word ‘poem’: At one end of the spectrum a ‘poem’ is defined as a piece of writing in which the words are chosen for their sound and the images they suggest, not just for their obvious meanings. The words are arranged in separate lines, usually with a repeated rhythm, and often the lines rhyme at the end. In summary it can bear the following characteristics:
1. A verbalcompositiondesigned to conveyexperiences,ideas, or emotions in a vividandimaginativeway,characterized by theuse of languagechosenforitssoundandsuggestivepowerand by theuse of literarytechniquessuch as meter,metaphor,andrhyme.
2. A composition in verseratherthan in prose:wrotebothproseandpoems.
3. A literarycompositionwrittenwith an intensity or beauty of languagemorecharacteristic of poetrythan of prose.
It’s origin: [Frenchpoème, fromOldFrench,fromLatinpoēma, fromGreekpoiēma, frompoiein, to create
At the other end of the spectrum, it can come in the form of ‘free verse’ (vers libre in French). The characteristics of free verse is that it is not confined in any form.Free verse poems have no regular meter and rhythm, do not follow a proper rhyme scheme as such; these poems are based on normal pauses and natural rhythmical phrases as compared to the artificial constraints of normal poetry.
Where does a haiku fit in? Because haiku originates from Japan and is written in the Japanese language, the most an English writer can do is to follow the number of lines and the count of syllabus in each line. For example, I adopt the format with three lines of 5 syllables/ 7 syllables/ 5 syllables. The haiku usually talks about nature. In the following example, I describe an old man observing the signs of youth and life as depicted by Spring time:
seeing a wee bird
bravely perching on new twig
stirs up his old heart
I like to add original visual images too to enhance the presentation. Sometimes I add audio rhythm too as I am led in my spirit to read it aloud. (I can’t find a close-up bird picture today so I use an older picture taken of a bird flying high and you can see it if you enlarge the view).