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Follow the path below to my learn by doing photography course

Continue the journey through the Power Point to see poems

represented by photos

Light pervades the valley

Illuminating the highlights & deepening the contrast of Shadows

On this day, the light pours down as on no other day before and as it never will againIt is the “God light”

Luminescent

Wondrous

Awe-inspiring

Fleeting Chasing Light

Chasing Shadows

I am pursued by clouds thick and billowing

Paying no heed to Time,

Narrowing Opportunities

To Paint To Capture

To See

Grass HogLong fields of weeds and butterflies

Sun blazing hot, beating down, wrapping

Me in her arms.

The rumble & vibrations power my iron horse,

As it gallops down the rows of perfectly grown

Chaos. All the work of God’s hands

Usurped by the spinning blades.

Wind kisses my brow, storm clouds

Black, thick & threatening. Someday

It will end, when the World is paved over,

And Sun beats down on a single weed

Pushing through the pavement.

Resurrected.

Calliegirl Runs with Angels

Lately I feel more worn than young inside,

My Calliegirl can well attest to that,

Still, she has seen more rowdy days herself,

Quite ignorant to times’ unswerving course

I suspect this unknowing keeps her young;

Aware of nothing but companionship

And faithful service to that end. Her leash,

Once taut on our daily jaunt, now droops more

Though I see her tail still wags quite swiftly.

In the next life I pray we will sit and

Speak splendidly for hours about our dreams

And I can finally find out what those looks meant.

Fall days like these, decay pervades the air,

Stiff pre-winter gusts, psychedelic snow,

As last leaves cascade from the trees to form

Rainbows we stroll through and on. As we walk,

Hearing her pant steady and excited,

Taking in all the newness from the path

We have walked along for years, strengthens me.

Her tail wag beats rhythmically on my leg

While she investigates odors I will

Never smell. The kids who used to pet her

As we made our rounds now honk their horns as

They drive by. Forever optimistic,

Calliegirl considers chase then submits

To wisdoms’ call, content that if she wants

She could catch the spinning wheels. At the end

Of our journey, she sits attentively,

Paw raised, awaiting brush, the wipe, the treat.

At the foot of my bed she circles once,

Then twice, and collapses, dreaming of bones

She’s stored like squirrels stow nuts. I pat her head,

Say “goodnight girl” and kiss her brow gently.

Sleep comes easily, my friend at her post,

Dreading days when I no longer hear her

Nails’ tap-dance prance across the wooden floor

Leading down the hall to the leash and door.

When I think of my feetAnd where they’ve taken meI remember a lot of pain, andThere is your face - and autumn.

We drive through our town; I remarkHow fireplaces create smoke signalsWhile Smoke gets in your eyes playsOn the radio, in my orange ’72 Duster,

426 big block - that I had bought withThe money I made working blacktopAnd fixed with my dad those nights inOur garage – and you were there, in’83.

That amazing summer was magic and rainbowsAnd I knew we’d never have that fine a time again You sat there snapping your gum incessantly Glopping on strawberry lip-gloss and brushing

Your gleaming golden locks with a giant pink Plastic comb, I’d won for you at the carnival While I in my faded Levi’s and worn out Leather, duck-tail and all, just let it be

Then there was your so-called “best” friend, What was her name? The one that told you You can do better than me? She was right. Although I often think that I’d have made

Something more of myself with you on my team,By my side like we used to whisper it would be, Instead I weep for unfilled years from then till now,- And every summer that returns to autumn.

Dame

A sexy French poodle in a blue taffeta dressKnocked me off my Scooter, made my shirtA mess. But it was worth it, for an old bullDoggie like me. As poodles go, she was a

Looker, a real hot hound, faraway more soThan your grimy little alley cat, undeniably, Unlike any Bitch I ever met, we bow-wow-wowed Well into the doghouse hours,

Past the point of no redress, so we stayed andTangoed well into the night and spent the whole Next afternoon picking bones. We nuzzled noses, Marking our territory, making our way home

Running in the rain, stopping and kissingUnder every lamp-post and street light,Our leashes dragging in the wind, If myEx-pooch could only see me now,

Frumpy old mongrel, happily she’d tell meI’d never amount to anything much, now I runWith purebreds, barking loud all over town,Improving my pedigree, like a doggie should.

TEARS

Tears of laughter, Tears of pain

Tears of joy, Tears of shame

Tears united, Tears apart

Tears from heaven and from the heart.

The tears we cry which cloud our eyes

Are the tears we cry at sad good-byes

Tears of sorrow, Tears of fear

Tears for loved ones no longer here.

Tears of love, Tears of pride

Oceans filled with the tears we’ve cried

Tears of anguish, Tears untamed

No two tears are cried the same.

Tears of passion and broken hearts

Tears which yearn for brand new starts

Tears of triumph and of defeat

Tears which cry out from the streets.

Tears of freedom, Tears we frame

Silent tears cried in vain

Tears from shadows, Tears from lies

Tears at night when babies cry.

These tears are honest

These tears are true

These tears I’ve passed from me to you.

And so my love come hold me near

And so my love and dry these tears.

Wishbox AngelI see you in my mindEver presentEver thereI feel you in my heartAlways closeI know you careI hear you in the echoesOf the songsSung by birdsI am happy and I smileWhen the AngelsSpeak these words:

“Close your eyes my dear onesChoose your dreams this night

Wise and gentle wordsNever hidden from our sightMake a wish my sweet ones

Before you go to sleepAnd in your little WishboxPlace them dark and deep

And when you wake my precious childFrom your restful night

And open up your window shadesAnd see the sun so bright

All the wishes you have madeWill magically come true

And all the love the world can bring Will belong to you.”

Your Wishbox will be openedYour wishes all been readAnd all your dreams and hopesThat dance within your headWill leave their place of solitudeAnd join the here and nowTo spread a little hopeIn place of fear and doubt.So smile as you goThroughout your everydayAnd know my little dear onesYour angels guide your way.

TrystToday I saw Merry Turtle dancing, graceful as a butterfly in heatFeet dressed in ballerina slippers, silken pink. Mesmerized by Her hard decorative shell I stared, bathed in amber glow it glistenedSwaying trees filtered the warmest light, kind that turns a deeper hue

Shades of greens and summer blues on the banks of the backwaters at Carlson’s Creek. This place feels familiar and safe like act three of aNeil Simon play. Out of the corner of my eye a shadow fell, in camePrancing a colossal contingency of frogs, your average green variety

Led triumphantly by the most charming fellow - a great deal largerAnd fatter than the rest with cheeks as big as airbags, and a voice likeSinatra’s after two or three glasses of wine. To the sacred turtle queen’sDaughter he coyly bowed, then bellowed loud in heavy bass baritone,“I’m Croaker B. Frog, my darling dear; may I ask you for this dance?”

A curtsy, a twirl, a smile, a laugh and ballerina slippers, silken pink Pirouetted Croaker’s way, “Don’t mind if I do” Merry pronouncedThe average greens formed a large circle, chanting and playing flutes While Croaker B. Frog & Merry Turtle, danced under the daytime moonPerforming the Danish Hootchie Coochie, and Belarusian Trot.

Occasionally there would be some dips, but always, Merry Turtle led,Healthy gal that she was. “Why do you dance, Merry?” Said Croaker B.To Merry Turtle “Same reason you sing, because the world is so horrible,Too horrible for me to write a poem about – so I dance instead, to forget

The bad and celebrate living.” Merry Turtle and Croaker B. danced for hoursTo the Average greens fanciful flutes, graceful as butterflies, enjoying oneAnother’s company, deciding on nothing new but to live and to laugh and be.Alone, I slither off unnoticed, content to seek my prey and music elsewhere.

Salina County Jail Cell

Air thick and heavy with Smell of urine and funk Cold, hard, sticky floorMontenegro seems like a Distant fantasy to me now If the bastards want me They can come and get me,

They look like dorks. Some Pretentious, some arrogant,

Almost all are full of shitBeans and bread at sixLights out at eight.

ComposureOne more plate crashes hard against the wall, Then coffee cups hurled like a pitchers’ Best curve. Shrapnel swarms like bees at my cheek

But floorboards creak, an omen foreshadowsA light in the hall, the smell of his thoughts, Goose flesh, I bite and barely breathe as he Mumbles stumbles and falls. The lamp shattersLoudly the pig calls out my name, “Hera!”

Intimidation, only love he knows. When night chases away the day, its worse, Nowhere to go but bed, where I lie still Praying he finds me fast asleep so he Won’t pick and peck at my too weary bones

Musty mixture of booze with sweat and smoke As I mollycoddle him to our bed Before I pay for some made up offense, Punishable by fists and force on face.

Later that night, with lit cigarette on Back stoop, I conjure curses as I sit In muted stillness, far-off from bell chimes thatWind would play like magic when God Breathed, Long before beatings, before Mighty Zeus

My stomach ties and unties double knots I am stranded in this valley alone, Between Mount Everest and Olympus.

330-727-8501

Ronald Milan Gurarmg67spica@yahoo.com