.
soap white half moon
moves up through
winter sky's chill
steel blue
cottony
mist hangs over
green lit water
wispy as ghost
trails big
jet high
above
Distrail (opposite of contrail: jet exhaust has caused thin cloud layer to dissolve): photo by Mila Zinkova, 2005
10 comments:
Beautiful description of the picture above. Or if not, the picture gels well with your words written and I am loving the image
'wispy as ghost
trails'
And another thing.....'Silent' is a good title (I am thinking)to emphasize the beauty of an image.
I have tried to teach myself to "see" the image that will fit the words, and converse with them...but of course, though sometimes I am able to find exactly the one that feels right, there's always matter of luck (as well as a matter of time) involved in the searches.
With this one I was in luck, as you see. Perfect atmosphere. Mila Zinkova, genius.
Once I found that picture, the title came instantly. (To be honest, I had you in mind as well as Ms. Zinkova).
Brilliant picture!
"Cottony mists" conjures up images of lazy clouds, which can't quite find the energy to form and that just pepper the sky. I'd imagine them being rather affronted some jet has come by and disturbed them...
I've attemtped a sonnet on wintry skies here:
http://ripplesinasmallpond.blogspot.com/2009/11/winters-fall.html
Great words to refer to the image, you are a good poet tom, I lke how you write.
Love
M
it seems that you are able to breathe in and with these images and then convey that encounter in the lovely choice and flow of words... I really enjoy reading your work.
To "breathe in and with" the images, to feel and hear their life, quietly, as if eavesdropping...
wispy as ghost
trails big
jet high
above
very nice use of words Tom. Wonderful imagery.
I have wanted to ask you for a while now about the photos on this blog. Why do you prefer to couple poems with photos rather than just the words alone?
Otto,
If I were looking at this blog, this would be the first question I would ask.
The blog has made me understand how strong the impulse to think in images has been for me. At times that sort of thing can be forgotten amid the never-ending verbals.
The words have always come first. But they have been made to show a little respect for the images. In the end they seem not to have minded, perhaps even enjoyed the company.
I suppose the entire history of this blog is that of a modest experiment in thinking of images and texts at play with and/or speaking with each other, or even better yet, not speaking, just lying there side by side, as if after having had some sort of interesting relations of which we are allowed to know perhaps not very much, only just this. Silent.
Post a Comment