Author: jennyhayut

photograph-NaPoWriMo

a patchwork of a day

sewn from behind the glass

sometimes in solitude, sometimes flowing with life

sometimes in black and white, sometimes with hues amass

sorting through, zooming in zooming out

gaining perspectives of what is worthy and what need not be saved

from wrong angles pursued, or the distance gaining clout

to getting lost out of focus, an abstract of view

or too sharp of lines, unable to see beyond their course

she listens to each one with great care letting the vision, the art come through

flipping sometimes slowly sometimes anxious to see

the day in its glory, painted moments to have

deleting those unwanted, those that offer no pleasantry

I wrote this for this first day of #Napowrimo . I may participate every day or maybe not since I’m still having to work daily but I love the way it pushes the imagination and gives us something to look forward to and create every day.

Today’s assignment was to write a self-portrait poem on which you make a specific action a metaphor in your life. I chose the act of seeing the world through my camera, capturing images, relating it to the perspectives and choices we make in life.

remnants of a storm

 

Hugs

 

surprise hugs that steal the breath away,

catching you off guard,

leaving you in dismay.

 

a warm hug that makes you feel grown,

like finishing a long trip

and returning to a holiday home.

 

family hugs that are hard to bear,

hard to get away from

it’s like you’re caught in a snare.

 

charitable hugs that make you feel less alone,

the realization of your sadness

cuts to the bone.

 

an extended hug,

reminding you of the yesterdays,

of the minutes, the moments, the years

all that has led to you two parting ways.

 

hugs consoling human suffering,

and you don’t care who sees your tears.

you don’t care about people hovering.

 

hugs that make you feel sexually alive;

they embarrass you; no one has held you like that in so long

that it’s hard not to cry.

 

routine hugs that come as second-nature

unlike vibrant hugs

between chasee and chaser.

 

hugs of singular awareness,

which are a rarity;

you two hugging so tight…you create your own

singularity.

-Robert Storm

 

Bruce Hornsby/Mandolin Rain

 

One Immortal Day

 

come sail with me

atop the clouds,

the earth smothering away

just us sailing

one immortal day

 

we leave port at dawn,

no compass to guide the way.

just us drifting

 

i’ll show you the first satellite

and where atlantis sat in the bay.

i’ll show you the land of agartha

as we grow old on this day

 

i’ll nip and nuzzle your hair,

while with my fingers you play,

massaging them like you do,

in that absentminded way.

 

around the globe we’ll go

forever to drift and forever to play,

in love

one immortal day

-Robert Storm

 

Today marks the anniversary of the death of my dear friend and poet, Robert Storm. Writing under this pen name, he lived a very private life yet opened up so much of himself as a friend, a fellow writer and a genuine human being. He was my beloved imaginative friend, an avid hiker and rock climber with an infectious laugh, never-ending wit and gentlemanly charm. Simply, he was loved and he is missed.

Much like me, he didn’t conform to social expectations with his writing as no one genre could keep him captive.  At the time of his death he was working on his first novel, Fire From Olympus, a hybrid of sorts with elements of horror and Greek mythology.  He had a brilliant mind and at the age of 45, was taken too soon. Every year in the month of September I honor his struggle and memory by bringing awareness and donating to a local leukemia society.

A year before he passed away he was able to bring a dream to life by becoming published. His book of poems, Almy, was his first and only release and one that I shall treasure and honor by not letting his voice die.  From the two pieces above I’ve selected to share, “Hugs” was a piece he was quite fond of and “One Immortal Day” was a favorite of mine. Thank you for reading and if interested, I’m including a link to his collection. I’m also humbly asking writers within the community to consider donating to a local leukemia or cancer society in his honor or for a family member or friend that you may know stricken with it. Thank you again and may we all be reminded of the importance of living every day to its fullest and finding the courage and perseverance to follow our dreams.

img_2634

 

 

watching the wind catch your ashes

yet feeling your hand in mine

-jenny

bare

 

the

simplicity

of

a

bare

shoulder

and

every

silent

invitation

that

unfolds

 

because trees shall always feed my imagination, much like cloud surfing, i find images and faces within them. as if their soul is coming out in slow doses to say hello. when i came upon this image it instantly called to my sensual side with its curves sloping and embracing one another. the words followed…

desire: a haiku

every desire

drifts in the age of the trees

where my secrets keep

When one loves trees as much as me, going to a tree arboretum is definitely like stepping into an enchanted kingdom. These images were captured at Maymont Park in Richmond, Virginia. The park is home to many exotic and native trees which quite frankly will take your breath away if you’re a tree hugger (literally) like me.

At the age of 44, I proved after leaving here that I could still climb a tree as their ancient branches called to my inner child. I will undoubtedly be returning to capture the changes in these majestic giants and this stunning park through the seasons. Thank you for visiting and if you’d like to see more of the images I captured at Maymont, please visit my Instagram here

el capitan

mountainous tops peaking

cresting above carpets of scarlet

drinking in the sun

where winds channel your dream

beyond babbling brooks

that hitched a ride between the clouds

where taunts of

el capitan

el capitan,

he’s waiting for you

drift upon an eagle’s wing

                      ….i sit,

among the junipers, those old souls

pretending for a while you are there

til i cry

til i remember why

it is here

here is where your ashes are meant to fly

                     ….i climb

among the junipers, they know your soul

already calling to you

already letting go

i whisper back

promise you won’t let me fall