poetry

Chiseled Features

The artist, inspired by love and fear
created him out of stone
Chiseled features hide his tears
as he dreams of flesh and bone.
– EH

ChiseledFeatures-WebImage

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Struggling for Hope

Nikon D300, ISO 500, 85mm, f/5.6, 1/25 sec

Nikon D300, ISO 500, 85mm, f/5.6, 1/25 sec

Broken and torn, shattered
shards of dreams and promises litter the floor
inflicting new pain as we step through the memories
progress, hindered by repetition of the unknown and the unwanted.

Agony, punctuated by tears
what happened? why this? why him? please wake up!
this isn’t where we’re supposed to be
remorse for what has been lost, fear of what is to come.

The loved and the loving
stand helpless and unappeased
watching lives dissolving in torrents of wet grief
mouths incapable of finding words to match the depth of the heart.

Trust, believe and fight, fight, fight
there is a plan, a purpose not yet revealed
counsels echo through the hours in the struggle for hope
and he reaches out to touch the hem of a beautiful cherished robe.

– December 10, 2012

AN EXPLANATION

Last August, on the eve of my birthday, we learned that my partner of 20 years had a new battle with cancer to fight. Having already been through 5 surgeries over the course of 4 years, we thought we had passed through this valley once and for all when he was pronounced cancer-free following radiation treatments ending in October, 2011. A PET scan reiterated this finding in February, 2012.With the August pronouncement of a new tumor in a new location, we packed our house and moved across the country to be closer to family. Perhaps you have noticed that this had a significant impact on my ability to post on my blog until now. With computer and camera gear now accessible at last, I shall strive to update it more regularly, occasionally sharing moments of this journey into hell and perhaps finding a bit of catharsis in the process.

The Sick Rose

O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
– William Blake

Nikon D300, ISO 200, 1/125 sec at f/1.8, 35 mm

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Tomorrow!

Coming upon this couple sitting in the park, I knew I wanted to photograph them. They were so comfortable, so sure of themselves and each other – in just a few seconds of interaction, I could tell these two individuals thought with one mind. Their togetherness was as sure as the promise of tomorrow.

When I had finished taking the photo, the gentleman glanced at my Nikon camera and said, with a gleam in his eye, “There. Now you’ve got a little German in your camera.” That being so, I won’t complain if it grows up to be a Hasselblad.

Tomorrow!

Tomorrow again will shine the sun
And on my sunlit path of earth
Unite us again, as it has done,
And give our bliss another birth…
The spacious beach under wave-blue skies
We’ll reach by descending soft and slow,
And mutely gaze in each other’s eyes,
As over us rapture’s great hush will flow.
– John Henry Mackay

Nikon D300, ISO 200, 1/100 sec at f/1.8, 50 mm

Mackay’s original German text of the poem follows:

Morgen!

Und morgen wird die Sonne wieder scheinen
und auf dem Wege, den ich gehen werde,
wird uns, die Glücklichen sie wieder einen
inmitten dieser sonnenatmenden Erde…
und zu dem Strand, dem weiten, wogenblauen,
werden wir still und langsam niedersteigen,
stumm werden wir uns in die Augen schauen,
und auf uns sinkt des Glückes stummes Schweigen…
– John Henry Mackay

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Beautiful Two-Lips

 

Nikon D300, ISO 200, f4, 1/1000th

There are tulips in the garden,
There are tulips in the park,
But none is more beautiful
Than two lips meeting in the dark.
— Anonymous

Yellow Tulips & My First Haiku Attempt

The tulips bloom:
Fireworks
sputter out.

This isn’t a new photograph, but it is the one that pretty much marks the beginning of my love affair with photographing tulips. One of the things I most look forward to each spring is the appearance of the gorgeous tulips that grow so prolifically in the yards of Salt Lake Valley homes, parks and gardens. They are a reminder that we’ve reached the few months of reprieve from the cold. Along with the daffodils, hyacinths and crocus, they burst forth in a beautiful display of color, igniting the landscape all too briefly.

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My Favorite Things


I’d give all wealth that years have piled,
The slow result of Life’s decay,
To be once more a little child
For one bright summer day.
~Lewis Carroll, Solitude

These were a few of my favorite things...

The greatest poem ever known
Is one all poets have outgrown:
The poetry, innate, untold,
Of being only four years old.
~Christopher Morley, To a Child

View greeting cards from EarlHarrisPhotography.com

The Enkindled Spring

The Enkindled Spring

This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,

Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,

Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between

Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.

I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration

Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze

Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,

Faces of people streaming across my gaze.

And I, what fountain of fire am I among

This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed

About like a shadow buffeted in the throng

Of flames, a shadow that’s gone astray, and is lost.

– D. H. Lawrence

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