Timothy Spearman writes & shoots

Old Hag Crossing Bridge

Red cherry blossoms bloom

Opening vistas of past history

emerging from the morning mist

and from the mists of past memory

of events long gone but not forgotten

Old hag crossing bridge

leaving past behind

Bridge of mid-life crossed

Old Bag carries bag

She is bag lady

Photographer is poet

words are in her lens

but she is speechless

and cannot form words

So wordsmith articulates

visual poetry in photo

of Chinese photographer

She is pleased

she loves wordsmith

She knows what words are worth

from this modern day Wordsworth.

They are romantics he and she

She says she belongs the past

That is what the bridge is for

it links past with future

Never turn your back on the past

It might catch up with you

on the other side of the bridge

Some call it karma

You can't escape

The past follows you

You think you are old

but your steps shorten

like those of a child

and you walk with a cane

Life is a circle

like a snake eating its tail

We go back to the beginning

and start over again

The cycle of births and deaths

is unremitting and relentless

re-embodied souls in different bodies

But there is always a bridge

linking past and future

called the evolution of the soul

  A Poeture Speaks a Thousand Words

Timothy Spearman shoots & writes

Blanket of Snow

Blankets of snow cover branches

Trees nestled in a bed of snow

Bushes like pillows on snow mattress

Sleeping Beauty beds down on snowy down feathers

Branches dip in to pond

testing the waters

like a toe testing the bathwater

Is the water warmer than the air?

Empty bridge between shores

Unity that cannot be merged

No one to cross the bridge

Why is it there?

Is it for lost souls

who might wish to cross?

Is this stagnant pond in limbo?

Or is it the fast-flowing River Styx?

Where is the boatman?

Where is the boat?

Where is the corpse of the deceased?

So much water under the bridge

in a life that has seen so much

Persephone in the underworld

Hades keeping her prisoner

Will she be back in time for spring?

Will the groundhog see her shadow?

Hibernating trees under blankets of snow

Sleeping Beauties under blankets of eiderdown

Cabin fever and February blues

Spring fever and April rains

Do you not long for spring?

May tree limbs poke their limbs out

from beneath blankets of snow

May trees stretch and yawn

and drag themselves out of the bed of snow

"Hey you!

up and at em

rise and shine

don't be a sleepy head

come out of hibernation

don't sleep your life away,"

says the groundhog to the Sleeping Beauties.

       A Poeture Speaks a Thousand Words

Timothy Spearman writes and shoots

A Waking Dream
 

She sleeps while I wake

I walk the earth, she the astral plane

She is asleep but awake

I am awake but asleep

I’d prefer to wake in her dream

and walk in her sleep

Am I a butterfly dreaming I am with her?

Or am I with her dreaming I am a butterfly?

Let us fly to the past so we can see the future

Let us soar to the future so we can survey the past

May we wake in our dream

And dream when we wake

 "A Poeture Speaks a Thousand Words"