(Well, perhaps not, but what a great title for a post, eh?)
Since I posted last night, I have gained a another Follower. I had two. Now I have three. Following along after me in the shadows...Cloaked in Darkness, and feeding on the moon. Reveling in the night and all the promises that it holds in the Garden!
Yup. Those are my Followers all right.
(not sure what the Google Followers are, there were a lot of them, weren't there? If someone could explain..)
I might not have mentioned it, but that Haiku War last night, while I was away, was the BEST! And you did make me proud Fiends, and then some.
I have two more night garden poems for you tonight, but first, I thought we should have photos, and I was going to just nip over and steal some from Nathilie, as she is very good with them, but then I told Aleta SHE could not go off and steal things, so I thought I might better make an attempt...Challanged as I am in the matter of picture taking, but these were fun.
(Something tells me I have a seriously limited time to get this Sunflower Photo right....)
Here's the little darling in it's entirety....
And then I started playing around with it, and turned it into this....
And not to go all artsy on yourselves, it just struck me that the stories these two photos tell are so completely different, and the feelings they stir up are exactly opposite, yet completely the same.
Ok, Might have lost it, and y'all most likely learned these things in Photography 1101, but I never noticed things like this before. Someone can explain it to me, and tell me what I am trying to say here.
(And yes, I have been struggling with French Verbs all day, and am reverting to Y'all for the remainder of the night.)
Now, as promised, two more Night Gardens...I am so loving seeing these, and if you are thinking about doing one, remember, no right or wrong. No good and bad. Here you will get only love and support for whatever art you are doing. The important thing is to DO it. And then go and do it again. If it is your heart, how can it be less than beautiful? (hey if I can wax philosophical about sunflowers, you can go out on a limb too!)
Love and Art...
The first time you left I fell down on the driveway and cried
The second time you left I fell down on the bed and died
The third time you left I (already being undead you see) hurt somewhat less
The fourth time you left I yelled and screamed and tried not to obsess
The fifth time you left I had my gift and had to make good
The sixth time you left I finally understood
You don't love me
Time to go
I plant sunflowers to remind me of life in the sun
Who will enjoy them now
Just as others enjoyed you when I thought I was alive
So many others
I hear that there are cactus in the desert that look dead during the day but bloom at night
Big beautiful full white luscious Queen of the Night flowers
I think I will move to the desert
And let the others have my sunflowers
And from Val...
Once, the night desert was nearly our death.
Sand ran in sheets of sharp water down our
dry skin; flooded through my clothes and parched mouth.
Adan cursed me. Hot wind whipped my mare's black
hair, and her bridle sang, as Bilal prayed.
His muezzin's call now: God, give us water.
It was two days since we last drank water.
Two days off our path. I wondered when death
would come to claim us. Perhaps if we prayed
devoutly, Bilal said, we would find our
way to a riyadh. But in a storm's black
night, all prayer is only sounds in a mouth.
Giving up on God, I covered my mouth,
the better to keep my hot breath's water.
Adan fell deeply into a cold black
mood, muttering how he might bring me death.
We had long since passed any hunger; our
swift end a fate for which I now half-prayed.
Through the wind, I saw a dark wall, and prayed.
A sharp shout burst from Adan's cracking mouth,
and he scaled the smooth walls using our
backs. His voice was sweeter than fresh water,
then silent. Had he been found by his death?
I lifted Balil, a shadow in black.
From inside the walled garden's leaves, all black
I heard Balil, who -- of course! -- knelt and prayed,
giving thanks for God's mercy, staying death;
while Adan's curses flowed, a river's mouth
of profane praise for the fountain's water.
Hands raw, I climbed in the garden of our
shaken faith and doubt, where at last all our
hungers were sated. But seeing the black
desert outside -- with no hope, no water --
how many others were exhausted, prayed
out? The water dried to dust in my mouth.
I saddled my mare and rode to race death,
to tell the lost of water and of our
lives spared from death, in a black night's garden.
Come, I prayed, my mouth dry; find what you seek.