"Place, with a trace of humanity" Photography/Photo of the Day/Pittsburgh

Posts tagged “poetry

By Their Sidewalks You Will Know Them – Guest Poet Timons Esaias- Originally Posted 2-19-2010

First posted in February 2010 and again in 2013.  Thanks Timons Esaias Guest Poet

Sidewalk Shoveled

Tim’s Poem Came to Mind as I Admired the Concrete First Time in Two Weeks – Photographed Feb 2010

By Their Sidewalks You Will Know Them

Originally there were eleven Commandments

Moses, perhaps confused by the unfamiliar

snow, ice, and sidewalk,

botched one, and left it out.

But Buddha said that though Life is Pain,

falling on ice is gratuitous pain

and those who cause it, by neglect,

should never escape the Wheel of Rebirth;

and Lao-Tzu agreed, for those who will not

clear the path will never find the Way.

Zoroaster, in the endless war of light

against ice, demanded diligence;

claimed that those who surrender

the public way to the Enemy

have empty souls,

can scarcely be regarded as human.

The Prophet, regarding sidewalks and snow,

is silent; but his sura

Sand Drifting Against the Caravanserai Gate

is thought to apply. The condemnation there

is brutal and eternal.

Plato counted safe sidewalks as fundamental

to the ideal Republic, noting that those remiss

in this clear duty lacked all character;

and his pupil – perceptive, immortal Aristotle-

further declared, famously, that

lack of character

is destiny.

-Timons Esaias
Timons Esaias is a writer and poet living in Pittsburgh. His short stories, ranging from literary to genre, have been published in fourteen languages. He has had over a hundred poems in print, including Spanish, Swedish and Chinese translations, in such markets as 5AM, Bathtub Gin, Main Street Rag, Willard & Maple, Elysian Fields Quarterly: The Literary Journal of Baseball and many others. He has also been a finalist for the British Science Fiction Award, and won the Asimov’s Readers Award. His poetry chapbook, The Influence of Pigeons on Architecture, sold out two editions. He is Adjunct Faculty at Seton Hill University, in the Writing Popular Fiction M.F.A. Program. This poem was originally published in hotmetalpoets.com when it existed.
This entry was posted on February 19, 2010. It was filed under poetry, Things in the Snow and was tagged with city scene, HIghland Park, photo of the day, photography, Pittsburgh, Poem, poet, poetry, shovel, sidewalk, snow, Timons Esaias, urban scene, winter scene.

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16 responses

Bill
Too deep for me.

February 19, 2010 at 7:07 am Edit
Reply

Toni Kichi
Makes me happy that our sidewalks are clear and clean – thanks to Mike!! I couldn’t handle all those punishments! Seems like an almost normal day today!! Thanks for starting it with something special!!! Did Bill mean the snow was too deep – or the poem??!! Either way, I agree! My mind is mush (like this snow will soon be) — been in the house too long!!!

February 19, 2010 at 8:42 am Edit
Reply

Dorothy
All tis is great Ruth. It is like your photos and words are a diary of living through these snowy days.
Dorothy

February 19, 2010 at 9:12 am Edit
Reply

erica
Too wonderful for … words?? :-) Changes my attitude on shoveling, altho I am already somewhat aware that I smile and feel satisfaction when I get to the concrete! A bit anxious now, tho, about the snow still on the bushes, bending branches low over the sidewalk leading to my caravanserai gate ……! :-)

February 19, 2010 at 9:52 am Edit
Reply

Arlene Weiner
There is a special place in hell
where, frozen in ice, only his rear
exposed to Satan’s teeth, he’ll dwell
whose sidewalk’s untouched while his driveway’s clear.

February 19, 2010 at 10:50 am Edit
Reply

joseph k
that is one great photo
joseph

February 19, 2010 at 4:27 pm Edit
Reply

Bonnie Imhoff
I know the snow is a pain, but it is beautiful. I enjoy the pic very much.


Scottish Bard’s 256th Birthday Anniversary – Just before sunset in the snow

Steve said it was Robbie Burns birthday today.  Born January 25, 1759.

We missed the fancy fundraiser for the museum last week, the Haggis and men decked out in kilts of their clan.

We missed the “not your grandfather’s ” Robert Burns birthday party in Lawrenceville and the one on the South Side with all kinds of scotch at Piper’s pub.

But we got to pay homage to the Scottish poet, just before dusk.  The end of a January gloomy Sunday.

We headed out to Schenley Park to the Robert Burns statue (by Scottish sculptor J. Massey Rhind)  and it started to snow.

Burns statue with snow front

Right next to Phipps Conservatory.

Burns statue with snow

Burns statue with plow

Burns Pedestal

Mrs. Peacock sounds like a game of clue but here is  a snippet of the article in the Mary 3, 1914 Post-Gazette.

Screen Shot 2015-01-25 at 10.48.20 PM

For a list of Robert Burns memorials around the world, click here

Quotes

“The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men,
Gang aft agley.
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

(To A Mouse)”
― Robert Burns, The Works of Robert Burns

                                                                                          My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;

                                                                                          My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;

                                                                                          A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,

                                                                                          My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go.” 

                                                                                                                                  ― Robert Burns

from Tam o’Shanter

But pleasures are like poppies spread—

You seize the flow’r, its bloom is shed;

Or like the snow falls in the river—

A moment white—then melts forever.
Line 59

“And man, whose heav’n-erected face
The smiles of love adorn
Man’s inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn!”
― Robert Burns


Weekly Photo Challenge: Serenity

Serenity (noun): The state of being calm, peaceful, and untroubled.   Allegheny River

knitting (1)


Vincent, Euthemia, Dorothy, Liane and Montclair Came to Mind Today

iris blooming

October 29th,  Wednesday Afternoon

Funny how the unexpected sight of something triggers a stream of consciousness.

The word Iris, the sight of these Iris blooming made me think of many things.

In Highland Park after school today, while waiting for a poet to arrive to shoot the author photo for her new book cover,

I saw these Iris.

I always think of Iris as the“end of the school year” flower but now I see they bloom in late October, too.

Vincent Van Gogh painted them.

Euthemia is always planting, growing, showing and readying Iris for her Capital Hudson Iris Society show and sale

Liane Ellison Norman wrote a poem, ” I Dug Up the Iris”  about our friend Dorothy’s Iris.

When I was young, we lived in Montclair New Jersey and walked in the Presby Memorial Iris Gardens named after the founder of the American Iris Society.

Iris.

So many memories triggered by the sight of their blooming today.

October Iris


We Had to Memorize High Flight with Mrs. Stewart in the Sixth Grade

Pilot John Gillespie Magee, Jr. wrote this sonnet three months before he was killed at age 19, when his Spitfire collided with another plane on 11 December 1941.

Today when I was flying home from Panama City Florida to Pittsburgh Pennsylvania (via Baltimore), I remembered we had to memorize and recite this poem in Mrs. Stewart’s Sixth Grade at Morris Plains Borough School 1963.

True, I wasn’t the pilot but man’s ability to fly  is astounding to me.

 

High Flight

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds — and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there,

I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

 

clouds

First image shot with iPhone   The rest shot with a  Canon 50D

clouds 2

clouds

It was a great day to fly.

airplane flight2

airplane flight

Above the fruited plain……..


While Waiting for Wedding Cookies Post #2

To the bakers of the wedding cookies  for Vicci and Ben  

‘Twas Three Days Before the Wedding

 

While aunties and cousins are baking all day,

Kennywood’s open- people scream while at play

 

Upstreet the neighbors, childhood friends, drop in to chat.

They help eat misshapen rejects, reminisce and laugh.

 

Praline grahams, oatmeal raisin, and chocolate chip

Coconut macaroons all lovingly dipped.

 

Nut horns, peanut blossoms, dough rolled out, shaped and cut.

Almond, vanilla, sticks of butter, chopped nuts.

 

Ladylocks, pinwheels, and sugar cookies in a heart,

snowballs , biscotti and pecan tassie tarts.

 

Cookie tables laden, all homemade sweet treats

Pittsburgh baking traditions cannot be beat.

 

(Marlene is gathering the photos of Wednesday’s Cookie Baking from various members of the family.  Stay tuned)

 

Taken after I left the cookie bakers on Monday evening

 

steel phantom2

 

 

 

steel phantom

 


..the pleasantest thing ever a child can do!

The Swing

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside–

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown–
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!
Robert Louis Stevenson

 

Maura on the swing

Maura at 5 1/2 finally learns to pump

 

It wasn’t that long ago  (201o) that it was her sister Anna on the blog 


Street Life 2

The Weekly Photo Challenge: Street Life   part two  Found these in my old laptop. Different city streets-

 From the archives 

pittsburgh poetry

Waiting for the Bus East Liberty

Waiting for the Bus East Liberty

Taxis and Yellow Tables NYC

Taxis and Yellow Tables NYC

Pizza Men New York City

Pizza Men New York City

Someone's Wedding on Roberto Clemente Bridge

Someone’s Wedding on Roberto Clemente Bridge

Pirates Sidewalk bridge

Headed to Summer Pirates Game

Headed to Summer Pirates Game

Couch on Sidewalk NYC

Couch on Sidewalk NYC

Short North Beer Truck Columbus

Short North Beer Truck Columbus

New York City

New York City

Poetry in Bloomfield

Poetry in Bloomfield

Pirates Sidewalk

Pirates Sidewalk

Bus Stop Millvale

Bus Stop Millvale

High Street Columbus Ohio

High Street Columbus Ohio

Garbage Men on Josephine St

Garbage Men on Josephine St


Weekly Photo Challenge: Beginning

The example posted by Cheri Lucas Rowlands was a Northern California foggy dawn.

A sunrise – a perfect beginning.

A baby, just born.

The first page of the dictionary.

The first page of the new calendar.

Once you start, more come to mind.

Beginning= possibility?  A new start.

I did not search the archives for beginnings but put the iPhone to use at breakfast-

My Saturday morning.

Here’s the beginning –

Coffee and English Muffin

The special English muffins a surprise in the Christmas mail from Ben and Susan, thanks

A New Page

A newly sharpened pencil ready to begin……

a journal entry, a letter, a poem, a novel, a list-

A single match

Begin with a single match…………..

Middle CMiddle C- “Let’s start at the very beginning. A very good place to start….” “When you sing you begin with Do Re Mi”

Yarn BowlThe beginning of a ball of yarn in my new yarn bowl :-)


My Conversation With God – Guest Blog

 

My conversation with God 7/13/13

I don’t want to talk about the Treyvon Benjamin Martin story

Because it’s been told before        because I know how it ends

black boy      dead boy        no boy wins.

And you,

you were supposed to be watching

keeping him from harm.

His mother prayed and prayed    and

you said you would       she believed

you could

he was the one in the hood

and you just didn’t.

Maybe you looked away for a second

got distracted,

heard thousands calling your name

so much you couldn’t hear him

couldn’t decipher it from the voices

the noises,

maybe you confused it with a cheer

when the field goal was good,

or a hymn        that was really loud

maybe you didn’t like what he had to say

all young and un-educated like.

but really,

how long would it have taken,

how long did it take

for you to call

for him to leave,

join you,

be rewarded

such a short time

in your care.

Was it just too dark that night?  Was he just too dark that night?

They say he looked like all the others, “all the other punks that get away”.

 

 — a poem by Cj Coleman

Cj teaches in the Pittsburgh Public Schools, is a Western Pennsylvania Writing Project Fellow (U of Pittsburgh) and a member of Madwomen in the Attic (Carlow University)

Cj emailed me this poem and I found this photograph in my archives to accompany her words.

Hoodie Day March 30, 2012

 Hoodie Day March 30, 2012                 Pittsburgh Public Schools


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