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Tuesday, September 23, 2014

"Leftover Dreams" and "There's Nothing You Need To Do" poetry, art and photography



"Leftover Dreams" and "There's Nothing You Need To Do" are two little videos I made in the last few days.  I utilized a poster I had made of Bob Marley as the background in "Leftover Dreams." 



I started by looking through the pictures I had made in the month of September and August thinking I'd make something out of them. I had made the Marley poster slightly earlier possibly in June. 

I was surprised to find some of the pictures I did find. I had forgotten I had made them.  

The one below is titled "Jah" and is a derivative of the image in the previous poster.



As I was working on "Leftover Dreams" and talking to myself about what I could do to make my labor productive a poem came to me and then the video seemed to put itself together. I have two versions of the poem now. One of them is in the video.

The title "Leftover Dreams" came to me after I tried half a dozen titles. It was the key. As soon as I settled on the title the video took it's final shape.  

Waking in the night
I saw your face
at my window.

You were weaving draperies for my wall
on a loom made of moonlight
with threads made from memories
and shadows cast by falling leaves...
and things I've never seen before.

(there is an alternate second verse at this point and maybe more to come.)

You were weaving draperies for my wall
on a loom made of moonlight
with threads made from memories
and shadows cast by leaves falling
from trees I've planted ...
and things I've never seen before.

Enjoy the video:




Below is a second video, "There's Nothing You Need To Do".



Enjoy the video.




Art, photography and poetry by David H. Roche
(C) 2014

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

In The Twinkling Of An Eye (illustrations inspired by the bible)


In The Twinkling Of An Eye: artwork inspired by 1 Corinthians 15.  

I generally begin with a simple picture and end up with something very different and hardly reminiscent of what I started with.

Approaching the task randomly with no clear idea or goal in mind allows the finished product to have a hand in producing itself. In some ways each change I make points to the next change I will make and in that way the image builds itself.



I like the way that works. At some point in the process the video is itself and it has a name.  That is usually toward the end of the putting together process. 

Sometimes names are hard to come up with.

  

This video developed from the image of an angel and went from there as I experimented making changes to it.


Thursday, September 04, 2014

The Passing Years: poetry by David H. Roche

I wrote a short poem, five lines in length. I titled it: "The Passing Years."  It's a contemplation of our common mortal condition and the means necessary to achieve morality. That's how it presented itself to me. That's what I wrote about.





Unexpected pain appears for no apparent reason. Along with it the recognition that this is what you thought it would be like seems to have proven itself right. 

Aging and pain until the end.  I was an optimistIt was the best of possible outcomes that were presenting themselves what with the Ukraine and the Mid East and all that. 

The only reasonable conclusion available in the present organizational framework of  human society is the prospect of greater profits by the activity of the military industrial complex.  This activity ultimately determines our present way of life. Along with that a more fearful response to life.  

Today after hearing "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" by the Beatles playing on a juke box and listening to the comments of those with me who remembered the song when it was new I wrote the poem below. I remembered when it was new too. I'm probably a reluctant optimist at this point.








               The passing years are leaves
                separated from our limbs
                      shaken free 
                          and scattered

                               by the wind.  
                                                                                             (C) David H. Roche


The photograph above was taken in Fleming New York by the author



                                        Photography by 
                David H. Roche (C) 2014



Wednesday, September 03, 2014

Save Me Uncle Sam I'm Afraid (poetry)

I wrote a poem today.  It is titled "Save Me Uncle Sam I'm Afraid"  It's about fear in the past and fear in the present.  I had in mind a poem titled "America" by the major poet Allen Ginsberg, a much better poet than myself. My poem is in the video below.




Friday, August 29, 2014

Seasons: (poetry video and photography)



Seasons

This evening blue skies and white clouds
are gradually replaced with misty gray gauze
that softly drapes itself over the nearby foothills
as the temperature falls.

It’s September and September is flirting with autumn
behaving like a wanton lover plucking leaves
and frivolously scattering them.

Tomorrow summer will return hot and humid
erasing the premonition of the howling bitch of winter
who approaches mercilessly
keeping herself hidden in the mist.























Poetry and photography by David H. Roche (C) 2014

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Nothing Lasts (poetry and art)

Last night I listened to what is perhaps the finest poem written in the 20th century "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg.  After listening to the poem I was inspired to write the poem below which I titled "Nothing Lasts."  I also made a reading of the poem and put it together with art and photography on YouTube. You can find that video below the body of the poem.




Nothing lasts


Love and lovers become ghosts,
families become memories becoming
merely tales repeated with no meaning to those who hear them told.

A hopeful future is unattainable...
the fate of all is in the hands of false Gods with names like
Bank of America, Wells Fargo and Citibank
whose sustenance is bankruptcies, repossessions and despair
leaving the hopeless and the homeless as proof of their presence.

They too will fail becoming a desolation covered with the slag piles
left behind from profits mined from a once green lush earth
whose skeleton is now the ultimate truth of this failed age
swallowing them as it swallows all.

Nothing lasts.  




Poetry and art by David H. Roche (C) 2014

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Turquoise (poetry)


Turquoise

In the pond ducks are splashing
splattering droplets suspended in air
sparkling briefly in sunlight before falling back.
A summer breeze moves over me.

In the sky above
a chicken hawk dips its wings
surfing turquoise waves,
below in another turquoise
a bull frog bellows.


.
Sirens in the distance approach,
growing louder before fading into another distance.
Highway noises cease,
replaced with eerie silence.

Between the turquoise boundaries 
everything but the traffic continues.
I wonder…who died on the highway today
under the pale blue sky
while the bull frog bellowed,
the ducks splashed,
the summer breeze blew
and the chicken hawk surfed on turquoise waves.


I put the poem into a video



A poem  and photography by David H. Roche
(C) 2014

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A practitioner of the art of living with the intent of learning how to die without fear.