The clouds are playing tug-o-war
The high tree limbs are keeping score
Too early to rise too late to snore
More horizontal horizon spotting in store.
The Scowl So-sigh-ety
meets way back in Angry Alley,
Deep in the heart of Distasteville
across Disgruntled Valley.
If you’ve never met them
I suggest you stay away,
unless, of course,
you love looking for clouds on sunny days.
If so, run to their next meeting,
frowning’s the sole entry fee,
So show a grumpy face, complain,
and join the Scowl So-Sigh-ety.
To see The Scowl So-Sigh-Ety as a #StellerStory, click the image below.
UPDATED 3-26-16: To read this poem as a STELLER STORY, click on the photo below.
Last year’s Easter egg hunt
was in the old cornfield.
Now it seems that day
not every egg was revealed
and that from those left back
are this year being born
acres and acres of stalks
sprouting tiny eggcorns.
Nature’s packaged each one
in a shell in a husk,
so cracking the eggcorns
is a rusty padlock fuss.
But once their outer layers
are opened up and clean
the cob yolks deep inside
are like nothing that you’ve seen:
Purple, pink, and yellow,
orange, blue, and jade,
all the prettiest pastels,
every springtime shade.
Just how nature made this magic
Science is still figuring,
but one thing learned so far:
is mighty omelets
from the tiny eggcorns spring.
There are almost no places
Where there are no faces
Even in the cases
Of in-between spaces
Like the Frowning-Big Tree
His acting has no range
Which isn’t so strange:
Bark expressions don’t change.
Or the Tractor-Wheel Elf
While his view always spins
That strong rubber chin
Won’t let sickness set in.
Perry is the given name
of Snowy-House Face.
While the world to summer always wants to race
He for hot weather forever must brace.
Yes, even while you
sit at work thinking
Take it from me
the Garden-Stone Grump
I may look like a rock-headed chump
But I’ve gathered perspective here from my rump:
Ungaze from the obvious, like Mr. Moon,
Don’t let on the foreground your focus last
And slowly at first but before long fast
Will appear all the faces you used to rush past.
NOTE: To see this poem with photos in the STELLER STORY format in which it originally appeared, click here.
If my footsteps,
(Fall crunch: over leaves)
Were able to talk,
(Winter crisp: on snow)
The sound of their words,
(Spring slosh: through puddles)
Would depend when I walk.
(Summer scratch: sandy toes)
Due to the boundaries of conventional photography, it’s necessary to see the Grand Canyon in person if you want to have any real sense of it. Even then, the limitations of the human eyeball and depth perception make it challenging to compute what exactly it is that’s before you. The scale. The structure. The origin story. They combine to form something like nothing else, and so by definition, laying eyes on it is a moment for which you cannot be prepared. Even as you’re looking at the Canyon, it’s hard to know where to direct your eyes first, next, or last. The result can be a sort of dizzying rush of astonishment and adrenaline.
As man made things go, the $1 Million Staircase — located in the New York State Capitol Building in Albany, NY — sent my head into similar spaces. Capturing a photograph that could successfully illustrate both the massiveness and nuance of the Stairs seemed impossible. In an effort to instead take a series of mental snapshots, every neck contortion and eye swivel I could muster felt insufficient. There was simply too much to the space, also referred to in Capitol parlance as The Great Western Staircase, to feel like I’d seen or digested it all. To try and add it up as I walked it was to be transported into a real-life composite of MC Escher artwork, someplace at once concrete and impossible.
The Staircase is a singular sight with a remarkable story ; for someone interested in art, architecture, or history, it’s an absolute must-see. And believe it or not, the tour is free ; not a bad deal for a look at something priceless that may just leave you speechless.
For a sneak peek and more on how the $1 Million Staircase came to be, read my Steller Story on it by clicking the photo below.
“It so happens that I understand David Bowie very well.
Far better than most people.”
For Jon Chalance’s #Steller take on a David Bowie classic, click the image above.