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Chance Encounters
visual stories of happenstance
Image from a Sculpture I built… to burn. Summer 2020


Evoked by nature

Photo by Carolyn Riker

I love
the unexpected beauty
of an umbrella of blooms

overhead
next to me
close to me
I become
their elegance

fully natural
shameless
truer to self

those blushing hues
welcome
a personal dance

with warm branches
reaching
reaching almost seamlessly

into an escapade
not holding back
just being real

with buds bursting
their juicy ripeness
beholden by an inner fire

letting go
setting free
my deepest desires

Here are two more poems that I hope you enjoy. The first is a playful one written at the beginning of Spring. The second one is a midsummer poem from last year…


A Poem

Taken by Niki Madore of the Workshop

I keep tokens of happenstance,
in a drawer of lost but found.
It spans the course of my life.

I've got bottles of sand from places
I have been and from places, I have yet to see.
A box of broken metal things waiting for inspiration
to come and give them life.

There are painted whirlybirds,
who haven't found their purpose yet
and a random box of fake fronds
who may never be used.

I have photographs left in a library book,
and artwork left in a newspaper with
a phone number I regret never calling. …


My poetry is dedicated to this magnificent place!

Photo Credit: AK (Aaska Aejaz), Hannah Lake

Sitting on an edge of the lake
A Poetry comes to my mind,
In these happy flowing waves,
There is something as bright as a galaxy,
My loneliness calls you again,
The memory of you enters my heart again
The moment of living in this deep lake,
That infinite-depth mixes in my thoughts,
Suddenly, a shadow appears in front of me
An intense pain spreads in my veins,
Exactly the same-day is like yesterday,
Just as my life stops here.
I don’t know, what is this habit of living? …


roads horizons love unknown

“Sweet Home Whisper” — color drawing by Mary Corbin

Evalee:

Ten days. That was how long Jimmy said it would take us to drive from New York to San Francisco. Comfortably.

I don’t want to drive more than five hours a day if I don’t have to, he’d said to me as we finalized our plan. I usually go along with whatever he says. It’s just easier that way. And what did I care how many days it would take us to get there? I’d been counting down days for the past two years, seventy-three days and eleven hours.

Now? We were driving towards a new life, one I…


POETRY

A Poem

Photo by author, taken with Nikon D800 during a lunar eclipse

You held my hands and
I held the world in my hands
You gave me a warm bed
upon which to safely fall

Your rapid beating chest
upon which to lay my head was
a sanctuary to savor your breath
to feel life rise from your depths
Your tenderness warmed the air
each exhale coaxed my timidity
sheltering and encompassing me
your rise and fall encircling me
into the midst of your sanctum
kept well within your arms
where no pain and no harm
could ever reach me again

I breathed in your life the pure air of ascent to…


a story of coincidences

How I came to build Firetrucks is by far my favorite story to tell and I hope you can see the magic within it. A journey of self-discovery and the sheer idea of fate.

Permissions Granted by Photographer Ian A. McCord on Flickr https://flic.kr/p/zfGVzn

The above image is of the actual Ottawa Mobile Command Center. While I did not build this particular firetruck, I did facilitate fixing it, which is how I came to work in the industry and that is this story.

I was working at an RV business after university. I was falling back on familiar skills when I graduated with a degree that was ultimately useless. Do…


a connection between me and nature

My eyes were closed, But my senses were awakened, I was not wearing headphones, but I could listen to the music of blows, collided noises of flurries to the mountains, the chirping of birds, little pieces of soil were slipping beneath my feet, I was alone, deep, emotional, I felt my tiny drop of salty tear was falling down to my edge of the eye, my lips were not moving, But I was conversing…I was not sleeping, but I didn’t want to awake, at least not that moment, I could imagine, Wake up was not real life…


Hidden Gems

My shortcut into the city: Old Cork: Photo by Sylvia Wohlfarth

My eyes slip into crevices and slither along cracks
straying amongst the feet of the crowd
running aground on some quirky piecework
or down some less travelled alleyway
along an abandoned wall showcasing urban jungle art
attuning to the dark, the wildness of nonconformity
the beauty of creativity, the bright, the colourful, the witty
the sober talent of the strange and creative mind
the wish to expose both self and reality
mavericks of the underground, estranged and entwined.

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