Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Lost some place between poetry, love and bar stools ....

A couple of days ago, I mentioned the "Sanctuary/Refuge" that once was mine but no longer is. This view of the countryside was taken from the deck of the house. My photography is for illustrative purposes and not designed to be "pretty," so please don't grade it.

Speaking of photography, and poets, too ....

Of the three best friends I have had in my life, one is a professional photographer. He does take graduation photos and wedding photos, but he derives a large portion of his income from selling photos to publications. He doesn't travel far and wide to take his photos, either. His range generally is about 200 miles from his home. He asks what I consider to be a ridiculous amount of money for his "snapshots" and, more often than not, he gets it.

Applying that concept to the "world of blogs," I see several photographers who have followers, but rarely see many (if any) followers associated with the bloggers who are offering poetry.

The difference between being an "average" photographer and a "good" photographer is, in my opinion, a short leap and mostly a technological leap, ranging from cameras and lens to darkrooms and computers. Sure, a good eye is required, but basically a bit of practice and quality gear can turn most people into excellent photographers.

The same is not true for a poet. Everything that has anything to do with being a poet comes from inside the person. Technology has nothing to do with it. This is why poets, so often the unappreciated and the unpaid, should be among the people who are appreciated (and, perhaps, valued) the most, I think.

This is not to detract from photography. Rather, it is to suggest we all might benefit from reading more poetry, thinking about those written words created from the depths of human psyche, and applauding the people who create them.

Friends & lovers, outside of marriage ....

I think it was Ernest Hemingway who said (or wrote) words to the effect that a man and a woman could not be friends without becoming lovers, as well. In high school, I was a Hemingway worshipper but, in expressing that notion, I believe old Ernie clearly was incorrect. (By the time I was in the midst of college, incidentally, I was discovering there were better novelists than he.)

Of the three best friends I mentioned earlier, one was a woman. Our friendship began in a typical way, as work mates, spending hours together most days. We came very close to becoming lovers on more than one occasion. It was something we discussed, also on more than one occasion. We agreed it might wreck our friendship if we became physically entangled as well as emotionally and spiritually so. We both were married to other people at the time, and part of our decision revolved around not wishing to risk hurting them.

We had great fun with our friendship. There were times we would start grappling with each other on bar stools (or another public setting) and then, abruptly, look up, look around, act startled, leap from the stools and run for the entrance. Outside, we would figuratively fall down laughing.

She is gone now. Cancer took her down and forever put her away. Sometimes, I think we made a mistake by not becoming lovers, too. Who is to say? I wonder how often all of us think we are doing the right thing and, unknowingly, we might be doing the wrong thing.

Music Note: Currently listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter ....
Specifically, "Come On Come On" ....
("Passionate Kisses" -- I'm retrospective tonight)

4 comments:

Piper .. said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Piper .. said...

whoa! this brings back lots of past memories.

"I wonder how often all of us think we are doing the right thing and, unknowingly, we might be doing the wrong thing."

There was this one guy amongst others, who I still think of, every now and then. Looking back, I know that the moments I shared with him, were actually the happiest ever in my life, albeit pretty ephemeral. I didnt know it then, as I do now, that those fleeting moments of joy, meant nothing to him. Zilch. Nada. For a substantial part of my life, I brooded about the error in judgement. He tore my soul apart. Or so I thought.Years have passed by. And now I wonder, given the horror of what I went through because of him, if it was a mistake really? And I realize(gasp!) that inspite of the aftermath, the moments I shared with him continue to remain the happiest ones of my life..
A very touching post Fram! You`ve managed to touch a few sore chords!
P.S- Sorry about the insensitive way I posted the previous comment with the link, without reading the post first. I`m removing it forthwith!

Fram said...

Thanks for the visit and the comment, Piper.

Part of my psychology is frequently wondering where I would be and what I would be doing had I turned left (in a manner of speaking) instead of turning right or continuing on straight down the road at various intersections of my life. For example, there have been occasions when I have had the choice between two or three jobs at the same time. Part of it is curiosity, part of it is simply wanting to know and to experience.

Natalie said...

Speaking of photography, and poets, too…
“I should like to stand next to it (Fram) for an hour or two, and listen to it whisper its story to me…” – thoughts could be unforgettably beautiful, rhyming make it exquisite…
Being a poet is like being RhD negative – you don’t ask for it, it is something you were born with…
Thank you for your sincerity towards “the unappreciated and the unpaid…”
Nat

Something special ....