Like Crumbling Spires

Like crumbling spires thus bleed for thee,
Stone-faced moments filled with passion,
Skyward reach, these souls are now free,
Delicate hearts tendered ashen...

Days filled with mortised memories,
Facades artistically hiding...
Crack strewn hearts tender as the breeze,
Life's lost friends held in time biding.

Yet hope casts the dawn's rays of light,
Doors open welcoming the day,
For spaces restored from one's plight,
Shimmering with love show the way.

Like crumbling spires thus bleed for thee,
In my heart always, friends were we.

Petrina Lesko
July 2011


For this week's 'almost' final Sunday photographer interview over at One Stop Poetry, they have introduced us to Neil Alexander. 

Photographer Neil Alexander is a lifestyle and travel photographer as skilled at capturing the essence of people, as well as the landscapes they walk.

Convergance



'Converging' by Adam Romanowicz

my droplets in time

converge to center moments

forever within

Petrina Lesko

June 2011

Today over at One Stop Poetry  and 1SS they have interview a fabulous abstract photographer...

'Adam Romanowicz is an avid pursuer of the artistic and the abstract. An engineer in “the real world,” Romanowicz’s passion for composition and the outdoors has led him to an adventurous life of fine art, as well as editorial and commercial stock photography. His website, 3scape is an award-winning institution show-casing his fine art work. His published credits run the gamut, from CD covers and store displays to the Oxford Dictionary for the Middle Ages.'



Please join in the fun writing that has been transcended from his wonderful photography.

Whispering Ways


Once again, it is time to share the treasures found over at Magpie Tales, a blogging meme offered by Tess Kincaid.  There, each week, she posts a wonderful picture, sparking the muse of many, to share in the inspirational thoughts of those who join in.

Magpie #69

 















To touch, trace with gentle fingertips,
It is then that ye shall feel the ebb of days,
Woven within the flow, carved as dips,
Mounds guiding curves, the battle of my ways.

Mapped for futures told, thunderous crashing,
Tide-ripped currents, held within the whisper,
Ears listening to tales I've told, thrashing,
Yet a solstice of nights, cold and crisper.

Forever, my lines shall hold my form tight,
Cradled on the shores for those who shall seek,
Glisten against the sunlit sands in plight,
Bound by memories, silted in hearts meek.

Your treasure...crushed and tumbled, only still,
Into pathways of your inner sanctums,
Held like sun-bleached martyrs upon the sill,
Precious memories... whispered by the humms.

Still, shared within my whispering ways,
Secrets tossed upon the shore, thus you find,
Strewn across the sands on the darkest days,
It is there that you seek shells of my kind.

Petrina Lesko
June 2011

The Bell Sounds...



'They Never Call...' by Rob Hanson Photography



















Faintly... in the distant echoes of time,
Stretching far beyond the length of your lines,
Buried beneath the dusty layers climb,
And the bell sounds... an urgency of kinds...


Calling forth, the lost numbers unwritten,
Pane-staking images, hues dimmed yet all,
Combine beneath the years, once yet bitten,
Diagrammed plans, changing hearts, here the call...


Changing times post beyond the doorway now,
Documented dreams bear forth the future,
For deep within, beating it's heart lies how,
Master-crafted as the bootman's suture...


Faintly... in the distant echoes of time,
Now the bell sounds... an urgency of rhyme.


Petrina Lesko
June 2011

In what now seems a distant time long ago, there lied lines, plans of a new picture for me... calling, if you will, with an urgency.  The bell sounded, alerting me to new beginnings... From those beginnings (of a year ago) came my adventure through blogland.  Looking beyond the dusty shelves, searching the photos posted, the words translated through new creativites and familiar rhymes... the call stretched through the lines transmitting new energies, new outlets, ultimately bringing me to this point.  It is with great joy that I reach my first blogoversary, renewed in my creative energies, hoping to carry my message beyond all known possibilities, as did the first telephone call placed by A. G. Bell.  (What would he be thinking now of the wireless generation of communcations?)

As the bell sounds today, I send the message of a very special  THANK YOU  to everyone here in blogland who has taken the time to stop by and listen to my message.  Thank you for all of the encouragement and guidance over the past year.  It has been a fabulously exciting journey.

Also linking this post over to One Stop Poetry and this weeks 1SS photography interview (part 2) with Rob Hanson and his amazing photography.

Smoldering Hesitations

Over at Jingle Poetry  the theme this week for Monday's Poetry Potluck  is "Doubts, Fears, Inhibitions and Hesitations"...   These doubts and fears that have formed from our past experiences seem to smolder in the distance, always there, waiting to spark the wildfire to desimate all that is within its grasp.  I was working on my piece for this week's Potluck when I came across this fabulous prompt by Tess over at Magpie Tales.  I couldn't help but grasp it and combine for both prompts.




Smoldering Fires, Clarence Holbrook Carter, 1904-2000
Columbus Museum of Art
as shared at Magpie Tales #64



Like Whispers Upon Ears


Today... you walked a while with me,

Like old friends joined, together share,

I knew your steps as you knew mine,

Stepping along the path to see,

Hand in hand, alas we could dare.

The path familiar, took a turn,

For a moment we paused to look,

Stay on the path, follow the sign,

Eager to explore, more to learn,

In the distance, I heard the brook.

Desires to try within me burn,

Like wildfires in the distance know,

Come, let's go back, we will dine,

The water flows free 'on the turn,

Caressing the rocks just for show.

As the flow dropped, falling right there,

I longed to go forth, journey more,

Step forth, be you lost in the pine,
Darkness comes all too soon to dare,
For in the night, where is the shore.

Explorations curbed, this will be,

Moments unsure instilled my friend,

Like whispers upon ears of mine,

Words carry forth your doubts for me,

Deterring strength for journey's end.

Hand in hand, alas we could dare,
Stepping along the path to see,
I knew your steps as you knew mine,
Like old friends joined, together share,
Today... you walked a while with me.

Petrina Lesko
May 2011

Ancestral Images



Mag 61

Ancestral images transmute once swirled,
Like acid-washed remnants of aged-long rhyme,

Memories etched in some other lifetime,

Fragmented pieces, a different world.

Taste of this glass, flavoring years be twirled,
Thoughts dark night, unclear... living crumbled time,
Ancestral images will be unfurled,
Like acid-washed remnants of aged-long rhyme.

Sipping sensations, altered thoughts are whirled,
Life's lost hearts of family's broken climb,
Day's forgotten moments given to crime,
The mind's lost illness, less packaged and pearled.
Ancestral images transmute once swirled.

Petrina Lesko
April 2011

Another challenging Magpie Tales prompt, as offered weekly by the wonderful Tess Kincaid.  Thank you Tess, for inspiring deep thoughts with such provocative images.  Please come join us for a fabulous share.

Creativity Lingers



photo by Lauren Randolph
as offered @ One Stop Poetry

Sunday Photography Interview

Reality's fenceposts holding strong,

Creativity lingers, drifting...

Images held a part, can this be?

Mind's matter questions, could this be wrong?

Moments in time planted like stakes,

Life whitewashed for all those who see,

Words rise from the depths of beings,

Deflated lives fell within time.

Creativity lingers, drifting...

Realitiy's fenceposts holding strong.

Petrina Lesko

April 2011

This, my entry for One Stop Poetry's photography interview of Lauren Randolph this week, a puzzling prompt of opposites.  Stirring far-fetched worlds, and reminders of how topsy turvy life can really be at times.  Hope you all enjoyed my take.  Stop by there to share your take and explore more about Lauren Randolph's wonderful photography.

Yet She Wields... and a Special Thank You

It never ceases to amaze me at how "fitting" the week's photo prompt is when I pop over to Magpie Tales hosted by Willow.  Her photography, always rich and deep, endless meanings available...

photo prompt #58 for Magpie Tales


Yet She Wields...

Days of ill ease, souls shielded by the past,
Lessons taught, swords cultivated the fields,
Cote-armours well-placed to protect and last,
All this unseen by the world, yet she wields...

Side by side, sharing efforts in this life,
Guiding those wandering souls to the shore,
Days of gentle hearts for to see through strife,
Yet she wields the armour well-placed before.

Coated souls, leading others o'er hills vast,
Trodden days, lessons exerted, hopes yield,
Journeys taken by sails raised upon mast,
Cote-armours well-placed before, now are peeled.

Earnest endeavors, transformed from the rife,
Innocent souls yearning to learn, want more,
Hands held long, gentle hearts helping through life,
Lending the way, opportunities door.

Days of ill ease, souls shielded by the past,
Lessons taught, swords cultivated the fields,
Cote-armours well-placed to protect and last,
All this unseen by the world, yet she wields...

Petrina Lesko
March 2011

I am, of course, linking this post over at Magpie Tales for this prompt #58 (a truly inspirational photo).  To see others' takes on this prompt, click here.
 
A special thank you to those who nominated me...
 
I would also like to take this opportunity to say a special thank you to Jingle, Cloaked Monk, Verse in a Nutshell, Lolamouse and louisedouglas for their nomination for the Versatile Blogger Award.  I am truly honored that you all would nominate me for this award, however, I feel at this time that my Blog needs to remain an Award Free location.    Again, thank you for the nominations.

The Black Royal

The hidden 'trash', the worn out trinkets,
Resting, waiting for us to find them...
Worn out toys, prizes cherished, days forth,
Just beyond the dumpsters, fenced apart.

Bushes keeping them apart from,
The vast space of the yard, darkened,

Lying in the dust of the earth,

Waiting for eager eyes to find them.

These were the relics of our youth,

Left, 'trash' separated for us,

The curtain pulled slightly, eyes watch,
As we discover things special.

Things gifted to youth, ours alone,
Until that darkened day of light,
The ultimate find, Black Royal,
Hidden freedom of stories.

Resting, waiting, the Black Royal,
Hidden between fence and bush,
Holding secrets that only we,
Could key down on it's pages then.

The curtain pulled slightly, eyes watch,
The broadened smile across her face,
She nods from the window, knowing,
As we discover things special.

Petrina Lesko
February 2011



photo by JackAZ



This poem was inspired by this photo prompt over at One Stop Poetry and their Sunday Photography Interview.  This week is part 2 with JackAZ, you can find more of his photography here.

Night's Rain - Updated

photo by Sean McCormick
as shared @ One Shoot Sunday

Night's Rain

I welcome you in from the night's rain,
Unto my floors do come, where lies grain,
Stacked about, turned out layered by stain,
Please, I welcome you in from the night's rain.

Built on staddle stones, shaped like mushrooms,
Heating naturally, this be thy rooms,
Forming moisture, your grain will be doom,
Forth right here within, I will it entomb.

But listen to my music, dance all,
Lineage comes from under the wall,
Shadows dancing, did you hear 'em call,
Lineage comes, on the floor must crawl.

I welcome you in from the night's rain,
Unto my floors do come, where lies grain,
Stacked about, turned out, covered thy stain,
Please, I welcome you in from the night's rain.

Petrina Lesko
February 2011

Thank you Sean for a fantastic photo (you can see more of his fabulous work @ http://www.neutralhillsstills.ca/index.php).   And thank you One Stop Poetry for another inspirational photo prompt here at One Shoot Sunday.

The Black Leather Gloves



photo prompt for Magpie #46

 As she came down the stairs, her hand gliding across the smoothness of the banister, the gloves there on the wooden phone table, she let her thoughts flow freely recalling the midnight sky of last night.  Standing on the pier, waiting for him, the night air was brisk and as she slipped the leather gloves over the long slender fingers, snowflakes dancing in the night, one landing on the back of her hand, twinkling against the black leather like the stars in the darkness of the midnight sky.  Then she felt his hand as he tenderly touched her neck, brushing the hair aside, then kissing her neck as he engulfed her in his strong arms.  They stood there together, watching the snowflakes dance down to the water, as if landing in the spotlight of the stage.  She could feel the warmth of his embrace in the night air, the scent of him filled her mind with thoughts of the lingering night.  The walk along the pier, him on bended knee, asking..... 

She couldn't wait for this day to end, to see him, be in his arms again, even though she was only on her way down the stairs for her morning cup of tea.

Petrina Lesko
December 2010

I am linking this post to Magpie Tales as it was inspired by this weeks photo prompt, #46.  Hope you enjoyed this short tale.  To read others inspired by this prompt, stop by Magpie Tales to share those written by others.

A Child's First Call to Serve

 I've sat here pondering this picture, this weeks prompt over at Magpie Tales hosted by Willow.  Then I read over a few of the other takes, and again sat here pondering this picture.  Throughout this time, my thoughts kept running back to a cold winter's night long ago, a white blanket covering the roads, icicles dangling from the evergreen trees.  As I was about to enter the church for a Christmas Eve service late in the evening, I glanced to the sky as the flakes again began to fall.  There, up high, the stained glass window, very similar to this, caught my attention as the streetlight rays bounced off of the babe, sending a ray to the ground in front of where I stood.  And then as I entered the building, the pastor called me to his office, he had a request of me....

A Child's First Call to Serve

I sat quietly nervous, wondering why,
This night of all nights, the Eve of your birth,
Be it that he would ask of me to help, why,

picture prompt #45 for Magpie Tales

What did he know of my time here on earth?

How could he know it was my time to serve You,

My knees bounced, tapping nerves, reading a psalm,

Welling up in my heart, eyes filled with tears too,
How many people,  my heart was still calm.

Then I looked to the colored glass up so high,
Words left my heart remembering The child,
And through my prayers, was You who called me nigh,
The tale we shared, one so tender and mild.

The world's gift, a child born to a man and his wife,
On this night, this the CELEBRATION of Your life.

Petrina Lesko
December 2010

Obviously, it turned into a very special night, one that I shall carry with me always.  Thanks Covell (he was the pastor with the request of this young child).  I believe I had just turned twelve earlier that month... and I believe there were over 150 in attendance.

Open Roads Travelled


This picture* was taken from One Shoot Sunday this week.  Inspirational thoughts of 'Open Roads' and new beginnings.  Hope you enjoy my take on this prompt.

Feininger, Andreas:  1906-1999, photographer



Open Roads Travelled

Do these roads truly exist anymore?

Long winding roads through open lands,

Wondering to ourselves, what will it have in store,

These open roads travelled, holding the steering wheel in hands.

Do these roads truly exist anywhere?

Cities come closer together as we gather,

Structures dotting the streets, where trees used to care,

These open roads travelled, this soul would surely take to, rather.

Do these roads truly exist anymore?

Leisurely drives reaching for Sunday breezes,

Searching the countryside, outside the house,  the door,

These open roads travelled, memories strong, oh, yes, just teases.

Structures dotting the streets, where trees used to care,

These open roads travelled, longing of days to find, if you dare.

Petrina Lesko
December 2010

*Image via Creative Commons—

The Library of Congress photostream.http://www.flickr.com/photos/library_of_congress/2179126159/