photography

Depending on Your Perspective

/ Janna Hill / 3 Comments

Saturday I posted a photo of an approaching storm with a caption ending in “y’all forgive me but I love a good storm” and it was a very good storm… or a very bad one depending on your perspective.

After posting that photo we journeyed to my son’s home in adjacent Van Zandt county for a fish-fry and enjoyed the show from the safety of his garage. As lightening danced and crackled over the oak trees we cracked jokes, reminisced and watched crispy fillets float to the surface in vats of boiling oil. We didn’t even mind the loss of electricity; it did not affect us — we were cooking with propane.

Little did we know only miles away lives and livelihoods were being destroyed. As we were laughing ourselves to tears, others wept in fear and sorrow.

We made our way back home [to a dark but undisturbed house] as the radio blasted warnings and tales of catastrophe; declaring several tornadoes had passed through the area(s). It turns out there were seven. Seven tornadoes.

I did not perceive the impact until power was restored several days later and I could get a visual.

It definitely causes one to reflect.

These photos were taken yesterday from [almost] the same position of the one Saturday. The same southern tree line is just above this view.

I still love a good storm but lord my heart does break for all those suffering a loss. I would appreciate it if you all would take a few seconds and send a positive thought or prayer their way.

Mull it Over Monday (A Poem & A Picture)

/ Janna Hill / Leave a comment

We are going to mIx iT uP this final week of NMP. Today (Monday) let’s take a look at Poet Dreaming by Loretta Diane Walker and mull it over.

Mull it. Ha! That sounds like a fish or a bad haircut.

Tsk!Tsk! Ignore the clown behind me and clear your mind.

poet dreaming A poem & A Picture

Poet Dreaming

By Loretta Diane Walker

(Originally found at Poetry Breakfast)

No sky could hold so much light.

—Mary Oliver

Poems are nomads paddling through darkness

collecting words from the arms

of Orion, Sagittarius, and Perseus

before camping in a poet’s dream.

She sees souls as colliding galaxies,

holes of light burning

with millions to trillions of stars

too bright to fit in the cavity of sky.

 

Those stars are poems

crammed in the dusty envelopes of mortal bodies,

shimmering beneath white ribbons of bone.

A silhouette of stars floats in the window of her eye.

The energy of need forces tiny hands to brush

against the small wings of a sigh hovering in the evening.

 

She hears the silhouette speak

in a voice the timbre of a piccolo,

“Look Mommy! I caught a butterfly.”

On the other side of her dream, she sees the light of joy,

and a moth beating its powdery gray life

in the basket of a child’s palms.

From In This House published by Blue Light Press.

Now let us ponder…

I was immediately captivated by the first line poems are nomads paddling through darkness. I could literally perceive souls as colliding galaxies and got lost in the poetry until I felt like Loretta Diane Walker pressed me [unwilling] into a mortal body and awakened me to the wonder of a child’s voice. I regret I do not have a better photograph to compliment the imagery of the poem. I even added stars among the fireworks in this picture but it does not suffice… Oh well. In short, Poet Dreaming was a relatable piece and by golly I liked it! As a matter of fact I heard a little bird say I will be getting a copy of In This House for Mother’s Day.

⇓

I wrote some poetry once Getting Me Back (The Voices Within)

Spring by Edna St. Vincent Millay (A Poem & A Picture)

/ Janna Hill / 2 Comments

 

SPRING FLOWERS A Poem & A Picture Spring

From Second April (Courtesy of everypoet.com Classic Archives)

SPRING

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

To what purpose, April, do you return again?

Beauty is not enough.

You can no longer quiet me with the redness

Of little leaves opening stickily.

I know what I know.

The sun is hot on my neck as I observe

The spikes of the crocus.

The smell of the earth is good.

It is apparent that there is no death.

But what does that signify?

Not only under ground are the brains of men

Eaten by maggots,

Life in itself

Is nothing,

An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.

It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,

April

Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

Don’t you love the last line(s)? They do strike a chord with me — maybe because I am just living out loud and flinging cake against the wall, right?!

Getting Me Back (The Voices Within) released this month and is now available in digital or paperback. AND to show my appreciation for your support there will be a gift of random books by ‘moi’ each weekend in April. Check in, check them out and follow my Author Page at Amazon for future updates.

P.S. A little history on Edna St. Vincent Millay: After her husband’s death from a stroke in 1949 following the removal of a lung, Millay suffered a great deal; she drank recklessly, and had to be hospitalized. A month later she was back at her farm (Steepletop) where she  passed a lonely year working on a new book of poems. She died in 1950 of a heart attack. For more about her works and life visit Poetry Foundation.

 

Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard by Thomas Gray (A Poem & A Picture)

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A Poem & A Picture Graveyard Poets

Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard is pretty lengthy so I am posting only the last of it titled The Epitaph. Check out The Poetry Foundation if you would like to read the poem in its’ entirety and read more about the Graveyard poet known as Thomas Gray. What is a Graveyard poet? Well it is not that red rooster in the photo, as far as I could tell he can’t even speak. It’s possible he was just ignoring me; roosters are like that. Anyway… a Graveyard poet is one who writes about such morbid things relating to – oh, you already guessed it, graveyards.

THE EPITAPH

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth

A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.

Fair Science frown’d not on his humble birth,

And Melancholy mark’d him for her own.

 

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,

Heav’n did a recompense as largely send:

He gave to Mis’ry all he had, a tear,

He gain’d from Heav’n (’twas all he wish’d) a friend.

 

No farther seek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,

(There they alike in trembling hope repose)

The bosom of his Father and his God.

 

 I (by the way) have a poem titled My Epitaph. Yes, really!  Getting Me Back (The Voices Within) released this month and is now available in digital or paperback.

 

Before I Go…

/ Janna Hill / 1 Comment

A couple of things before I go…

Perpetual Series has a new cover. The cover was created from a photo I took several years ago. Sadly that flower no longer grows in my garden.

PERPETUAL THE SERIES 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

Getting Me Back releases tomorrow [Friday March 31st] just in time for NPM and yes, that is my hand on the cover.

Getting Me Back- The Voices Within 2 (897x1280)

 

 

 

 

 

Now I have to run and pack but remember April is only a couple of days away. You all know that April is NPM/National Poetry Month so get ready for it [boys and girls] because I will be back next week and there will be poetry. 😀

 

Bat-Shit Crazy & Indie Update

/ Janna Hill / 10 Comments

Can you believe it has been 4 years since I posted The First Year as an Indie (Lessons Learned)?

So much has changed… yet stayed the same.

I have created new works and destroyed old ones.

I have watched literary markets as well as loved ones come and go.

I pretty much left the ‘pertinent’ social media scenes. Why? For a few reasons, just pick one or make one up – that’s always fun.

New authors have asked, “Did decreasing media presence hurt book sales?”

My answer: “Laws yes! But you know what? I still do not give a flying rat’s fanny.”

I am sorry if that’s not the ‘right’ answer but it is my answer… my truth.  That is the beauty of being an independent author.

Another truth is I was in “an unhealthy state of dealing with stress” – that is a sophisticated way of saying I was “bat-shit crazy in the midst of a nervous breakdown.”

Social media [as well as life] was becoming a struggle to keep up with; it was also getting in the way of Getting Me Back.

Getting Me Back (The Voices Within) is scheduled to release March 31st, it is available for pre-order now. Go ahead and order it so you will have it in time for NPM (National Poetry Month)

If you have never had a nervous breakdown, I would not recommend embarking on that journey.

If you want a peek at what my journey was/is like, I’d recommend reading Getting Me Back.

If you are currently bat-shit crazy in the midst of a nervous breakdown definitely get some help and read Getting Me Back. Hey, we can journey together.

 

P.S. Happy Saint Patrick’s Day

saint patricks day card (1024x727)

A Pilgrims Prayer (Revisited)

/ Janna Hill / 2 Comments

Another November is nearly at end and another Thanksgiving is upon us.

And, another revisiting of A Pilgrims Prayer. (Slightly revised from previous version)

A Pilgrim’s Prayer

Once upon a time a long, a long time ago (before Black Friday) Thanksgiving was a celebration of harvest and a time to give thanks.

Those early pilgrims did not have the conveniences we enjoy today, yet somehow they survived.

I didn’t really know any of those pilgrims but I did see a John Wayne movie once. John knew a pilgrim when he saw one. He seemed to know a lot of pilgrims but that was a long time ago too.

I propose we are all pilgrims, each one of us on a journey of sorts; our own personal pilgrimage, if you will.

turkey-on-the-trail-1024x626

We are all looking for something. Be it a quest for self-confirmation, truth, a cure, enrichment, enlightenment, comfort, a friend, a lover, a job, a meal, or a place to lay our weary head at the end of another day.

I believe life is a journey, or at least it should be. It would be terrible to think we were just flailing through this experience, killing time on this giant floating gumball, while waiting for the next Black Friday specials.

I believe we all have one destination, though we travel many different roads and I trust that we have choices.

Hopefully we will choose well. On the occasion we take a wrong turn [and we will] I pray we have enough sense and humility to stop and seek direction, to reassess our route and to be considerate in our voyage.

wild-turkey-whiskey-1024x710

So here’s wishing all of you pilgrims a Happy Thanksgiving and may we all, whatever road we’re on, take time to look ahead, pause, and meditate on the many things we have to be grateful for, put aside our grievances and give thanks.

My personal prayer:

I pray our good seeds of hope, humility, toil and courage produce abundantly; that love and kindness grow wild like the weeds of early spring – fruitful and undeterred. And your harvest be rich with wisdom and discernment.