Forecast of Perils - A poem of warning to all.

Given the coming Ice-storm predicted here in SLC tonight, folks, take heed to the guy who once lived where they often occur.....

You will fall,
no matter how sure-footed,
even with all your cautiously placed steps,
so walk with extra care
keeping elbow tucked.

When you drop,
roll to pulled in side
and seek to find the frozen ground
with shoulder blade before head,
shoulder or arm.

Let it happen,
you'll just mess up backs
trying to argue with gravity and ice
as they seek to embrace
you like bears.

Power lines collapse
under the weight after while
and with six to twelve hours predicted
just count on those blocking
your forward progress.

Lights will fail,
as it progresses wrapping limbs
of trees not really bred for such abuse
snapping them off with pops
then tackling cables.

This is hell
at least if frozen over,
an ice skater's dream to commute across
a driver's worst nightmare risen
out of darkness.

So, take heed,
stock up on rock salt,
kitty litter and other traction aiding devices
slow down your pace some
and accept it.

'Cause hurrying around
just leads to nasty accidents
and there are too many of those already
come this time of year
that flatten cheer.

Most of all,
watch out for the walkers
who will plant their fundaments very hard,
before sliding into heavy traffic
before stopping's possible.

Call it revenge
of Jack Frost for Spring
as he covers the world around you
in beautiful ice that make
for picturesque moments.

Just never forget,
even while admiring that sheathed tree
there is danger all around you tomorrow
waiting to break your bones,
or bruise pride.

18December2013 - Dyfedd Rex, praying he and the weather men blow this forecast.

Into the shadows until dawn comes - A poem of the streets

Some-days it really sucks being me,
unable to partake of the stuff
other use to escape our reality
thanks to my nasty allergic reactions.
Too proud to crawl into bottles
the other guys take swigs from,
leaves this good ol' boy wondering
What the Hell can I do?
Other than sit by the water fountain
in the small designated smoking area
filling up my tobacco pipe occasionally
tossing out smoke rings to watch
drift off from under my hat
sailing away as I'm unable to.

So I sit here waiting patiently
for the night's soft velvet colors
camera dead weight in my pack,
stuck on F-stop plus five thousand
judging by the whiteout pictures taken
the last few sunsets and rises.
Still just rising up, waxing moon
the laughing man nearly all there
as the mad ones howl loud
anticipating their night to rule all:
streets, alleys and lonely dark parks
harassing me about being out here
the only sober guy this weekend
when they enjoy their wild parties.

Folks stroll past on the pathways
giving me dirty looks down noses
forgetting who their Carpenter walked with.
I'd rather be in the Foothills,
sitting in a grove real quiet
waiting for God's pastel sky paintings
and the racing of Summer's meteor showers
across the vault so dark above,
even as the crickets serenade me.
Six bucks lie in my pocket,
a few swigs of Coke left,
the a pop bottle of water
filled before the library shut down
and I had to leave it.


The shadows cast by the buildings lengthen,
as the sun seeks other places
to give her warmth down to.
Chill breezes cross the park's grass,
making my layers a needed thing
under their gentlest of feather massages.
Another night out on the streets,
just seeking a quiet, safe place
to layout my bedroll at,
set aside this load I'll lift
when I set out to sleep.
Dark hours spent hidden from sight
so I won't offend some folks
for being denied benefits and homeless.

Falling water soothes my soul's aches,
flowers give my eyes balm's touch.
Still, deep inside my thick skull
barbs tossed today my way sting.
Rejection from jobs, stories won't flow,
not even those simple toss-away's
I use to clear internal buffers.
Insults, spoken and silent, still burn,
salt to wounds opened by acts
of arrogance, greed and other sins,
I once was guilty of also.
Motorcycles stuttering call, headed up state,
cruising for their Friday night rides
say its time to head on...
...back into shadows until dawn comes.

21June2013 - Dyfedd Rex.

Solar Paparazzi - A Poem of Chasing Sunsets and Sunrises

Move a inch or a foot, 

sometimes even a mile,

just to get that one shot

where the light is perfect

with a smudge of foreground

before the light show's glow.

I feel Orion's hand

guiding the camera

respecting my hunting

even if the sought prey

is not what he once stalked,

knowing my soul forages.

Not alone in this quest,

others join in nearby.

Shutters click, sighs, comments

all about our target

as she rises or sets

painting the sky gently.

We are the Solar Paparazzi,

seeking beauty around us each day

to share with others or just our souls.

Silhouettes dance wildly

before the changing sky

or stand still in respect

of the moment Ra dives

beneath the distant edge

where the world doth end. 

Orange and pinks shine,

lavender hues sneak in

to try the tint limits

the tool in hand sets down

as the rules for this hunt,

which is a timed event.

Golden air, Angry reds

each color sends ciphers

read best by the elders

who know that lore from youth

and try to pass it down

across generations. 

We are the Solar Paparazzi,

Rising early, bedding down later,

but we treasure every moment.

... unless Sol hides from our stalking lens. 

31May2013 - Dyfedd Rex

I am Sunset's Thrall - Poem and Photos of Sunset

(more photos amid and after the poem!)

Got bit again this week

by that shutter bug virus.

It floats about in air

seeking victims to wickedly enchant

teased into her contagious embrace

by a moment so beautiful

you just cannot pass by.

This was the case Tuesday

when I headed out slow

rounded the corner to see

the sunset blaze under clouds

that already were watering me

thinking me just another blade

on the lawn down here. 

So I share some frames

caught on my beat-up camera,

a simple digital Kodak C310,

that could use tune-up

or even better a replacement.

Forgive the grains, the blurs,

She gives what she has....

... and still keeps clicking away. 

30May2013 - Dyfedd Rex

Bird of Sunset in Nature's Temple - a poem of Nature and Civilization's Meeting

Amid the bustle of the city
things fall to the waysides fast
and we forget where we originated
until we touch the urban interface
where the wild still comes out.
Even if it's just the backyard
where an open handful of seeds
can bring down bits of sky
as the bird of sunset's flame
settles down on soft fingers
to feast upon offerings to Nature
amid her temple we never see
unless we awake, opening our eyes.

8December2012 - Dyfedd Rex
A person on twitter shared a picture of feeding a cardinal from someone's hand... and this came from it and their caption. I hope to get permission to link to the picture... but imagine it if you have to.

Edited 9 Dec for adding this link to the photo! thanks for letting me Liza! Enjoy her art too!
https://twitter.com/LizasArt/status/277488128162418688/photo/1

She Remembers... - A poem of Nature's Seasonal Gift to me.

She remembered me despite a year
walked towards me for a moment
then scattered back to her herd
scared off by the slowing bicyclist.

Backing into the brush for then
she wandered off amid the scrub oak
turning her head back on occasion,
until her buck imposed himself between us.

Few weeks later, after bad night
I went camping instead to the shelter
wandered back to my low camp
to spend a night away from crap.

In the early hours before dawn
I felt something walk in with hesitance
then a nose touched my neck
sniffing before giving a sudden surprising lick.

Looking through squinted eyes I noted,
she was there, as all around me
her herd settled into separate bowers,
and she took the one containing me.

I rose slowly, each move careful,
rolling up my gear, making my packs
trying not to spook this doe,
who watched me leave, taking my place.

This is nature's gift this season
the doe who remembered me from before
and knew I would leave warm
the spot she sleeps at by day.

8December2012 - Dyfedd Rex

The Rewards of Subtle Sunsets and Patience - A poem of photography and nature

A dull grey evening

not a hint of color

as I chased one last sunset

and looked at slate skies

worried nothing would show.

 Hints of pink lay

far off to the north

barely showing to my lens

beyond detail range of zoom

which was digitally supplied

Across the railyard's remains

past that band dropping rain

in scattered showers I could see

that a trip south tonight

might have held rewards.

Too late to change

stuck with the venue here

I waited patiently just to see 

if that slim break westward

over the islands grew. 

So I goofed around

playing with limited F stops

seeing what I could salvage yet

of the night's simple beauty,

staying away from trouble.

Looking southeast, over downtown

Olympus and Twin Peaks stayed clear

save the bands of precipitation flirting briefly

to lay thin snowy hints

of the week ahead. 

Play of windowed light

finding a chasm amid billows

whose dark bottoms gave me contrasts

to show Nature's gorgeous shadows

on mountains and foreground.

Many frames sunk in

permeating memories, silicon and carbon

when northward glance caught the light

as far-off curtains burned

over another city there.

Bit north of west

the gap kindled at last

outlining Stansbury Island with rich pinks

and making me think softly

'tis my money shot. 

A few more clicks

about to give up finally

and seek a bunk and food

when out of the corner

my eye noted rays.

Two steps forward hesitating

not sure what I could catch

and God's paint brush moved swift

laying out the beams subtly

amid the grey world

So short a display

barely time to record it

as the rays descended westward swiftly

leaving only skyfire broken harshly

by smokestacks and lightpoles. 

Thank you, World.

For this

Bliss.