An Ode to the Girl Who I Could Never Write
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she flicked her hair
and teased me to compare
her with mother nature
for her beauty
measured against the world
could not stand the weight
of every grain of sand
in the palm of her hand
Recently, the girl I could never write and I visited the Kruger national park. This compelled me to take some pictures of her in the haste of viewing all the animals. In remembering the moments, I am compelled, again, to write poetry to the girl I could never write. She danced in front of nature's beauty, and I dared to compare her with nature herself. One of her favorite poems is Shakespear's Sonnet 18, and this line stuck with me: Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Here, I want to compare her not to a summer's day but to nature's beauty. However, skip these quasi-poetic words if you feel so inclined, it is after all a photography post! In either case, I hope you enjoy these photographs.
Dare I Compare Her to Nature's Beauty
dare I compare you
to all of nature's beauty
when we cannot hold
all of the world's grains of sand
in the palm of our hands
dare I compare you
to something I do not know
every breath of
for the world is our canvas
but you are the painting
dare I make the comparison
nothing new
nothing old
centuries have gone by
of lovers seeing nature
in each other's eyes
but the green of the leaves
and the blue of the sky
reflects in your words and mind
when we fight against the world
all whilst the loving kiss
remains like manna in the desert
the comparison breaks down
as my words lay bare
the ground dry and my will weak
for your beauty cannot be balanced
on rough terrain
as I am the only one
that resides in your grasp
dare I even compare
and contrast
art the moves and shapes
the world in which
I try to make sense
of that which does not have
meaning to grasp
for the river of knowledge
flowing from your mouth
is a trap I am delighted
to fall into
time and time again
alas
the comparison fails
as your silhouette
overwhelms my naivety
and I cannot but look
at the world that resides
in the palm of your hand
Postscriptum, or How Shall I Compare thee
Nature in all her beauty sometimes slips the grasp of poets. They write in the moment and they take a poetic picture of that period. But time slowly moves on and the poet loses grasp on the future moments. Like the ever-flowing river, nature shapes and reshapes herself into different forms and beauties.
Yet, sometimes the poet feels compelled, or even overwhelmed, to write; to get the wording in such a way as to mimic reality but not in an objective sense of the word. Rather, the reality the poet feels at that moment. Because what worth is objective knowledge when subjective experience is the catalyst for all poetry and art?
As we walk away from nature's grasp on us to return to the concrete jungle, the moments of lucid awareness in which she danced like the quintessential nymph, replays in my mind over and over again.
In any case, I hope you enjoyed these photographs, and if you read the poetry in that case the words as well. For now, happy photographing and stay well.
The writings and musings and poetic meanderings are my own creation albeit inspired by the girl who I could never write and nature's beauty. The photographs are also my own, taken with my Nikon D300 and Tamron 300mm lens/50mm Nikkor lens.