Vincent Lowry's Blog - Posts Tagged "vincent"
Guest Blogger
Dear friends,
I was a guest blogger on teenreads.com and I thought you might enjoy this article I wrote about the changes in the publishing industry. Here is the link:
http://www.teenreads.com/blog/2009/11...
-Vince
I was a guest blogger on teenreads.com and I thought you might enjoy this article I wrote about the changes in the publishing industry. Here is the link:
http://www.teenreads.com/blog/2009/11...
-Vince
A Thousand Horizons
A purple moon
Betrays no emotion
From its veiled sky
Of night and disarray
Through fate’s door,
Thrust against will,
A wolf embarks
On the strangest of journeys
In this land,
The wind has banished
Scents from its
Back
The earth has
Swept clean
Trails and paths
From its face
And the sky
Has drowned
All stars
In their navigational seas
Disorder stands
Upright,
Its oily boots atop
The graves of laws and vows
A violet crescent outlines
The wolf’s new home,
A thousand horizons
Hiding an ocean of searching souls
A Thousand Horizons (c) 2010 by Vincent Lowry
Betrays no emotion
From its veiled sky
Of night and disarray
Through fate’s door,
Thrust against will,
A wolf embarks
On the strangest of journeys
In this land,
The wind has banished
Scents from its
Back
The earth has
Swept clean
Trails and paths
From its face
And the sky
Has drowned
All stars
In their navigational seas
Disorder stands
Upright,
Its oily boots atop
The graves of laws and vows
A violet crescent outlines
The wolf’s new home,
A thousand horizons
Hiding an ocean of searching souls
A Thousand Horizons (c) 2010 by Vincent Lowry
Time
You could say time is nothing more
than just the constant circling of
hands on a clock,
a way for us to measure the day
as it dips in and out of light.
But it’s much more than that, isn’t it?
Its hold on our lives and thoughts
is as strong and relentless as the vacuum of gravity.
You need only to ask yourself how often
you’ve glanced at the hour today,
and whether that result made you anxious
about your late arrival,
or ecstatic about the flight
returning a friend from a distant place
remembered in months or years.
Its force stirs instant emotions,
transforming pictures into images of lost
love and youth,
and vacant houses
into symbols of yesterday’s lives and dreams.
It thrusts us into our world,
first aging the universe 13 billion years,
then ushers us out, bent and withered,
after barely eighty trips
around our own aged star.
And what precisely is our hold on it?
With our creams, our dyes, our surgeries,
our toys, our distractions?
Do we have a firm handle on time’s reins,
pulling it in with our meticulous measurements of the present,
counting the seconds and minutes with haughty confidence,
yet still feeling the reins slip away
as we remain in ignorance about its ancient beginning,
its unforeseeable future,
and our mysterious and brief place riding in its saddle.
By Vincent Lowry - October 18, 2012 - 1:07:21 PM
than just the constant circling of
hands on a clock,
a way for us to measure the day
as it dips in and out of light.
But it’s much more than that, isn’t it?
Its hold on our lives and thoughts
is as strong and relentless as the vacuum of gravity.
You need only to ask yourself how often
you’ve glanced at the hour today,
and whether that result made you anxious
about your late arrival,
or ecstatic about the flight
returning a friend from a distant place
remembered in months or years.
Its force stirs instant emotions,
transforming pictures into images of lost
love and youth,
and vacant houses
into symbols of yesterday’s lives and dreams.
It thrusts us into our world,
first aging the universe 13 billion years,
then ushers us out, bent and withered,
after barely eighty trips
around our own aged star.
And what precisely is our hold on it?
With our creams, our dyes, our surgeries,
our toys, our distractions?
Do we have a firm handle on time’s reins,
pulling it in with our meticulous measurements of the present,
counting the seconds and minutes with haughty confidence,
yet still feeling the reins slip away
as we remain in ignorance about its ancient beginning,
its unforeseeable future,
and our mysterious and brief place riding in its saddle.
By Vincent Lowry - October 18, 2012 - 1:07:21 PM
The Unvisited Past
Morro Rock still stood
proudly to the heavens in its blue bath,
and the feathered hunters,
though now several generations removed,
continued to circle nature’s landmark
in a display of the bay’s timelessness.
Yet much had changed since I last cast
my shadow on this harbor.
A birth had transformed lives,
a darkness had stolen a fragile love,
and a dream had unfolded into something
vast and unfathomable.
It is the unvisited past that hits the hardest,
the returned trips to sites we seldom frequent.
Time is measured not by days or weeks,
but by vows, promotions, heartbreaks, and deaths.
One does not have the benefit of
too many sunsets smoothing the sharp edges of memory.
Here nothing is blurred.
The past spreads open before you
with all its blemishes and imperfections,
showing a vibrant picture of where you once stood,
a youth bound for greatness, for bliss,
and where you now sit,
humbled by years,
the ice cream bleeding down your cone.
But wisdom, the slowest of waters,
flows in abundance in these rare moments.
It cascades from above, off the mountain
you’ve been ascending since days unremembered.
(c) 2013 by Vincent Lowry
proudly to the heavens in its blue bath,
and the feathered hunters,
though now several generations removed,
continued to circle nature’s landmark
in a display of the bay’s timelessness.
Yet much had changed since I last cast
my shadow on this harbor.
A birth had transformed lives,
a darkness had stolen a fragile love,
and a dream had unfolded into something
vast and unfathomable.
It is the unvisited past that hits the hardest,
the returned trips to sites we seldom frequent.
Time is measured not by days or weeks,
but by vows, promotions, heartbreaks, and deaths.
One does not have the benefit of
too many sunsets smoothing the sharp edges of memory.
Here nothing is blurred.
The past spreads open before you
with all its blemishes and imperfections,
showing a vibrant picture of where you once stood,
a youth bound for greatness, for bliss,
and where you now sit,
humbled by years,
the ice cream bleeding down your cone.
But wisdom, the slowest of waters,
flows in abundance in these rare moments.
It cascades from above, off the mountain
you’ve been ascending since days unremembered.
(c) 2013 by Vincent Lowry
Photography Slide Show
I took a little time to create this slide show of some of the fine art pictures I've taken over the past few years. I hope viewers will enjoy it.
:)
Link:
http://youtu.be/QKOPP4kIGLc
:)
Link:
http://youtu.be/QKOPP4kIGLc
Finding a Way
You can compare it
to a lone Soaptree Yucca,
dune perched,
roots stretching into the earth
for rare drops of nourishment,
liquid treasure from a pregnant cloud.
You can turn to water itself,
seeping through cracks thought sealed,
boring through rock mountain high,
carving canyon cathedrals in its wake.
Even the air will suffice.
Drown it with a bag and watch its grand escape,
first slipping through holes unseen,
then rising to the surface
to rejoin its rightful place,
free between ocean and stars.
Such is the temple of the universe, a timeless, unbending order.
And this is true of love.
That a heart, once lost, shall discover its path again,
choosing the same holes,
slipping between the same unseen cracks.
You will not know its route, nor its hour of arrival.
But love will find a way back to you.
(c) 2013 by Vincent Lowry
to a lone Soaptree Yucca,
dune perched,
roots stretching into the earth
for rare drops of nourishment,
liquid treasure from a pregnant cloud.
You can turn to water itself,
seeping through cracks thought sealed,
boring through rock mountain high,
carving canyon cathedrals in its wake.
Even the air will suffice.
Drown it with a bag and watch its grand escape,
first slipping through holes unseen,
then rising to the surface
to rejoin its rightful place,
free between ocean and stars.
Such is the temple of the universe, a timeless, unbending order.
And this is true of love.
That a heart, once lost, shall discover its path again,
choosing the same holes,
slipping between the same unseen cracks.
You will not know its route, nor its hour of arrival.
But love will find a way back to you.
(c) 2013 by Vincent Lowry
Finite
It doesn't last,
though we often think otherwise.
So cast our line in the lake of today,
reel in what the universe provides,
and be thankful for boat we've been lent.
Feel the steady breeze of good memories,
see the golden rays of those within our marrow,
and silence the Sirens' luring hymn.
Finite is the soul's temple.
The trees echo this wisdom--
a million leaves rippling in a symphony
before drifting to the earth,
where they lay in display to the church of stars
and a moon's lonely gaze.
(c) 2014 by Vincent Lowry
though we often think otherwise.
So cast our line in the lake of today,
reel in what the universe provides,
and be thankful for boat we've been lent.
Feel the steady breeze of good memories,
see the golden rays of those within our marrow,
and silence the Sirens' luring hymn.
Finite is the soul's temple.
The trees echo this wisdom--
a million leaves rippling in a symphony
before drifting to the earth,
where they lay in display to the church of stars
and a moon's lonely gaze.
(c) 2014 by Vincent Lowry
