As you may have gathered, my two creative passions are photography and poetry. And it really doesn't matter which comes first. I recently read a poem written by my friend's daughter. It inspired so many images. I love it when someone's imagination sparks another's.
To an Optimist: By Sadie Nielson
You chase me and smile as if I were in pain,
Trying to force me into your garden – I already grow my own flowers, I don’t want yours. You espouse a life that pins one's hope merely on the odds.
Well, I find it odd,
to take pride in such a fatalistic and futile existence.
Ill-placed hope in destiny is a perfect fool’s errand,
you see, destiny; if it should exist at all,
makes no attempt to view humanity through the same rose-colored glass as you do.
The path of life: of purpose, is a reality
that contains no mysterious bright light at the end of its bleak tunnel;
that the only light emitted is one ignited by the passion of mankind.
Not some divine being
who can manipulate lives through the balanced issuing of mercy –
You so righteously preach these prose of religion and fail to see that you undermine the meaning of mortal choice.
Where consequences, blessed or cursed, hail from human beings.
burying yourself in fear is a miserable waste of time and
it becomes more obvious everyday that our existence is in demand for some type of hope: to drown the nightmares, to
drive the aspiration for happiness. But,
don’t waste time sitting and waiting for another door to finally open,
because when it doesn’t, you won’t risk the disappointment
of not receiving the blessings that God never promised in the first place.
I may be a cynic,
but that doesn’t mean I'm incapable of a hopeful disposition.
In my own turn of mind, I’d prefer a sunrise to a sunset,
to serve as a welcome reminder that the future is open; and
despite the sorrow once felt, new beginnings can emerge,
But only through the wishful thinking that is solely entrusted to myself. I shall not bind myself to the leaden chains of good fortune,
Nor be an apprehensive prisoner to God himself.
A pessimist, a realist? – or whatever you wish to call me, We see the world for what it is,
a world that neither owes a single cent or,
is ever compelled to collect any type of formidable debt.
Poet and Fine Art Photographer Wannabe