“In A New York Minute” by Roger Guetta


(9/11 Tribute)

In a heartbeat, we entered the realm of the melancholy,
In a wink of an eye, we found ourselves at the edge of the abyss,
In a sneaking suspicion, we uttered true lies.
In a moment in time, we lost our balance,
In a glimmer of hope, we were swept away,
In a last gasp, we grew weary,
In a lasting desire, we lay naked,
In a sequence of events, we lost our rhythm,
In making due, we compromised our dignity,
In a New York minute, we faced unspeakable truths,
In a split second, we accommodated a solemn thought,
In a broken promise, we understood our fragility,
In a slim chance, we rolled snake eyes,
In a forced grin, we encountered our double,
In a double take, we fixated our eyes on the sublime,
In a round about way, we made peace with ourselves,
In a false step, we heard ourselves falter,
In dire straights, we rebounded to live another day,
In resisting temptation, we became God’s savior,
In seizing the moment, we set the record straight,
In tempting fate, we lagged behind the running pack,
In tuning in, we arrested our development,
In twisting the truth, we fell prey to untold misery,
In breaking new ground, we lost our footing,
In flirting with disaster, we landed on our asses,
In a solemn oath, we deceived our own shadows,
In the eye of the storm, we captured our enigmatic spirits,
but lost them again during the calming,
In the depths of despair, we muscled our way to the front of the line,
In a stroke of luck, we lived the moment,
In a silent prayer, we forced a smile,
In a lingering thought, we assumed the position,
and didn’t dare lift a finger
In calculating our every move, we faced our shortcomings,
In sensing danger, we reached in our pockets and made no sudden moves,
In embracing religion, we became zealots,
In rejecting religion, we became careful,
In acts of generosity, we let things slide,
we let them slip,
we let them sail,
never asking anything in return,
In fine form, we insulted a humble soul.
The humble soul remains us.

Poem & Photo by Roger Guetta

Quebec/Canada

“A Winter Dream” by Arthur Rimbaud

 

 

In winter we’ll travel in a little pink carriage
With cushions of blue.
We’ll be fine. A nest of mad kisses waits
In each corner too.

You’ll shut your eyes, not to see, through the glass,
Grimacing shadows of evening,
Those snarling monsters, a crowd going past
Of black wolves and black demons.

Then you’ll feel your cheek tickled quite hard…
A little kiss, like a maddened spider,
Will run over your neck…

And you’ll say: “Catch it!” bowing your head,
– And we’ll take our time finding that creature
– Who travels so far…

Arthur Rimbaud

to your photostream page

Photo by VC Ferry

vcferry.com

© 2011

“all the way home” by Thayer/Ferry

he just kept playin’ and blowin’ his blue notes

into the echos of his emptiness

hitting notes of all our

emptiness

as we listened to our heart strings

and our matter of factness

being  pulled back

we would forget what time it was

cause it stopped mattering

as his belly blew the melancholy

reaching right through us

reaching deep into us

reaching each other

as he took us

all the way home

L. K. Thayer

Photo by VC Ferry

© 2010

“The Big Apple” Photo by VC Ferry

Why do they call New York City The Big Apple??

“In the late 1920s and early 1930s, New York City’s jazz musicians began referring to New York City as the “Big Apple.” An old saying in show business was “There are many apples on the tree, but only one Big Apple.” New York City being the premier place to perform was referred to as the Big Apple.”

How do ya like them apples?!! 😛 😛 😛

VC Ferry

All Rights Reserved

© 2010