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Arden Raine is an ex-theatrical making sense of life through many lenses.

Thursday, March 26, 2015

The Clandestine Lives of Furniture (Story Track #9)

When we walked in and turned on the light we didn't expect to see the Seating in a coffee clatch.

We simply admired their lines as they inturn ignored our human intrusion.

With no by our leave the furniture continued their shellacy musings as all of us, man and not, enjoyed the view.

(Photography by John Amplas, used with permission)

Mood Indigo (Story Track #8)

The air stole the chilled breath from my lips.
Racing, the plume lifts in a frothing mass.
A sprint to join it's lover in the heavens.
To entwine its soft azure self with Dawn's rosy glow.

His Character was as Plain as the Bark of His Trunk (Story Track #7)

Freddy was a creep.

All the other oaks avoided him. He was the kind of trunk that drank too deeply and got all grab-assy. He once chucked a nest of baby mice into the underbrush just to see how long it took for their mum to rescue them.

The dryads knew better than to shelter inside Freddy. His bark labeled his character very clearly.

Yep that Red Oak was just an asshole plain and simple.

They See All and Know All (Story Track #6)

The hairs on my neck rose ever so slightly in the foggy morning air.

An uncanny sense of being under surveillance cloaked my mind like a sodden blanket.

But it's obvious that I am utterly alone.

Laughing I think it's not like the hills have eyes!

Ernest in the Rain, an Ernest Chronicle (Story Track #5)

You know perhaps I was a bit too hasty...

Today the Grumpy has become the Serene.

Was it my offerings that soothed his brow?

Did he simply want some time in the spotlight?

Perhaps Ernest simply was taken by a bad spell of the rheumatic yesterday?

I still think his pockets carry treats. Yet I have noticed a lack of squirrels nearby.

He's a puzzle my new acquaintance.

Good day to you fine fellow!

Saddy or Fae 007? (Story Track #4)

I followed behind the family as we meandered through the evening ramble.

"His name is Saddy!" she cried.  "I found a faery in the trees too! We must be magical folks." she concluded with a sage nod to her father. How could we deny such obvious truth?

There's an awaking begun in our neighborhood.  Is it that the Veil Folk slumber the winter months along with the groundhogs and voles? Are the Fair-Folk stirring or is it just our eyes are seeing what has always been?

Saddy? I am not so sure.

I caught the rich scent of expensive Turkish tobacco this morning on the rainy breeze. If ever a chap would be one to puff thoughtfully upon a Meerschaum stalk it's this handsome sprite. I think he has a more distinguished nomenclature. I'll bet he's elfin secret service. "Move along human there's nothing to see here."

But then again, he introduced himself to the 6 year old first.

Magic is a foot. So I am obligated to jot down these musings. Less so because spring drags the romantic nonsensical out of a poet and more as evidentiary record. 

Just in case we wander too close to the holey stone.

Ernest in the Last Snowfall (Story Track #3)

Every weekday morning after I bundle the kidlet on to the bus I walk home through my local park. It's a tiny secluded space tucked conveniently a few doors away from our urban homestead.

And yet every day I find more mystical and magical denizens through my camera's lens.

This tough bugger I have walked past about a million times in the last 6 years. But only today did he feel like letting me see him.

Perhaps he's as sick of the snow as I have finally become. Which is no mean feat!

I think I'll call him Ernest. He has the gruff exterior of a steelman come off a double shift of pulling molten hell into rolls of shiny cash for The Man. But I like to think he gives caramels to the younger fae when other adults are not around.

I will listen closer this afternoon to see if he is growling to the squirrels to get off his lawn!

Sky Feathers (Story Track #2)

Sky Feathers

Remnants of old gods
Thunderbird dreaming of better times
Delicate and elusive like sacred whispers

The Genesis of the Story Track

A few months back I was asked to participate in an informal photography challenge by my good friend Kim Rullo of
Mother Blue blog fame:
https://motherblue.wordpress.com/about-2/. Kim is an amazing designer and mom and wife and artist and soul. Seriously check her work out!

We have been doing little once a day images based on a theme and this was a challenge to take photos and add short poems or stories to complement the images.

I adore the concept.  My two favorite artistic endevours in one place? Sign me up.

Oddly it never occurred to me to share here with all of you. So I shall be adding to my blog any story tracks I create and share on social media. And in the last week I have had daily entries.

I posted them to my blog's Facebook page (search: Arden Raine) already so forgive the crossover.

I hope my photographs and writing please.  Some are truthfulness yet some are musing and whimsy. It's your job to decide which.


Requiem for Tinkerbell (story track #1)

My kidlet started crying this morning on our walk to school. When I asked her why she just kept saying: "She's Dead!" Confused I asked who is dead. Then she took me back a few steps and I understood.

In an attempt to console her I said: "Oh Sweetheart, that's just bird poop." And her eyes became dark pools as she pondered.

Then with a slight tilt to her elfin face she says: "Birds poop fairies? Cool."

Keep the magic in the everyday, my friends.