by Gene H. Ghong
Vaporous
It was the wettest summer ever.
Our dreams with rain emulsified,
And the streets were luminous with them,
The youngwere talking about breathedbreathing the future;
The old were immersed in memories.
The air was filled with steaming desires,
And then . . .
The bustle became faint,
And the streets were shrouded with blurs of memories.
It was the wettest summer ever,
Stained with regrets,
And yet pulling me back forever.
Poetry as divination,
poetry as revelation
of the self to the self,
as restoration
of the culture to itself.
Seamus Heaney
Preoccupations
Poetry is a discipline, a mnemonic tool, and that it can be used to bring healing, creative energies into a world which is sorely in need of them.
Ted Hughes
Poetry in the Making
"My passion has never been for photography "in itself,"
but for the possibility
- through forgetting yourself -
of recording in a fraction
of a second the
emotion of the subject, and the
beauty of the form."
Henri Cartier-Bresson
The Mind's Eye
Alexey Titarenko
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