Floral Symphony

Gramps had eyes that could see
two ants mating in a peony. He could see
long lost cities

beneath the bark of a dead tree,
a tick landing on a rhino’s back.
Why heck, he even found a needle

in a haystack. Just yesterday,
as I watched him in the garden,
I saw him start to shake.

His eyes looked wider than a china plate.
He cupped his hands and yelled aloud,
“Billy! Ever seen a cricket

conduct a floral symphony?
C’mon,” he whispered;
"Let's tune into Big Red.

Down we went on hands and knees.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
A cricket, dressed in tails,

as anyone could see,
was conducting a floral symphony.
And if you don’t believe me,

take another look.


c. Douglas Fireman

King Solomon Overlooking Jerusalem

Best seen Large. Discovered this on the back of a dried mushroom.

No Ordinary Peony

When I saw that face
among the flowers
peeking out at me, I smiled.

A moment ago, it was just
an ordinary peony.
How could this be?

I had never seen
a flower that resembled
a human face,

especially
one that whispered,
"I love you."

Suddenly, I realized
that I had been deceived
by the one eyed priest

whose God did not reside
in Nature's Paradise.
And then,

I said aloud
to the face in the floral crowd,
"I love you too,"

and knew
I had communed
with God...


c. Douglas Fireman

A touch of paint, and some
shaping helped to create
the face in the peony on the right.
Posted by Doug at 11:42 AM 0 comments

A Silent Friend

It isn't everyone
who has a silent friend
a friend

who doesn't say a word
but just listens.
When I found him

in the bark of that old tree
I knew that we would be
the best of pals.

Lately I've had the need
to share my grief with him.
Sounds crazy, but must

a caring, listening, friend
be Real to heal
a broken heart?

c. Douglas Fireman

My friend is wearing a hat,
a camouflage jacket,
orange pants, and black shoes.

Recurrent Midnight Dream

There is no end to the imagery
found in marble walls.


Last night
I rode a marble horse
through a marvelous

moonlit dream.
When it stopped to drink
from a silver stream

you were there.
How that came to be
I'll never know...

Yet every time we meet
by that meandering
silver stream

we ride through wind blown
canyons in a recurrent
midnight dream.

c. Douglas Fireman

Wrestling Match

The other day,
when in the forest,
I saw a wrestling match

that to some,
would seem
a mighty strange one.

black birds
cawed incessantly,
while I,

bent on hands and knees,
refereed a match
between two angry leaves...

c. Douglas Fireman

Ancestral Visions

If my heart song
is melancholy tonight
and my silver flute
reflects the darkside
of the moon

it's because
my people's past has
disappeared
all too soon.

Once...ancestral voices
sang in unison, blending
with shake of rattles;
the beat of drums.

And as I dance
the tinkling bells
upon my moccasins
evoke ancestral
visions.

Hypnotic sounds
of sacred seeds
rattle through
my memory.

The ancestors
are beckoning me.
I hear their songs
echoing soular
canyons.

And then
save for the graceful
flap of an eagle's
wings

all is silent...

c. Douglas Fireman

A bit of Reimaging; a touch of paint
with Picasa Tools.

Turbaned Priest of Autumn

Three crisp leaves
curled up
into the perfect

little sanctuary. Inside,
a turbaned priest
of Autumn

resting
beneath
a silver moon...


c. Douglas Fireman
Posted by Doug at 8:51 AM 0 comments

Yesterday,
I saw a cat-faced leaf
along the garden path.

At first, I thought I'd paste it
in my scrap book,
but when I bent to pick it up,

it meowed two times.
I thought I was hearing things.
Don't know what you'd do,

but I meowed back.


c. Douglas Fireman

Today the shapes
of forest leaves revealed
Seahorse

floating
on Maybell scented
skies

Mouse
briefly meditating
on the Holy Cheese

Cobra
insinuating into
incense memories

Swan sailing
through that memorable
afternoon

when Nature
again performed
her miraculous
magic act

c. Douglas Fireman

Plain As Day

This morning
in the woods
I saw a bearded unicorn

with a broken horn
It seemed oblivious
to the beaver

just behind
those leaves
gnawing wood

Amazed
I stood squinting
in the forest mist

For breakfast
had a gimlet
and a chaser

But no my eyes
did not deceive me
Took a pic

to prove the critters
were actually there
Uploaded it

to Flickr
There they were
plain as day.

c. Douglas Fireman

Spirit Bird

When you first flew
into my sight, oh spirit bird,
I heard your wings flapping
against a dream-filled sky.

Now, you sit quietly on that crack
in the mountain wall,
your songs heard
only by the dead, and those

who pause long enough
to merge
with your avian
soul.

c. Douglas E. Fireman

As I walked
the dust laden path
toward the source
of who I am,

tears fell freely.
I saluted that noble visage,
apparent stone,
yet bone of my bone;

another ancestor,
living on the heart ridge
now honored
and revered.

c. Douglas Fireman

Original photo taken
in Petra, Jordan.

Shaman In the Garden

Was it a shaman in the dense
underbrush watching me
or just a projection

of my insanity? A grown man
seeing a shaman in a leaf
might make one think,

"what a leap this guys taken
into whacksville. A leaf is a leaf."
Just last week

I saw the Mad Hatter in the bark of a tree,
a maiden on the face of the moon,
the Spanish Armada embedded

in stone, and King Solomon
on the front of a dried mushroom.
So yes,

to some, I'm partially whacked,
but really, I'm just a bloomin
pareidoliac.

c. Douglas Fireman

I found
a scarab beetle

etched in stone

circling round
a labyrinthine
design

It's the center stone
within my labyrinth now

Deepest bows
to Nature's
epigraphy

c. Douglas Fireman

Bearded Wood Sage

"The term pareidolia (pronounced /pæraɪˈdoʊliə/) describes a psychological phenomenon involving a vague and random stimulus (often an image or sound) being perceived as significant. Common examples include seeing images of animals or faces in clouds, the man in the moon, and hearing hidden messages on records played in reverse. The word comes from the Greek para- —"beside", "with" or "alongside...)—and eidolon—"image" (the diminutive of eidos—"image", "form", "shape.")


Gramps could take 'pitchers'
all day with his new
Kodak camera.

He even snuck up on Gramma
and took a pitcher
of her sleepin with her mouth open.

Every week-end
Gramps would take me to the woods
to search for 'crazy shots.'

That's what he called em.
He'd take pitchers of the strangest
things:

like tree bark or a leaf that reminded him
of Abraham Lincoln.
I often thought that Gramps was drinkin

especially when he got down
on all fours and found
that dead tree limb.

Why he grinned wider than a china plate.
"Take a look at this wormspeak," he said.
"undeciphered messages."...

Then Gramps was off again.
Every season we'd traipse
through the forest,

cameras in hand, and when
I'd yell out "Oh look!-
Gramps would come a runnin."

The day I discovered
the Bearded Wood Sage,
Gramps wasn't around any more.

But if he was,
I knew he'd say,
"Look what Dougie's found!"

c. Douglas Fireman

There's an angel inside me
who I must wrestle,
perhaps to be wounded

but never defeated.
Soft whispers awaken me.
My heart

is pounding.
The tiger's back
panting in the prison.

A sudden Rush.
And the sky opens
toward a new dimension.


c. Douglas Fireman

 

Can you see the elephant in stone and its small trainer
just below the elephant's trunk on the right ? Are you able to see
images in stone, wood, clouds, or in a display of shadows
and sunlight on the lawn, in leaves, or within the interlocked branches of a tree, for example?

If so, then you are likely a 'pareidoliac.'

The picture was taken in Petra, Jordan.

This is not a drawing.

I discovered it among the natural rock formations
at Petra, Jordan.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petra

As I walked
the dust laden path
toward the source
of who I am,

tears fell freely.
I saluted that noble visage,
apparent stone,
yet bone of my bone;

another ancestor,
living on the heart ridge
now honored
and revered.

c. Douglas Fireman

Original photo taken
in Petra, Jordan.

Shadows on the leaves.
Look!

A crow having breakfast.

c. Douglas Fireman

It isn't often that one sees
a Lord of Nature
meditating

in the hollow of a tree.
And when I peered
into that private place,

I heard the songs
my grandmother taught me.
She said,

to shut my eyes;
to go inside myself
and listen to the song

of who and what I am.
She taught me
the 'Song of Silence.'

So it struck me,
as I listened mesmerized
to that Lord of Nature

singing silently...
that my wish
since boyhood days

to sing, though not
completely
realized,

was now
closer to the mark
than it has ever been.


c. Douglas Fireman

The configuration of this leaf
reminds me of a Medieval monk
reading a passage he has written
on a piece of parchment.