Author: Marty Luster

Solitary Sailor

To make a long voyage in a small boat

was a quest of mine for many years;

spurred by Slocum, Guzzwell, Chichester and Johnson

I planned my trips to Nova Scotia and beyond.

Though some small sailing adventures I’ve had,

I’ve never left the shore very far behind

and never saw a distant shadow on

the horizon become the outline of a new land.

But the image still appeals to me as I

sit on the heights at Stage Fort Park

and listen to the sea as a solitary

sailor makes his voyage across the harbor.

© Marty Luster 2012

For more picture-poems go to

http://matchedpairs.wordpress.com

 Priva, our eldest grandchild, turned 15 today. Need I say more?

Joe The Woodcarver

Seated by Pavillion Beach, Joe carves each

piece with the care and skill and memories

that more than forty years in Gloucester

have instilled in his mind and in his hands.

With his family sitting near him he lays

out large and small sea- horses, whales

and mermaids while chatting with a stranger

about the sculpted wood now emerging .

He talks about his collection of old photos

and the pictures he has taken with the

camera of his eye,  while his knife fashions

from one of those pictures a fearsome white shark.

From eye to mind to hands to knife, Joe

whittles for each a life by the sea; images

of the world around us and beneath us

as we pass a lovely afternoon on Pavillion Beach.

© Marty Luster 2012

More picture-poems at http://matchedpairs.wordpress.com

 was caught in the cookie bowl Friday at Fred Bodin’s reception?

 Charlee and Marina

 Allen Estes

There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots; the other, wings.

William Hodding Carter Jr.

The hitch-hiker stood up and looked across through the windows. “Could ya give me a lift, mister?”

The driver looked quickly back at the restaurant for a second. “Didn’t you see the No Riders sticker on the win’shield?”
“Sure—I seen it. But sometimes a guy’ll be a good guy even if some rich bastard makes him carry a sticker.”
– John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

Taking Photos on Cape Ann

Like the hummingbird, I flit from one bright spot

to another, sucking  the nectar from deep within.

Like the hummingbird, I appear motionless

just before I take my sustenance from the flower.

Like the hummingbird, I am gone before you see me;

I  leave –  sated with the fullness of my life.

Like the hummingbird, I know my way

and revisit my favorite places.

Like the hummingbird, I am nurtured by

the colors, perfume and sweetness of this garden.

© Marty Luster 2012