ellyssian: (Default)
Went on a hike with Justin today, and some photos happened along the way:

Susquehanna Heritage Trail


More under the cut... )

If you want to browse all of the photos from today, they start here and go left, toward the train.
ellyssian: (Default)
Two new sets of photos from two different nature preserves run by the Lancaster Conservancy are posted over on Flickr.

Yesterday, we were at Tucquan Glen ~ that set starts here (and move away from the photos of the LGT's headlights to see the rest of the set!).

Today's set from Belleaire Woods starts immediately after the Tucquan Glen set, right here.

Photos of the kids in both sets, photos of me in the Belleaire set.
ellyssian: (sphinx)
Originally posted by [profile] greenmanenvy_fd at In Deep / When the Ocean was a Forest

In Deep

In Deep, 2008





When the Ocean was a Forest

By Everett A Warren

When the ocean was a forest, I was but a child,
I was but a young lass, when the ocean was a forest.
When the ocean was a forest, full of trees,
The sea without its waves, I was but a young girl.


When the ocean was a forest, ferns and trees,
I was then a young lass, when the ocean was a forest.

Each hundred years flown past, to the sea I return,
In the waves I must be bathe'd, each hundred years flown past.
Each hundred years flown past, to the shore I walk,
In the waters I am bathe'd, and I am young once more.


Each hundred years flown past, in the waters I must bathe,
Before bird or beast does speak, each hundred years flown past.

Upon the road I stop, cradling a life so dear,
Holding life within my hands, upon the road I stop.
Upon the road I stop, and I give them warmth,
Hold them as their life departs, with injuries so grave.


Upon the road I stop, as their soul departs,
My tears turn to stone, dripping grey rock upon the road.

I will be young once more, waves upon the stones,
Once I have bathe'd in the water, I will be young once more.
I will be young once more, as the tide pulls out before me,
I will bathe in the sea, and have my youth restored.


I will be young once more, when the seas have washed me clean,
In the tides my years wash 'way, I will be young once more.

It's early that the dog did speak, in advance of me,
The dog, in advance of me; It's early that the dog did speak.
It's early that the dog did speak, in advance of me,
In the quiet of the morning, on the ocean shore.


When the ocean was a forest, I was but a child,
I was then a young lass, when the ocean was a forest.
Each hundred years flown past, in the waters I must bathe,
Before bird or beast does speak, each hundred years flown past.


But it was early that the dog did speak, in advance of me,
The dog, in advance of me, as I crumbled before the tide.



Copyright © 2013 Everett A Warren











ellyssian: (sphinx)
Originally posted by [profile] greenmanenvy_fd at Martian Puppy Dog / Extrovert

Martian Puppy Dog

Martian Puppy Dog, 2006





Extrovert

By Everett A Warren

Skyward
Eyes upon the heavens
For the flash of life
Beyond may lie a universe
And there may your hopes reside
Pray for the grinding of thermal emissions
A light far off glimpsed between the cloudbanks
Whereby it may be claimed that Others arc along the sky
So conquered
Flight lies in the past forgotten
More is sought
Heights unfathomed
Man has broken ground and soars on tenuous wings
How weak they become
Under the light of the sun
Cries forever drift into the night
Seeking higher sights
A reason and a method must bend the world to a will
How far past the truth
Mankind's Wise do range
Humanocentric thought
Answers so limited render nothing
Grave moments of silence fall as though a dream must fail
Projecting outward
The truth lies hidden
The inner strength is lost
Unacknowledged frontiers
Where strange thoughts play in the fabric of all life




























Copyright © 1992 Everett A Warren



Although I'm sure you realize our little Martian puppy dog up there is not, in fact, from the planet Mars, you may be curious, and wondering exactly what he really is. He is a Sphinx eremitus, a hermit sphinx moth caterpillar. But with that wagging tail, I'm sure he looks exactly like puppy dogs on Mars look. I mean, after all, he is green...









ellyssian: (sphinx)
Originally posted by [profile] greenmanenvy_fd at The Grave of Dead Tanis / dreams in the mist

The Grave of Dead Tanis

The Grave of Dead Tanis, 2006





dreams in the mist

By Everett A Warren

ghost world
mists walk with me
hung in suspension
bathing with their breath
stained glass skies
framed by branching contortions
forest floor limned
moss, leaf, and fallen limb
crystals of ice encrusted
dreams flitter away
through minds of pre-dawn sleepers
seeking release, freedom of a thawing sky
sun melts away
the tendrils
Earth-bound no longer
and they know this
as they know deeper, darker truths
but in this drifting gray the sun has faded
cackling with madness, ripe with desire
dreams wander, untethered to a soul
yet held fast to the waking world
and there I walk, in their midst
calling to wayward thoughts
offering shelter for lonely dreams
until night cloaks the world
or dawn, delayed, arrives


























Copyright © 2004 Everett A Warren



This poem can be found in the collection Poetry from the Porch Period,
available via the publisher or from Amazon.com
or on order from your local bookstore!









ellyssian: (Default)
Originally posted by [profile] greenmanenvy_fd at Waverly Oaks Sycamore / Of Seasons

Waverly Oaks Sycamore

Waverly Oaks Sycamore 2005





Of Seasons

By Everett A Warren

Winds forever blowing
A fade to a chill
Leaves upon the ground
A silent blanket upon the world
Speaking of seasons



Trees lay bared
Souls lie open to ponder
Restless they shake their limbs
For grey they will remain in despair
Whispering of seasons



Rains may echo
Falling slower
Damp beads shine and glimmer
In diffusion the light of full moon
Measuring of seasons



Restless sighing
In caverns of Heart
Forging new worlds to wander
Yet lost in the memories long past
Dreaming of seasons





Copyright © 1992 Everett A Warren











ellyssian: (Default)
Originally posted by [profile] greenmanenvy_fd at With Long Boney Fingers... / The Spell of Jack O' Lantern

With Long Boney Fingers...

With Long Boney Fingers... 2008





The Spell of Jack O' Lantern

By Everett A Warren

With the chill of the night air
comes the fear that he shall return;
Dried corn stalks without the gleaming bones
line the paths he walks,
grinning ear to ear,
as in his heart evil wyrms churn.




Come the harvest moon and the flurry of falling leaves
comes the fear that he shall reap what we have sown;
Cried our tears and left them out to dry
up to the windowsill he stalks,
plucking them up like roasted seeds
upon which he feeds – if they please him, he shall leave us alone.




As the midnight bell tolls
over the fields he rides;
Firelight like autumn leaves flickering in his eyes,
the only warmth he'll ever show,
dancing in the darkness and blood,
as his world and ours collides.




With a creak of a door in the dark of night
comes the fear that has become real;
Soft footfalls upon the stairs,
like whispers of the ravens wing,
silencing the blood in a poor soul's veins,
quiet, now, the night, as the final bells peal.




So heed this warning, for in the waning months
comes the fear that each year he returns;
Bitter winds and silent cries
are all that he leaves behind,
fallen leaves and fallen lives
fuel the fires that, in our dreams, he burns.






Copyright © 2004 Everett A Warren



This poem can be found in the collection Poetry from the Porch Period,
available via the publisher or from Amazon.com
or on order from your local bookstore!









ellyssian: (Default)
Originally posted by [profile] greenmanenvy_fd at Graceful / seasons wane

Graceful

Graceful, 2008





seasons wane

By Everett A Warren

words drift downward
like leaves
dancing with gravity
somewhere between laughter and tears


whispers cling tenaciously
like mists
obscuring tomorrows
somewhere between hope and despair


offerings
of light and love
filter through the trees
sunbeams that flicker and fade
elusively retreating with each step



what does darkness bring as seasons wane
like dreams
upon the waking
somewhere between sunshine and falling rain




Copyright © 2004 Everett A Warren



This poem can be found in the collection Poetry from the Porch Period,
available via the publisher or from Amazon.com
or on order from your local bookstore!









ellyssian: (sphinx)
Originally posted by [profile] greenmanenvy_fd at The Wind Can Not Win / The Wind Remembers from Whence it Came

The Wind Can Not Win

The Wind Can Not Win, 2008





The Wind Remembers from Whence it Came

By Everett A Warren

The wind comes through the trees
and sighs softly in an aside as it stirs fallen leaves
who no more it's way obscure;
bare tree bones tremble and shake and bow their leafless crowns
but not so low as they had of old, for, although they no longer catch the wind up
in green grasp, the wind finds it no easy task to pull boughs down.
The wind, if it were of lesser kind, perhaps would feel thwarted,
but the wind is the breath of the clouds who are the mists of mighty waterfalls,
and the wind remembers from whence it came;
from sunlight descended and leaves assembled,
through heartwood descended and through the roots transcended,
until once more leaves release it, cleansed, to the sky ascended.
The fallen leaves rustle, brought low by the wind, to shelter
and blanket the Earth before the snows;
for the wind remembers from whence it came.















Copyright © 2004 Everett A Warren



This poem can be found in the collection Poetry from the Porch Period,
available via the publisher or from Amazon.com
or on order from your local bookstore!









ellyssian: (Default)
I may not have announced it here, but here is what it's all about:

There's going to be a lot more going on around these here parts.

I'm going to tie my LJ account in to my personal website, everettawarren.com, and use it to help promote my:

1) business support contracting services (web, programming, writing, editing, photography)
2) writing (poetry, short fiction, books, whatever else comes along)
3) music (several things in the works)

... and so on.

The posts with the "evsite" tag will be pulled for the frame on the site; I'll probably do something similar with the poetry and writing tags.

I expect that I'll be adding more posts intended for the site ~ which means writing about what I'm doing creatively (which I've always done here) and maybe a bit about technology (it's been a while since I discussed programming!) and business topics ~ but I'm also likely to start adding other content once I start showing up here for more than a quick read of what everyone else is writing... who knows, I may even get back in the habit of commenting again!
ellyssian: (Default)
I hadn't really expected to take all those photos on the hike today.

If I hadn't been talking with Stacy for the first part of the walk, I wouldn't have thought of it at all. At some point very early on, I realized I wanted her to see the ice on the rocks and the waterfalls and all and I wondered why I have yet to bring the camera on the hike. At some point shortly past that, I remembered the phone had a camera, so while Stacy focused on work, I focused on some shots along the canal path.

Still, it's a camera phone, so some day, I will still have to bring a camera along with me. Ideally, I'll bring Stacy along, too!

We ate lunch together, a hundred miles apart, thanks to the wonders of cellular phones and web cams. After the meal, I was treated to a Food Network style show, wherein I watched as she started the soup for tonight's dinner.

The entire time, I teased her about seeing her in a few hours, and that she should bring up some of the soup when she comes to visit.

And then, after ending the call with her so she can get back to work, I find out that I have some work: a bit of tree work! Justin's going to help me check out the saws (it doesn't sound that involved, so it should be okay that the chains were dulled by that concrete-filled tree last year...) and get the truck ready, and then I'm on my way!
ellyssian: (Default)
A bit late, but I neglected to post these on the 20th ~ I uploaded them along with the driveway plowing pics I did post here, I guess I got distracted before doing a second post with these.

Anywho, a bit of Kissmas cookies under construction and after:

Cookies!

More under the cut... )
ellyssian: (Default)
I don't know what it is about a bit of ice and a stream, but I just love to look at the formations that result from a bit of water splatter and cold temperatures.

Here are some shots of the Rachel River* from earlier in December:

The Rachel River

More and larger under the cut... )

As always, click on any shot to see it over on Flickr. Comments over there are especially welcome! =)

Crossposted to [livejournal.com profile] naturesbeauty and me own journal.

* The runoff along the front edge of our property.
ellyssian: (Default)

Side View
Originally uploaded by ellyssian
Cotton Candy roof (it flattened out since Thursday... kinda looks more like snow?), PEZ masonry chimney, a front walk paved in gold...

Click through the pic for a handful more, along with possibly correct attributions for most of the details.
ellyssian: (Default)

Her Tears Tasted of the River Acheron
by Everett A Warren

an excerpt




Her tears tasted of the River Acheron.

That gave me pause. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt such loneliness, such overbearing sadness. A subtle humour that, considering I live in a cemetery, but there you have it.

Now don’t go thinking I’m one of those boggarts or dweomerfale that feed off of that sort of thing, no, not at all! but when those tears spread across the surface of the pond like oil, coloured in a rainbow of agony and pain, I did feel a pang. Story is what I’m after, you see, and sorrow that deep has a tale to tell.

There are stories that tell of walking on water, and I was nearly needy enough to bolt straightaways over that tainted surface, but I held myself back for two reasons. First off, she was in a fragile state, and a forthright charge would do nothing to set her at ease. Even if she didn’t run, she’d not be likely to speak freely of dark secrets, now would she? No story would have meant no reason to rush to her in the first place – not that she’d know that – and I’m sure that if I went fleetly flying over the rippling waters, it would have her thinking all sorts of nasty things were about to occur, and she’d be downright uncommunicative. Not only that, but the second reason for not running the waves is even simpler.

I would sink like a rock.

~ ~ ~



I felt as if someone was watching me. Through the tears, the pond, the trees, the crypts, and the monuments blended and blurred, like an impressionistic painting. Perhaps if I had tried to focus, to wipe my eyes, even just to blink… but I didn’t really feel it was worth the effort.

Didn’t feel much of anything, really.

Distant.

Like the eyes on me.

Did Van Gogh paint crypts? The one across the way, done with dashes of still-wet paint, held staring eyes. Dead eyes – no, undead eyes, I mused. Vampires, werewolves, and zombies, oh my. Or maybe a psychotic killer behind a headstone, who picked out the perfect prey – blinded by the tears in her eyes. On any other day, those kind of thoughts would drive me away. No sanctuary when you’ve got one eye peeled for madmen with axes and chainsaws and another on the lookout for gypsies and thieves, the third firmly fixed on chimeras and dragons that are feeling a nagging rumbling in their supernal bellies.

This particular day, though, no matter what weird creature might come by to grind my bones to make some bread, it would be my sanctuary.

It was the best I had on short notice, so it would have to do.

That, and, although I wasn’t exactly suicidal, if a serial killer or other monster stepped out from behind a tree and asked for a volunteer to be his victim, I’d be the first to raise my hand.

Yeah. So maybe a little suicidal.

“Hey,” I called out, throwing myself back on the perfectly manicured lawn, arms and legs spread wide, “Take me, I’m yours.”

Yeah. Overly dramatic, too.


Copyright (c) 2006 Everett Ambrose Warren

ellyssian: (Default)

And a Heron in a Pine Tree
Originally uploaded by ellyssian.
A number of pictures from the recent visit to Mount Auburn Cemetery are now posted over on Flickr - click on the picture to see more of them.

This first one captures a great blue heron in a pine tree - it escaped there when we started it along the pond edge. A number of reasonably good pictures resulted, but, sadly, we were not able to get close enough for a really great picture.

Of course, I feel that the tree it is perched in is very beautiful even without the feathered ornamentation...

Profile

ellyssian: (Default)
Everett

July 2014

S M T W T F S
  12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
2728293031  

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags