Poppies

Poppies

red-dressed damsels

fluttering petal fans

swaying sweet summer melodies

at dawn.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

Cheap Thrills

Knives - painting by Andy Warhol

Cheap Thrills

And so you are a razor wit

cutting slashing 

through meat and mire

relentlessly

searching for laughs.

I chuckle along

through gritted teeth

because I'm never sure

of your aim 

or purpose

and I don't want to bleed

for your enjoyment.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

Clandestine Love

Boats Leaving the Harbor - painting by Claude Monet

Clandestine Love

What if we meet on sparkling waters
just before end of day
in sailboats side by side
gliding never touching
in a clandestine ballet
our secret safe
with only white-tipped splashes
against wood-planked sides
to telegraph our love
in exciting ripples
only we can see.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

September Issue Word Catalyst

The September edition of Word Catalyst is up, and it is one of our finest issues, including a moving tribute to 911, lest we forget. All is not doom and gloom in this issue, however, lots of columns, poems, essays, stories, artwork, and photography. Don't forget to read my column, Tales of Whisper Gap, this month entitled "The Lady in Green."

The Lady in Green

She pursed tiny skittish lips, painted scarlet to join rebellious forces with her luxurious auburn hair. White gloves cloaked the lady's long curved fingers--one could imagine screeching red nails under the cloth; and she wore a green satin dress, shining, shimmering, wrapping the girl in sumptuous folds that insisted, nonetheless, on clinging to her curves. With one shoulder laid bare in defiance, a wide-brimmed hat bellowed her uniqueness to the world. In quiet contrast, it shadowed half her face. But when one eye peeked out, it shot tragic bullets. Read more.

Life Undisciplined

Jungle Sunset - painting by Henri Rousseau


Life undisciplined
Unruly, punctuated
by serene moments
dressed with soft flower buttons
sewn on green woven
noisy jungle platitudes.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

In the Sphere

Hands with Sphere by M.C. Escher

The psychic's leathery hand lifted her crystal ball high, suspending it above my face. Her charm bracelet jingled as it slipped down toward her elbow, and that lady's thin, veined arm trembled under the weight. But I barely noticed as the vision in the sphere shot electric bolts to my psyche. The old man was there.

Just as I remembered, his eyes glared straightforward as if recognizing me through the vapors. Those orbs pulsated with insane gestures, fire, wind, a host of biblical plagues. But I left him behind years ago. Nonetheless, in the glass sphere he blared larger than life. The shoddy, wrinkled brown suit remained the same; the same old ugly beard brushed against his chest and his brow still made furrows across his forehead with each fevered breath.

He sat in the usual place, surrounded by dusty old books, the ones he said gave him superiority over other humans who were not so well read. I could spy the day's soft light powdering through a faraway window. No doubt it would soon feel out of place in the esoteric cauldron he called home. What purpose did light and life serve in those dingy surroundings. Surely the sun would gather up its ballerina rays and make a hasty retreat soon.

"Ach, the ball, it is too heavy," Helena the psychic said, snatching it from my view to lay the globe on a cloth-draped table nearby. She rubbed her wrist and stared at me with childish eyes. "Did you see what you wanted to see?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I saw insanity-personified. I saw... ." I paused. No, I could not tell her. I could not tell her I saw myself. I was supposed to be cured now. That old man was supposed to be gone. But he lurks, waiting. I know that now.


Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

That Package

That Package from Easy Street Prompts


That package
arrived wrapped with brown paper
soiled with abstractions
in screaming shapes and forms,
an abomination of masking tape
criss-crossed in confusion.
The whole thing
left me breathless
because I knew you wrapped it
cursing my name.


Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

The Loner

People in the Sun by Edward Hopper



The Loner

I went to sunny climes
and ignored the light.

In my worn satchel I carried a book,
an old tome
I had since high school,
its leather cover scarred and tested
like me.
I'd never read it
merely carried it as I traveled through life,
and it got knocked and bumped along with me.

We sat on rickety wood chairs
and faced the sun
white-skinned and lacking flavor.
Our chairs were lined up
likes pews in church.
Hopeful faces pointed upward
to the preacher man sun
hoping he would fill souls
by coloring faces,
making them beautiful people,
tanned, vivacious,
people of verve and grace and wonder.

I stuck my head
in the book instead
since I'd brought it
hoping rather to find enlightenment
among chapters and verses
describing other people's lives
as if it would rub off on mine.
I thought it could.
I read
and found the book merely reiterated
where we'd already been together,
this book and I,
same lessons, same life, different colors.

My face burned anyway but unlike the others
I saw no value to it
and it hurt.
That was when I decided
to stay home next time
and read my book in the shade
alone.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

Dreams Gone Black

Fanned Out by Charles Dana Gibson

Dreams Gone Black

Thunder faces, hearts in despair
it's over, no more games to play.
So lost, so sad, pure angst laid bare
Earth spins out an unnoticed day
as we sit, motionless display.
Fanned out, our field of dreams gone black.
Waiting for another game day
Sitting here until it comes back.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

A huitain contains 8 lines, 8 syllables per line
Rhyme Scheme ababbcbc

The Nooning

The Nooning by Winslow Homer



The Nooning*

Ants run
on dirty plates
tossed on summer green grass
while Mom's wash fans boyish rumbles
at noon.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski


*Nooning -- a rest or meal at noon

Two Strikes

Two Strikes by Charles Dana Gibson


Summer heat, good old boys, two strikes in the ninth
peanut vapors, gritty vibes, cacophonous uproar
beery stenches tickle fate, sweat forms on the brow
Cross your heart, clench your fists, come on bring it home!
beery stenches tickle fate, sweat forms on the brow
peanut vapors, gritty vibes, cacophonous uproar
Summer heat, good old boys, two strikes in the ninth


Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

Empty

The Music Room by Vilhelm Hammershoi

Empty

Empty of dulcet chords of love
fast drawn curtains deny day's light.
Clouds roam kissing edges above.
You've gone and thus defines my plight.
Music transformed to filmy night,
a sad crystallized existence.
My whimsical heart closed up tight
awaiting with love's persistence.


Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

A huitain contains 8 lines, 8 syllables per line
Rhyme Scheme ababbcbc

Kicking Up

Image credit: Rick Mobbs - my four sisters


Kicking Up

Storms gather
with tides nipping shore
but sisters know how to swim
dancing in rushing waves together
kicking up inspiration
that way sisters do
holding hands.


Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

Trapped

In the Black Circle by Wassily Kandinsky



Trapped

Trapped in your circle
smoked by nihilistic doom
abstract emptiness
loaded with discordant sounds
of obtuse hunger
while fragmented splotches roam
gruesome moving forms
plotting to seize my being
smothering ego
total assimilation
ignominious defeat.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

Blinded

The Night Window by Edward Hopper


Blinded

I lie sprawled on concrete
like an alley cat
looking to the stars
my body iced
by frozen concentration
and Jack Daniels
eyes zigzagging the skies
like jet rockets
looking for recognition.
But my supine image
is cast in darkness by your glare
of normalcy
blasting from an electric high tech tower
hovering above me.
I'm nullified by your bombardment
and Technicolor grand-standing.
While in the meantime
I'm amazed by your oblivion.
Are you're blinded by your own bright lights?
I wish you'd keep them to yourself
so I can enjoy the stars.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

Five-O'Clock Tea

Five O'Clock Tea by Mary Cassatt



Five-O'Clock Tea

She called me to her lair for tea
purring, preening, she licks her sleeve
and looks with lost brown eyes to me.
She called me to her lair for tea.
I'm sure I must, I should, just flee.
I must make plans, plans to soon leave.
She called me to her lair for tea
purring, preening, she licks her sleeve.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

The triolet has 8 lines in the rhyming scheme abaaabab. The first two lines (ab) and the last two lines(ab) are the same, as well as the first line and the fourth.

Photographing Dogs and Other Small Animals

Our pets, warm and cuddly, bursting with cuteness, why wouldn't you want a photo of your little honey to show others or to perch on your desk in a nice frame. But where to begin. How do you get a technically good picture and one that depicts your dog's personality?


First, the setting. As usual, outdoors with open shade is preferable to sunny glare or indoors, where a flash going off presents a whole new problem of "red eye," or in a dog's case, blue or even green eye. If you must do the photo indoors, use a digital camera so you can take it to Photoshop easily and paint out the blue or green lights. The prepackaged "red eye" fix that comes with your camera software won't work on blue or green eye glare.


Some technical considerations. Choose a background that contrasts with the animal. Or use a telephoto lens which will let you blur the background. You want the animal to stand out as much as possible. Also, the exposure itself can be problematic. A very dark animal will require some overexposure to maintain details in the fur. A white animal is better under-exposed to keep its fur from be washed out.


Next, how to photograph your pet--there are a couple different options. Squirmy, fidgeting dogs aren't easy to settle down for a portrait. You may choose to photograph the animal with a family member who can control it. If you prefer the dog alone, try offering your pooch a favorite toy to keep him occupied. Whichever you choose, the next step is to get your animal's attention while you click the shutter. Use a squeaky toy, held just behind the camera, to make the dog look up.


Also, move in close. Fill the frame with your pet. Furnishings or background are not part of this story. Your pet is. So get in there and make this picture all about him. Keep your camera at eye level with the dog. You want to be down where he lives. You'll probably have to get on your knees. Make eye contact, or use the squeaky toy. Try a variety of shots, too. Think like an artist to bring out your dog's personality, looking for characteristic gestures, postures, and nuances that describe your dog.


If you photograph in digital, it won't cost you anything to take lots of shots. Even if you're using film, isn't it worth a few pennies to shoot lots of angles and try every idea? So indulge yourself, make up your mind to get a great portrait; and most importantly, treasure this special event with your animal. Our animals are with us a very short time, and a good pet portrait will be loved forever.


Copyright 2007 JO Janoski

Whisper

Head of a Boy by Peter Paul Rubens



Whisper soft songs surround your face
with baby lace
lullaby dreams
innocence streams

Whose child is this white powder rose
in soft repose
sugar breaths fill
puffs airy still

My world made quiet, wondrous, clear
one joyful tear
to spy your face
and feel your grace.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

A Minute Poem:
Three stanzas of 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4 syllables. The rhyme scheme is as follows:
aabb
ccdd
eeff

Walking Through Wearing Black

Lady in Black on a Park Bench by Bernhard Gutmann

Walking through wearing black
I've grown accustomed to this place.
The walls are dim
neutralizing
and the ambient light grayer still.
I add to it,
gladly spreading misery.
The only glimmer comes in white light giggles
that trickle in from outside
cascading, bouncing off walls
like recalcitrant children
playing tag.
But I halt their frolic
when, one by one, they bump into me.
My black cloak sucks their idiotic smiling faces in
like a black hole
eats up stars.
We'll have no giggling light
when I'm about.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

Life Maximus

Wave by Katsushika Hokusai

Surf exuberant
dancing pie-in-the-sky dreams
jockeying water
knowing the unknowable
spying beyond today's shores.

Copyright 2008 JO Janoski

(Tanka, no rhyme necessary.
Syllables per line: 5,7,5,7,7)