West Texas In Music And Photography

This was sent to me by a high school friend in Houston.  Turn up the sound and enjoy this work of music and nature photography! 

Wyman Meinzer's West Texas from Wyman Meinzer on Vimeo.

Magpie Tales 91: Table For One

 Photo provided by Tess Kincaid

waitress 

she stood at your 

table for one, 

waiting for the music

to begin, waiting 

for you to take 

her hand, waiting 

'til the guests had gone

and orchestra 

silent: 

it was closing time 

and there were 

no tables left

upon which to 

stack the

chairs. 

Poem ©2011 R. Burnett Baker 


Note:  This painting that Tess provided this week also reminded me of a song titled "Closing Time."  Now this title has been used for songs by Semisonic, Matchbox20, Tom Waits, and as a song performed by Leonard Cohen.  But my favorite is by Lyle Lovett, featured as the last song on his "Live In Texas" album.  I'm not posting the video here, but just the YouTube link if anyone cares to venture a listen...
http://youtu.be/o80pVLDDJh4

Rain Dance

rain dance 

bird becomes 

tree 

becomes 

wood 

for kindling

we dance for 

rain 

and fly in 

fear

to dampen the

fires 

of need with

prayer. 

It was a piece of wood I found along a dirt road in the once beautiful, but now deadly dry hills of Central Texas last month.  To me it looked like a bird.  Birds, I'm told, are quite scarce in that part of the country these days, due to drought and dwindling food sources.  So I picked it up and saved it.  I held it up with one hand to the dusk sky as if to make it fly, and took pictures with the other hand.  There's really nothing else one can do... 

Poem © 2011 R. Burnett Baker 

Photo© 2011 R. Burnett Baker 

Photo taken by R. Baker at Lake Buchanan, Texas, October 2011.

On The Scene

poseur




always 
that shadow side
of my being
watches behind 
without eyes, 
a graysoul memory
of  sullen-heart
evenings. 


perfunctory smiles 
above a beet-purple 
soul garnish my 
eyes like weapons 
of a hunter's quill.  I pose 


that male-model pose,
both sides of my 
questioning demeanor 
answered in palettes 
of muted 
color. 




Poem ©2011 R. Burnett Baker 
Painting by Ina Jean Garner, 1970's.  Acrylic on canvas, 24 X 36.  From the collection of Sharon Jean Garner, Houston, Texas.  

And Outside The Window...

Deep into Autumn, I sat this night in my office at home, and in the light outside the window movement and color caught my eye.  Leaves have gathered and danced their last across nature, grass has captured the white stories of frozen dew, and the rose bushes have shed leaves, with thorns naked and unyielding.

But there it was.  There it is.  A rose.  Defiance and beauty to capture life, and my eye.  One last rose pushing on and telling one last tale of birth amongst the dying, and the legacy of simply being.

legacy 

it bore frost in early morning 

gathered what little sunlight 

diminished days gave for free 

and even in a night of November 

red life burns and fragrance 

twinkles in the eye of this beholder; 

the rose, the rose 

wanting its season 

unfolding to defy the turnings of 

hours, weeks, and expectations; 

the rose in a night of November 

carries on with living alone in 

darkness and pleased to 

be so. 

Poem ©2011 R. Burnett Baker 

Photo©2011 R. Burnett Baker 

Photo taken at home by R. Baker, November 7, 2011. 

Random Thought

"A backward glance 

is all it takes to realize

regret is a reflection of 

inherent defect." 

- R. Baker

©2011 R. Burnett Baker

Journeys

canyon wide 




those days were sheltered by 
dreams and pregnant with 
potential.  we shed tears for 
the past, for the fears of our 
being; we sealed our common
bond to the hurt of longing. 


but those fears, pangs of 
suspense and insecurities 
ruled the moment, and future.
there were pasts that needed to 
be purged, but how, within the
absolute quantification of being? 


how do we reveal what need not
be known except by only one?
beyond probings - the unrevealing of 
knowledge - probings again, and 
imagined pasts that did not, and 
do not exist, enough was 
enough.  


there are voices choking to shout
across the canyon of what was 
foretold, but depth is deep, 
width is wide.  echos, loud and 
shrill are exhausted, and the path
begs for sleep. 


Poem ©2011 R. Burnett Baker