Drawn To It

Photo A.M. Moscoso

When I go out and take pictures of art, the kind of art that people leave on the sides of walls and in bus stop shelters and sometimes on the sidewalk I don’t know what I’m hoping to see.

I guess I’m looking for a story.

I guess I’m looking for answers, for inspiration, maybe even a little mystery.

In the message left behind by the artists I guess I’m looking for my own way to be heard.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Daily Post Prompt: Magnet

You Can Stop It Anita Marie- right now!

Self Portrait A.M. Moscoso

“Her eyes are so dark ”

my Grandmother used to say.

” I wonder what goes on behind them when her back is turned, when she thinks lost in thought and I’m looking the other way ”

“Her thoughts are so dark ”

my Father used to say.

‘ I wonder where they come from, where they go when she thinks I’m lost

in thought and I’m looking the other way.”

Self Portrait A.M. Moscoso

My eyes are dark

and so  are my thoughts

as you know

Grandma and Dad

they followed down into your graves

like so many others

when no one was looking, no one was thinking

and they were looking the other way.

 

Daily Prompt: Cringe

Echo Was Here

Photo A.M. Moscoso

I used to visit my friend here- my dog Sham is buried under the trees.

My friend died, her Mom moved away years ago.

Sham is even gone, I suppose

Photo A.M. Moscoso

I used to play in the woods here, I won my first fist fight here, smoked my first cigarette here.

It’s all gone now.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

I was here, once upon a time.

Now I’m just an echo, waiting to be heard.

The Storm

Photo A.M.Moscoso

Sometimes the most important

words

that

we hear,

that we speak,

that we write

are

the ones hardest

to

find, to create, to say

when there is a storm

inside of your head

 

amm