All works copyrighted and previously published by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. Hello from Lola. And Happy Halloween. My kids are excited about trick-or-treat tonight: Candy, candy, candy. While I break from making finishing touches on their costumes, I am posting some of my poems and stories for Halloween. I am the new person here
Night falls swiftly on us— our lives are a flash in the sinking sun, ten thousand years of rebounded vibrations— I call it life but you call it hell. You steer my sight to the setting sun and tell me that it’s evening for us all— the night is silence: no more color, no Hawaiian
By now you know I love mountains. They are beautiful to look at and dangerous to be on. Sometimes the best beauty is viewed at from afar. And sometimes beauty must be seen up close. Beauty is found indoors. Sometimes we trek many miles looking for beauty. Beauty is everywhere, day
Another out-of-focus sunset snapshot. Despite its technical flaws, I love this photograph—the golds and reds are fading and the darkening blues speak of the promise of night and the solitude there. That’s where the artist is most at home: alone with herself but never lonely.
A cabin of mine in southwest New York.
Wow! 9 weeks have passed already. Crabs— What would the 4th of July be without a night at the beach, watching fireworks and eating crab around a fire? You know you’re from the seacoast if that’s how you spend the holiday. The crab photo here was taken during a hunt at Key West, Florida. For
Night in the city has a strange sound—the way ice speaks before it melts and pools down, rushes gutters, rages rivers on its interwoven streets to somewhere, past everyone in and out of the shadows at night. The night watchers look on in judgment—not of the melted ice but of each other on their interwoven
Night falls swiftly on us— It is the secret bits of life to do yourself the way you do— A flash in the sinking sun, Ten thousand years rebounded, Vibrations— It is hell. Wild you are but ripe for life In the gray and raging glee— Nobody likes to die, but it is evening here
Rain wakes me; it strikes against curtained glass like the nails of something evil wanting to come inside. I seek peace atop two pillows a kiss away from each other; your picture and a bottle of Jim Beam Black watch over me in the swoon of the night. Soft chills shiver though my body seeking
Goofing around on my computer with a graphics program. Love how blurry the picture is. Brings out the cold really well!
Night in the city has a strange sound The way roof ice speaks before it melts Pools down Rushes gutters Raises the river’s rage below me Melted ice flows over my boot tops Down interwoven streets with city signs that claim they take us to Homes Schools Businesses Somewhere Anywhere Everywhere that is nowhere to