Dreams From The Wood Porch
A stirring, of rust colored leaves, rise ethereal with clay dust, as the girl child dances under the hazy sun of the afternoon heat.
Not yet an Angel, gold dipped in sin and prayer; her tinkling laughter is matched by the cicada drone, that beats with hypnotic fervor.
He rocks back and forth ceremoniously on the old porch with solemn and careful watching-
The evening damp strangles and descends the smoke clouded mist from the old man’s pipe, as a whippoorwill hurriedly cuts through the last lazy moment of heat, from the celestial terrace.
He waits in the gathering dark for her to come in, as she moves steadfast and barefoot toward the tall blistered, wood porch.
Laced with secret and smiling, she will lay with thought dreams bathed clean… in star shine.
By- Tommie Flannery Baskis (c.) 2017
I’m my Mother’s shiny girl child when she left me here.
I’m the seed of love from my Father, distant watcher; proud of my growing.
My Grandmother spoke to me on the last hour of her death bed – “Child don’t take money for things undone and things that should not be done”
Boy, don’t you know slippin’ creek is just a stones throw away.
I see you lolling behind, boy-
Slow moving and strong.
I see you there, summer sweat and shadow dark.
Slippin’ creek is just a stones throw
As a child, my Mother told me I had the strength for making up for people’s shortcomings.
So I took off running into the sun of summer, unveiled and barefoot to feel slippin’ creek beneath me; a lithe shadow dancing just a stones throw.
Boy, I see your dark shadow watching just a stone’s throw away-
I see your shadow bright, hiding in the darkest corner, behind that heavy hanging door.
Slippin’ creek is waiting under summer rose moon, dark scent of purple violet and mimosa, candy sweet…
Blackbird flies swift and heavy with secrets to share over slippin’ creek;
Where shadows lie still and illusions speak-
By- Tommie Flannery Baskis (c.) 2016
Marrowbone town is as ancient and orphic as the memory is intimate with secrets.
Light is the same at Marrowbone in the morning as it is at dusk, when the sun and star shine, upon silver sheen fog, reach the eyes.
One will find many treasures and visions among the souls of townsfolk here. You will find them waiting for you among the thorned Honey Locust trees, the sun dusted fields of thistle and vines, the river ferry whose secrets are told slowly and the abandoned places of Marrowbone town. These are the truest places when the moon is still and dreams are carried by dark wings of starlings.
Each season bears the weight of a dark sleep and rebirth called the Great Turning.
This is when the sibylline story is shared with spirit among Marrowbone townsfolk.
The story was carved deep inside, from the dawning, by the hand of…
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“The life that came before us, once was more, than a forgotten dream. It is from this place, that we have come forth.”
I am so excited to be giving a Presentation on ‘The Abandoned Story’ for the Barren County Historical Society, in March of this year 2019.
I have always enjoyed finding ‘a lost story’ among the ruins of abandoned places. There is a mystery, a hidden tale to be unlocked from those things and people that have come before us.
It is like a quiet force that calls to me; to discover what must be seen and understood.
I have a unique perspective and purpose to shine a light upon these things, places and stories. In capturing the silent moment, in an abandoned place with my camera, the dream and vision of what was there before can be brought to light, and experienced again.
In doing this, I hope to share and resurrect the ‘lost story’ that has been forgotten through time.
Through writing and photographing these places on my journeys I hope to keep the story alive, as a reminder for future generations to remember- “The life that came before us, once was more, than a forgotten dream. It is from this place, that we have come forth.”
I would love to…
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