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The Power of Reading and Knights Manifesting.
I remember sitting on the couch with my mom.
Listening and imagining every word of her story.
It was about a young man who lived in a magical world.
The man had a special gift.
He could fight.
He was destined to live through many great adventures.
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JJFBbennett Art Directory
Contemporary Positional Video Art and Socio-Fictional Writings
It is about being creative and innovative with knowledge
We’re small. Tiny, really; essentially imperceptible splashes of color on a canvas that stretches across a universe of maybes and potentials and threatens to never end - but, damn it, don’t you understand how beautiful you are? I know I can’t see this whole canvas (it’d be overwhelming if I could..) but even a peek is enough to send me spiraling from speechless wonder to misunderstood conceptions of insignificance.
(Do I even matter?)
And then I look at you. I see how magnificently your color contrasts with the canvas behind you and I wonder if, maybe, without us, monochromatic would weep.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; poem 124
I think it's my responsibility to remind you that, here in the fog, everything looks the same and all we have to keep us together are fingertips.
But I'll use mine to tap promises into your palms on every step, just in case you start to forget.
#sweeterpoetry
Unwritten, Unsent; poem 66
I've been reading back through old poems lately, and realizing that so many things now make sense.
Like the way that I felt here but couldn't articulate, because I didn't realize how special it was; and the dreams that I had but couldn't explain; because I didn't know how to admit them to myself.
And also the fact that I'll never be able to describe this. But I don't think I want to anymore.
Just being here is a gift.
Thank you.
#sweeterpoetry
Hummingbird Pulse; poem 60
|| Crossing borders again tomorrow after 3 weeks on familiar soil. City and Colour concert in Canada, here we come! ||
You love the way letters melt into the words we use to describe dreams.
And now I can no longer write.
#sweeterpoetry
Hummingbird Pulse; poem 58
We're working harder than ever but getting further behind.
Our efforts have intensified as we strive to achieve more.
Despite our increased dedication, we find ourselves falling further back.
We are putting in more hours and energy than before.
Our commitment to the task has strengthened, yet our progress is lagging.
The intensity of our work has risen, but our distance from the goal is increasing.
Although we exert more effort, we're still moving away from our objectives.
We've ramped up our work ethic, but we're not making the desired advancements.
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JJFBbennett Art Directory
Contemporary Positional Video Art and Socio-Fictional Writings
It is about being creative and innovative with knowledge
I keep hearing things in pen-scratches, and feeling things in melodies.
So I sat and tried to write them, but all I achieved were the harmonies. No matter how many layers I write, they can't sing the melody - but even that is caged unless I try.
You see, I've begun to write again. And now I can't seem to stop. #sweeterpoetry
|| Leaving the PNW and family tonight to begin traveling down to Buenos Aires again. First stop: Lima. (After 9 hours in the Houston airport, that is..) It's going to be a wild ride. ||
I wrote my very first poem about the color blue. The way it shone, what it comprised, I'm not even really sure what I wrote anymore. But that poem was me uninhibitedly writing because words called me, before discouragement overwhelmed desire.
Blue is embracing words with a childlike neglect for anything the world might tell me. Blue is inspiration and silliness wrapped into simple lines. Blue is refusing to let go of this dream. And blue is beautiful. #sweeterpoetry
If I somehow forget that beauty exists, remind me of this place. And if I feel chained to this land and unable to roam free, remind me that it was here my heart learned how to fly. #sweeterpoetry
|| Salar de Uyuni today was absolutely sublime. I can't put it into words. Well, I haven't tried yet. But seeing as how we're leaving tomorrow, my blog post is up!! Check out chroniclesofdts.com for a few more sneak peek photos before they're posted ||
No matter where I am, this earth mocks me. It mocks me with hopelessness like the fraying string of a kite, bitterness like the tree’s sharp embrace, and pain like the brokenness felt with every inch of the fall.
I've been wandering this land too long. Stuck. To the point where, even up here, floating, the sky feels too far away. I feel no closer to those stars nor to the dreams I ascribe to them.
They are out of my reach.
But someday, I will fly.
(Today.)
#sweeterpoetry
Hummingbird Pulse; poem 106
326.365
You see, I once wrote the silence. I dipped my pen in raindrop memories and let then run into one another on the window of my page, building into something tangible...
I wrote silence's secrets into metaphors and synonyms, both hiding and hoping you'd read them and understand what I could never say.
#sweeterpoetry
|| on my way to Patagonia in 5 hours, to spend the next 9 days on glaciers and in mountains. Yes please. ||
We are passionate about bringing a relaxed approach while creating beautiful, natural and vibrant images.
There so much I want to tell you. I even made a list.
I made a list of three, seventeen, four hundred...and then just one:
I only stand because He stood again.
That's all that matters. That's all that will last.
But if you stay, someday I'll tell you the rest.
#sweeterpoetry
Hummingbird Pulse; poem 51
|| Happy Easter, dear ones. From my very favorite marble chapel.
Christ is risen indeed!! ||
If you knew what it took to forge all these poems, I'm not convinced that you'd still call them beautiful. Some come out on the first try, sure, but these ones are the most raw and are written in blood far before they are ever penned in ink.
#sweeterpoetry
Hummingbird Pulse, poem 100
I don’t know if you remember me (I’m not sure why you would. I was that tiny moment in the middle of that one day when you thought there was no way you could possibly heal again), but I remember you.
I remember how your every breath was a cry for help amidst the ashes of hopes that had been poured into a flower mold so that they might be able to pass themselves off as something still alive and breathing.
I remember your voice too. Even though I would never hear it, my ears rang with your aching. And I saw you, dear one. Don't you understand that?
(You were beautiful even then.)
#sweeterpoetry
Unwritten, Unsent; poem 105
It was that second when the sun said hi to the world you thought would forever stay dark and apologized for taking so long, but sunrise was beautiful. Sunrise was so, so beautiful.
(Please tell me you noticed. Because I can’t stop staring at you.)
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; poem 130
I just want you to know that this - up on strange places, hair blowing in the wind, and horizon calling my name - this is enough for me.
And the next person who tries to tell me I belong somewhere else is going to get a severe..
No. That’s not true. Just try this with me someday. Please?
Honestly, if we can’t appreciate these little moments, why do we expect ourselves to recognize the big ones?
#sweeterpoetry
Hummingbird Pulse; poem 83
I'm tired of "adventure" being this idealized notion of something that will fix the "mundanity of life."
When will we stop believing the infomercials for placebo "remedies" that never work as well as individual prescriptions?
Fill order: the presence of God. Refills: unlimited. Caution: may lead to radical faith and a changed perspective.
That's more than enough.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; poem 58
|| Capillas de Marmol. Lago General Carrera. Patagonia, Chile. ||
And I just think sometimes that I'll never know what to say to you, especially when the wind silences everything except heartbeats, and I'm here alone but it's enough. #sweeterpoetry
Like the held breath of a symphony's audience that isn't sure whether to clap yet. Like the storm on the horizon that hasn't made up its mind about raining. These words hang in the air because I can't pen them yet. #sweeterpoetry
|| Ollantaytambo, Peru ||
In which lights shine a bit differently, doors creak familiarly, voices echo softly, and even cold feels warm because you're finally home. #sweeterpoetry
She is what's left. She is the remnant; the promise of the Son's return and the reminder that nothing can ever fully expel light because she ushers in the stars.
|| Incredibly excited to announce my new project!
I've posted a few of my finished poems onto soundcloud, for any of you who are interested in hearing words delivered by their author. Also, they aren't published anywhere else in written form. So maybe that part is exciting too.
I'd love to hear your feedback on this! And I'm excited to share more soon!
… You might just see that my eyes have taken on the hues of the hedges themselves and realize that I can’t see beyond the walls of this maze anymore - until you somehow convince me to take your hand, or to at least believe that the green is still beautiful.
(It used to be my favorite color).
#sweeterpoetry
Hummingbird Pulse; poem 99 (excerpt)
Sometimes it's the smallest things that remind us: the waves over our toes, the horizon stretched out before us, and the simplicity of a place that has not yet been marked with memory.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; poem 104
We've been fed a reflection so often that we've come to define it as perfection and forget that even the smallest touch can distort it all.
So we don't touch. We don't go. We don't see.
We hide behind this subconscious fear of ruining something that we simultaneously believe is flawless.
"Illogical," you say, but our hearts know the truth.
We were made for something more than this.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; poem 63
|| #patagoniaisbest ||
•
Let's be wanderers.
Let's be the ones that break away from tour groups because the horizon beckons in it's own voice and we must answer.
Let's sit in random cafés and share poetry and stories like two hearts that want to understand one another, find rooftop hammocks and wait for sunrise through clouds that are beautiful on their own, and lose track of time on long drives marked by music that we make our own.
And please, let's never forget that this is somehow more beautiful when shared. Even if we're silent.
Because I'll still remember this.
Even when you don't. #sweeterpoetry
|| Leaving for La Paz, Bolivia in a few hours. Hence, my wrap-up of Puno, Peru and Lake Titicaca is up on my blog: chroniclesofdts.com
Bolivia will likely earn the award for sketchiest and most-likely-for-things-to-go-wrong destination of the trip. Prayers appreciated!! ||
Don't look for me in whispers or scribbles on page margins. Look for me in the soft defiance of dancing rain.
I am not who I once was. #sweeterpoetry
Hummingbird Pulse, poem 42
I wish I knew then what I now do: that when the words are my own, they help you fly. But maybe it's better this way - to save the ones that matter for when you do. #sweeterpoetry
We are passionate about bringing a relaxed approach while creating beautiful, natural and vibrant images.
Being blessed doesn’t just mean you’ve been blessed with something. It means you can be a blessing to someone else.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; poem 55
|| Junín de Los Andes - Patagonia, Argentina ||
But it seems that as equal poles repel each other, so do you and time. For I have yet to hear your voice. And I doubt that you have read mine. #sweeterpoetry
You have so much pent up potential that can either take you somewhere marvelous or disappear in a moment.
Just please remember that. And watch out for nails.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; poem 59
|| Capillas de Marmol. Lago General Carrera. Patagonia, Chile.
#patagoniaisbest ||
I don’t want to be dependent on likes or someone else’s approval or definitions of what an adventurous life is or could be.
You are my adventure. And that’s more than enough. #sweeterpoetry
We've missed too many moments, over here, looking down at our toes, hoping for something to change.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; poem 120
|| I'm reminded how important it is to look forward to something, even if it's small. But today, they aren't small. Today I am looking forward to Yosemite tomorrow. And Madrid for the summer.
What are you looking forward to, dear ones? ||
You always thought you were a chapter. And maybe, in the moment, so did I.
But now I think you were really just a sentence in the middle of a paragraph that’s more likely to be skimmed over than remembered.
My story is so much more than the damage you left in your wake.
#sweeterpoetry
Unwritten, Unsent; poem 38
We are passionate about bringing a relaxed approach while creating beautiful, natural and vibrant images.
I used to fear my dreams. I would refuse to share them and almost not even admit them to myself.
But then I learned to chase them. And I found the dearest friends to run after them with me and remind me to never stop hoping.
That, for me, is this moment.
For when you help someone else realize their dreams, you notice that maybe, all along, it was them helping you realize yours
#sweeterpoetry
Hummingbird Pulse; poem 50
|| #patagoniaisbest ||
Do you know what it is to be here? Simultaneously wrapped up in your own fears and dreams that together wrought a metal too heavy to be anything other than this foreboding chain.
(Or launching spring.)
Do you know what it is to be free?
(I do.)
#sweeterpoetry
Hummingbird Pulse; poem 110
For control of land and domination of markets
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www.jjfbbennett.com/2023/08/control-and-domination.html
JJFBbennett Art Directory
Contemporary Positional Art and Socio-Fictional Writings
It is about being creative and innovative with knowledge
If you're really so bound and determined to believe that you're not creative and that everything has already been done before, that's fine. I won't try to change your mind.
Just know that you are textured surfaces echoing back strains of the Divine and no one else is able to reverberate quite the same as you.
#sweeterpoetry
To Be A Song; poem 113
We are passionate about bringing a relaxed approach while creating beautiful, natural and vibrant images.