The featured photo was shot by my father, Ronald Neumann. Three of the images shown with the poetry are royalty-free from MorgueFile. I created the remaining four pictures with the program, Fresh Paint. (See if you can discern which is which). As always, I hope you enjoy the poetry:
Is a picture worth a thousand words? I’m not sure, but I feel like a picture is at least worth a Haiku poem.
I created all of these images myself.
The featured image is a photograph shot by my father.
I hope you enjoy this poetry:
It’s been a while since I wrote a blog post that wasn’t poetry. I decided that today—a beautiful summer Saturday—would be a good time to switch things up. I thought about writing something concerning the effect of ISIS on our foreign policy or maybe the future possibility of virtual and/or robotic prostitution, but I just wasn’t feeling it. Continue reading Never-Ending Clay
I wrote a fake press release today. My sister (Christine Neumann) and I came up with an idea for a painless male catheter. We figured the ‘Galactic Cap’ condom that only attaches to the head of the penis would make for a better design than the Texas (or Condom) catheters currently in use. The next amendment we made was employing hydrophobic substances to eliminate all irritation and inflammation caused by flesh in contact with urine. Christine suggested that a cast could be molded from a patient’s penis and used to create a perfectly fitted opening—using hydrophobic materials. And for emergency situations where a cast cannot be made fast enough, I believe a hydrophobic ointment—applied underneath the condom—could temporarily minimize the adverse, painful effects due to urine exposure. This catheter concept may only apply to patients that do have the ability to urinate voluntarily, yet cannot get out of bed.
I’m not claiming to be a medical professional or an engineer (and neither is my sister). We wanted to think of something that could potentially benefit others. We don’t desire any recognition or compensation.
I wrote this poetry with my father’s photography in mind. The seven stanzas are as follows: a beginning Tanka, 5 Haiku, and a final Tanka. I hope these images and words inspire your day.
I wrote this meditative poetry while holding a lapis lazuli gemstone and looking at the following pictures taken by my father in our backyard. I hope it instills a sense of tranquility.
Where do I start?
I concentrated on my antique lamp, carefully analyzing the dust coating its base. It felt like me, I assumed. I felt like dust clung to me. “Yet it’s brighter than I’ll ever be.”
Everything I had to do that day, and tomorrow, seemed overwhelming. It was hopeless. It was repeated torture.
“Today is the day I do it. I’m really going to.”
I looked out the window—the sun piercing my swollen eyes.