My name is Traveler and I roam endlessly,
searching for image’s, for my camera and me.
I imagine lost paradise, with white sandy beaches,
where wildlife runs free from humanities touches.
The lense is my window to all the places I see,
like a child with her toys and the dog chasing bee’s.
There’s the old man at rest in his pickup at noon,
or the clown’s at the circus with every colored balloon.
The old John Deer tractor that’s been frozen by rust,
the abandoned old farmhouse now covered in dust.
The forgotten old barn with it’s empty grain silo’s,
it’s stalls erie silence, where cows once stood in rows.
From the lense of my camera I see fields of wild flowers,
and clouds in formation full of warm springtime showers.
The bow’s pastel colors arched high in the heaven’s,
frame the valleys with glory as the sun sets at seven.
Traveler’s my name and I search through my dreams,
for the treasures of beauty that are known just to me.
The careful click of a shutter, a moment frozen in time,
frames the art I compose by the thoughts in my mind.
My journal’s the pictures I create through my lense,
memories preserved from those journeys within.
The visions I search for are birthed by my thoughts,
while driven by passion and then valiantly caught.
My name is Traveler and I drive endlessly,
searching for pictures for my camera and me.
You’ll know who I am from all the tools that I carry,
as I look for the images, that will go with my stories.
Barbara A. Carlan 4/23/2009
I wrote this early last year with a friend of mine in mind. As an artist who has come to love the lense as well I guess it now applies to me. I also dedicate this to all my bubblers who love their camera’s. Here are a few samples of my photo treasures