Author Archives: oldmainer

About oldmainer

I am a retired manager living in Southern Maine and a would be writer of poetry, narratives, short stories, and random opinions, and that's how Oldmainer was born. Recently, I decided to try an experiment. I added photography to the mix, using only a cheap cell phone with a limited camera and the editing software that came with it, and added the blog site Inklings at poormanspoet.wordpress.com to showcase the results. So, feel free to use whatever you find interesting or worthy, but please honor the terms of my copyright when and if you do. They may not be much, but they are still a piece of me. I appreciate your checking me out and hope that you find something that will encourage a return visit. Thanks for stopping by.

Pre-flight

Two sounds of autumn are unmistakable…the hurrying rustle of crisp leaves blown along the street…by a gusty wind, and the gabble of a flock of migrating geese. Hal Borland

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Showoff

How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days.John Burroughs

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When I Grow Up

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Inbound Ferry in Black and White

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Family Outing

Nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own. Charles Dickens

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Graffiti Sky

“Bursts of gold on lavender melting into saffron. It’s the time of day when the sky looks like it has been spray-painted by a graffiti artist.” Mia Kirshner

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Build It And They Will Come

If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere.‘Laura Ingalls Wilder’

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Hidden Harbour

The Voyage As a young man I cast off my line and sailed into life’s seaMy destination was unknown, just happy to be free I oft sailed troubled waters, furling sails til the time whenI’d ridden out the turbulence and … Continue reading

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Cycles

Grasses, shifting in the breeze Tanned by the suns of summer Now but the ghosts of a season Sands, stumble haplessly Casting about without destination Defiant against an encroaching sea Tides, fussy with restless movement Scurry about with abandon Surrender … Continue reading

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The Flower Lady

And there upon a stool she sat With well worn shoes and floppy hat Petals from her basket fell A bouquet in her hands to sell Flowers for your love she said With quizzical look and tilted head Your lady … Continue reading

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