Amid an Upper Floor
Of the Ford Building
Was a Friends Studio, For
Commercial Photographing

A Ponderous sized Room
Complete with 12 foot ceilings
6' x 4' foot Softboxes on Stands
10' boom Stand angled is Key Lighting

All Surround a Mottled Muslin Background
1200 Watt Strobe Pack with cord like snakes
To Strobe Heads, Imbue the room with Light
Some soft shadowless, other pin sharp bright

Instantly my mind took in the Possibilities
If I should delve into this Art of Photography
So Enamored was I, to use Studio and Lights
I mopped and polished floor to a Shiny Sight

The feeling I had connecting Camera to cord
I knew that Moment I could ill Afford to
Not Pursue this Pashion as I Shot a.....
Lovely Young Model of Fashion

Accordian Like Toyo Large Format Camera
Ansel Adams treked up mountains to shoot Vistas
Have Stood the test of time, and Anals of our History
Or the Mamya's and Hassleblads Favored By Fashion

The 35mm Nikon F3, though its one I could ill afford
He used to teach Me, and Softboxes the Light Adored
It was Barely Shadowy, A Keylight with a snoot was bright
With Light and Shadow my Palette I began Photography

Of the Studio Life and the Parties at Night,
I could go on and on, Cold Pressed Coffee
Long after Sunrise, was the Ritual of the Yawns
This Tale's How I began the Art of Photography...JMF 3/2/2015

I went on for 10 years Doing Commercial and Weddings*
My photo website is www.shamusmediaarts.com

You're never as brave
As you think you are.
Not until you wear your
Courage like a permanent scar.
Don't forget the impossible
Is never really that far
And dreams can be reached
By wishing on a shooting star.
You can only be as brave
As you believe *you are.

There's nothing like the Feel
Of two wheels and the power
Between your Legs, The Pounding
Of two  Cylinders, as the engine Revs.

Wheeling through snaking roads
Surrounded by Sunlight and trees
The intense smell of fallen leaves
On a cool nights ride. Feeling free

Blasting down a two lane road.
Rolling into a small town,you
Hear the Bikes Rumble, as you
Shift down, and throttle off the gas

The roar of your bikes sound, as
It bounces off the passing buildings.
You're out of town past the Last street light
As the Stars unfold in the stark black night

The feel of the wind's a sweet taste of freedom
Content for the silence and the Bike motors hum.
As an old Biker the ride is Past, but the feel of
The wind Flowing past my face, and the pound
Of the Motors sound, still be mine, Till my Day is Done

The seedling of a Poem,
Springs deep from within
Pushing as it finds its roots
Its birth, born of Hope begins
Words Sprout to bring it forth

And Rhyme feeds the bud to bloom
And with elation, soon petals form
And in celebration, a new Poem is born*
*And brings the sweet scent, of its full bloom.....