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View allAll Photos Tagged Ceaseless
Before human existence, the Park was once a vast lowland basin. For hundreds of millions of years, materials that eroded from the early Rock Mountains deposited layer upon layer of sediments which cemented a slow and gentle uplift generated by ceaseless pressure from below the surface, elevating these horizontal strata quite uniformly one to three miles above sea level. What was once a basin became a plateau.
A female spirit from heaven has landed on Earth
She has come decked with precious ornaments
She has come
She has a flower garland decorated in her hair
Everyone’s gaze is stuck on her
She has come
She is the beloved one of all
She is gorgeous like a deer
She is a beauty queen
She has come
Since my gaze has gotten struck with yours, I’ve become crazy
I’ve become crazy, I’ve become crazy
The tale of my love has become famous
The world didn’t believe in me, so I took this resolve
I was someplace earlier, now look where I’ve reached
Everyone says that Mastani has become crazy
The tale of my love has become famous
The world didn’t believe in me, so I took this resolve
I was someplace earlier, now look where I’ve reached
They say that this crazy one has become intoxicated
I’ve become crazy, I’ve become crazy
You’ve wounded me in such a way
That I’ve become crazy
You’ve applied ointment on that wound in such a way
That I’ve become spiritual
The identity of my love
Has kept me in a constant movement
The tale of my love has become famous
Everyone says that Mastani has become crazy
I’ve become crazy, I’ve become crazy
The tale of my love has become famous
The world didn’t believe in me, so I took this resolve
I was someplace earlier, now look where I’ve reached
Everyone says that Mastani has become crazy
I’ve become crazy, I’ve become crazy
Light is spread everywhere
Only You’re there in my thoughts
My heart is dancing ceaselessly
You’re intoxicated, you’re crazy
Your image is that of purity, You are a glowing beauty
Light is spread everywhere
Only You’re there in my thoughts
Hi everyone, 😊I think this has been a record length Flickr break even by my recent erratic standards. I have missed my circle of Flickr friends and have been touched deeply by everyone who has reached out to me to see if I’m still breathing! You are all just the kindest, most caring and all around brilliantly talented and generous souls, and it’s never lost on me how lucky I have been to have had the incredibly good fortune of meeting you all. I hope everyone is well, content, finding joy in abundance, and is blessed with the best of health and finding ceaseless beauty and tons of creative inspiration.
Things are happy and with me, and speaking of happy, horses have made me a happy girl since the very minute I arrived in this world. They are one of my true lifetime loves and passions. Stunningly beautiful, strong, sensitive, intuitive creatures they are. Horses = happy place. 🐴💖😊
Love you all lots xo ❤️
* I have always wanted to visit Tintern Abbey that is so well celebrated in poetry by Wordsworth and paintings by JW Turner. I have to say it was a little disappointing it was not as beautiful as the the fine Abbey’s in Yorkshire like Fountains, Rievaulx and Whitby. However we had a good walk in the hills above the valley so an enjoyable visit.
It was also my first visit to Wales since 1973. I lived in Swansea then and I must be honest I was not impressed by the country and its ceaseless rain. I have avoided Wales successfully since then but on this trip I was in and out of Wales fairly often, perhaps after fifty years I should learn to appreciate the country a little.
Tintern Abbey (Welsh: Abaty Tyndyrn )was founded on 9 May 1131 by Walter de Clare, Lord of Chepstow. It is situated adjacent to the village of Tintern in Monmouthshire, on the Welsh bank of the River Wye, which at this location forms the border between Monmouthshire in Wales and Gloucestershire in England. It was the first Cistercian foundation in Wales, and only the second in Britain
The abbey fell into ruin after the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the 16th century. Its remains have been celebrated in poetry and painting from the 18th century onwards.
THANKS FOR YOUR VISIT TO MY STREAM.
I WOULD BE VERY GRATEFUL IF YOU COULD NOT FAVE A PHOTO
WITHOUT ALSO LEAVING A COMMENT .
Zaandijk - Zaanse Schans - Julianabrug
Copyright - All images are copyright © protected. All Rights Reserved. Copying, altering, displaying or redistribution of any of these images without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited.
♫ In My Life ♫ - Beatles
White in the moon the long road lies
by A. E. Housman
White in the moon the long road lies,
The moon stands blank above;
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.
Still hangs the hedge without a gust,
Still, still the shadows stay:
My feet upon the moonlit dust
Pursue the ceaseless way …
Wishing all of my cherished Flickr friends a very happy Christmas and a new year ahead filled with all of the things that bring you smiles, fulfillment and joy.
You each inspire me every day with your brilliant art and photography, your ceaseless creativity, and the kindness and encouragement you all generously weave throughout the entire tapestry of the Flickr realms. Thank you from my heart for the gift of your friendship...it is treasured. 💕❤️
xo 💖
Korazon — World Kora Trio
~
Son Perde .
Bu ona veda hediyesi olarak vermek istediği son güldü
Akşamları onun için parladığında her zaman giydiği rengârenk aşk kostümüne duyduğu hayranlığın bir jestiydi
Tuzlu ve kavrulmuş dudaklarını öpmeye devam eden tatlı su gibi güzel sözleri için minnettarlığının son bir hatırlatıcısı
Okyanusunun derin geçitlerinde yavaşça boğulurken sevgiyle ve durmaksızın fısıldadığı şefkatli ninniye duyduğu coşkunluğun bir armağanı
Onun aşkının boşluğuna sığamadığı için pişmanlık duyduğunu gösteren bir jest
Ona veda etmek için ciddiyetle denize attığı çelenk için son bir teşekkür eylemi
Bes
11 Mayıs 2023
————————————————————————————————————————————— .
The Final Act .
It was the last rose he wanted to give her as a farewell gift
A gesture of admiration for the colourful costumes of love she always wore when she shone in the evening
A last reminder of his gratitude for her lovely words, like sweet water that kept kissing his salty and parched lips
A gift of his rapture for the tender lullaby she lovingly and ceaselessly whispered as he slowly drowned in the deep gorges of his ocean
A gesture of regret that he couldn't fit in the void of her love
A final act of thanks for the wreath she solemnly threw into the wavy sea to bid him farewell
~
Bes
It does not only operate in the blinding flash of a moment seized; it works all the time. The snatched picture merely cuts across the vein of observable incident or accident which is always beating, whether or not the fingers actually press :-)
Lincoln Kirsten
phlox, j c raulston arboretum, ncsu, raleigh, north carolina
Winner of the Tralalas Diner Most Innovative Thinker Rusted Bottlecap Medal.. The coveted Laughing Buddha.
Awarded for once and for all addressing the issue of the ceaseless complains the local mice...
Pigweena K. Cat says.."Never underestimate how stupid mice are"
DRD JULY GROUP GIFT - Complaint Board (2 choices)
Available at Mainstore
slurl.com/secondlife/Death%20Row/107/141/23
Pix'd @ Tralalas Diner @ Pine Lake
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Pine%20Lake/174/102/38
Tralalas Diner Pine Lake postcards designed by Kaia Beattie
The Worldstone. It was the power of creation and the birth of our Eternal Conflict. From the High Heavens to the Burning Hells, our desire to control that power poisoned its very nature. And so...I gave my life to destroy it.
Just like in Sanctuary, the High Heavens and the Seven Hells, ceaseless greed brought about the ruin of the world. Ain't no one give a shit about your mobile game, Blizzard. Jesus Christ.
Credits: Blog!
From my youth, at a very young age, I had been taught that innovation and discovery were the cornerstones to pave the path to progression. When I came of age, everyone seemed to have a different idea. Frustration lines me as I'm met with friction at every turn. Punishments flow more freely than knowledge in sanctuaries of education, disparaging any soul who would find themselves seeking to learn off the beaten path. Curiosity is fettered and the currents of change are barred. I've tried ceaseless times to delve into the extensive libraries, scrolls and ancient texts to no avail. Those who would find themselves currying favour will even join in with mockery to anyone who would stand against the given curriculum. What are the archives there for, if not for use? "You see with your eyes, not your hands," they chide, upon getting escorted out.
I think for once, I may humour that notion.
Credits: Blog!
Hanging-out on the beach with a few mates - ceaseless scurrying on a bright day in February at Filey Bay in Yorkshire (UK) (5830)
". . . tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning——
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
Scott Fitzgerald - final words of
The Great Gatsby, © 1925.
Made with parts of two stock images. Textures and treatments are my own; Photoshop CS3.
THANK YOU ALL MY KIND FLICKR FRIENDS.
YOUR FAVS, COMMENTS AND INVITATIONS ARE VERY MOTIVATING AND APPRECIATED
(english follow)
Le Murmure des prés
Le froid intense et la neige incessante
m’ont forcé à voyager en moi, dans mes souvenirs plus chauds, déjà lointains
Et en suivant la route de mon coeur, c’est le bruissement si particulier du vent dans les prés herbacés que j’ai d’abord reconnu.
Et avec lui, l’image de ces petites fleurs modestes, mais dansantes et libres
s’est imposée.
Ne cherchez pas dans ces prés les odeurs enivrantes des fleurs odorantes de votre jardin.
Ici, l’odeur dominante est celle de la liberté. La liberté de fleurir en son temps, la liberté de danser dans le vent, la liberté de ne pas respecter une norme de beauté quelconque, la liberté de pas attendre de soins, sauf ceux des oiseaux de passage.
Au coeur de l’hiver, dans le froid et la neige intenses, j’ai écouté sans bruit le murmure du pré.
Patrice
-----------------
Whispers of the Meadows
The extreme cold and the ceaseless snow
forced me to an introspective journey through my warmest memories, already distant;
And following the road of my heart, it is the peculiar whisper of the wind in the meadow's grasses that I first recognized;
And with it, the image of these small humble flowers, but dancing and free has emerged.
Don't try to find in these meadows the exhilarating scents of the fragrant flowers from your garden.
Here, the dominant scent is the one of freedom. The freedom of blooming on its own time, the freedom of dancing in the wind, the freedom of breaking the standards of beauty, the freedom of having no worries, except those of the birds passing by.
In the heart of the winter, in the cold of the heavy snow, I listen to the quiet whisper of the meadow...
Patrice
Photo Taken @ Pemberley
The Old Windmill
by Clarence Albert Murch
Battered windmill, old and gray,
Swinging there athwart the sky,
Sport of every idle breeze
That may chance to wander by.
Blow they fair or blow they foul,
Still you wag your dingy cowl
Through the livelong night and day,
Weather-beaten, old and gray.
Is that endless monotone—
Half a shriek and half a groan—
That in dreary cadence drones
From your old rheumatic bones,
Echo of some sylvan tune,
Or forgotten forest rune
From the aisles of long ago,
Calling, calling, soft and low
Through the banished years that creep
Back to some old forest dim,
Where the woodland zephyrs sweep
Dancing leaf and swaying limb?
As the lazy breezes blow
All your gaunt arms to and fro,
Swinging ever round and round,
To that weird, unearthly sound,
Do you ever wish that some
Wandering Don Quixote of wind
With its stormy lance might come—
End that weary, ceaseless grind?
Life is like a windmill gray,
Swinging ’twixt the earth and sky;
Sport of every passing breeze
That may chance to wander by.
Still we grind with smile or scowl,
Blow they fair or blow they foul;
Sure that we shall be some day,
Weather-beaten, old and gray.
To shot the images it was also used: True Storms - Wasteland Edition by fadingsignal❖Red Rockets' Glare REDONE - Lighting by Ceaseless and PDE❖Console Commands (force Weather & Hour)❖Freecam
Rocks along the east shore of Lake Tahoe, near Memorial Point. I love the rounded shapes, created by ceaseless wave action from the lake.
Happy weekend! Thanks, as always, for stopping by and for all of your kind comments -- I appreciate them all.
© Melissa Post 2015
All rights reserved. Please respect my copyright and do not copy, modify or download this image to blogs or other websites without obtaining my explicit written permission.
“The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.” William Butler Yeates
Shameless sea
Aimlessly so blue
Midnight-moon shines for you
Still, marooned
Silence drifting through
Nowhere to choose
Just blue...
Ceaselessly
Star-crossed you and me
Save our souls
We'll be forever blue
Waves roll
Lift us in blue
Drift us
Seep right through
And colour us blue
Wait for me
Shameless you, the sea
Soon, the Blue
So soon...
Soon, the Blue
So soon...
-Music: The Blue by David Gilmour
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGMjVZggjA0
Taken @ Flux Sur Mer
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Serena%20Montreuil/179/216/24
Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park, Utah/Arizona.
Before human existence, the Park was once a lowland basin. For hundreds of millions of years, materials that eroded from the early Rock Mountains deposited layer upon layer of sediment which cemented a slow and gentle uplift, generated by ceaseless pressure from below the surface, elevating these horizontal strata quite uniformly one to three miles above sea level. What was once a basin became a plateau.
Natural forces of wind and water that eroded the land spent the last 50 million years cutting into and peeling away at the surface of the plateau. The simple wearing down of altering layers of soft and hard rock slowly revealed the natural wonders of Monument Valley today.
For video, please visit youtu.be/hoir5_6y7uY
Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park, Utah/Arizona.
Before human existence, the Park was once a lowland basin. For hundreds of millions of years, materials that eroded from the early Rock Mountains deposited layer upon layer of sediment which cemented a slow and gentle uplift, generated by ceaseless pressure from below the surface, elevating these horizontal strata quite uniformly one to three miles above sea level. What was once a basin became a plateau.
Natural forces of wind and water that eroded the land spent the last 50 million years cutting into and peeling away at the surface of the plateau. The simple wearing down of altering layers of soft and hard rock slowly revealed the natural wonders of Monument Valley today.
For video, please visit youtu.be/hoir5_6y7uY
Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park, Utah/Arizona.(Taken from our hotel room)
Before human existence, the Park was once a lowland basin. For hundreds of millions of years, materials that eroded from the early Rock Mountains deposited layer upon layer of sediment which cemented a slow and gentle uplift, generated by ceaseless pressure from below the surface, elevating these horizontal strata quite uniformly one to three miles above sea level. What was once a basin became a plateau.
Natural forces of wind and water that eroded the land spent the last 50 million years cutting into and peeling away at the surface of the plateau. The simple wearing down of altering layers of soft and hard rock slowly revealed the natural wonders of Monument Valley today.
For video, please visit youtu.be/hoir5_6y7uY
Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park, Utah/Arizona. (Taken from our hotel room)
Before human existence, the Park was once a lowland basin. For hundreds of millions of years, materials that eroded from the early Rock Mountains deposited layer upon layer of sediment which cemented a slow and gentle uplift, generated by ceaseless pressure from below the surface, elevating these horizontal strata quite uniformly one to three miles above sea level. What was once a basin became a plateau.
Natural forces of wind and water that eroded the land spent the last 50 million years cutting into and peeling away at the surface of the plateau. The simple wearing down of altering layers of soft and hard rock slowly revealed the natural wonders of Monument Valley today.
For video, please visit youtu.be/hoir5_6y7uY
Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park, Utah/Arizona.
Before human existence, the Park was once a lowland basin. For hundreds of millions of years, materials that eroded from the early Rock Mountains deposited layer upon layer of sediment which cemented a slow and gentle uplift, generated by ceaseless pressure from below the surface, elevating these horizontal strata quite uniformly one to three miles above sea level. What was once a basin became a plateau.
Natural forces of wind and water that eroded the land spent the last 50 million years cutting into and peeling away at the surface of the plateau. The simple wearing down of altering layers of soft and hard rock slowly revealed the natural wonders of Monument Valley today.
For video, please visit youtu.be/hoir5_6y7uY
Deep in the bosom of the gentle night
Is when I search for the light
Pick up my pen and start to write
I struggle, fight dark forces
In the clear moon light
Without fear... insomnia
I can't get no sleep
I used to worry, thought I was goin' mad in a hurry
Gettin' stress, makin' excess mess in darkness
No electricity, something's all over me, greasy
Insomnia please release me and let me dream of
Makin' mad love to my girl on the heath
Tearin' off tights with my teeth
But there's no release, no peace
I toss and turn without cease
Like a curse, open my eyes and rise like yeast
At least a couple of weeks
Since I last slept, kept takin' sleepers
But now I keep myself pepped
Deeper still, that night I write by candle light
I find insight, fundamental movement, uh
So when it's back this insomniac take an original tack
Keep the beast in my nature under ceaseless attack
I gets no sleep
I can't get no sleep
Look, stars
are falling
broken, piecemeal,
chips of winter
light drifting down
over the city,
street lamps aglow,
so cold, darkening,
trucks and cars cough,
whine and slow
as ceaselessly
a trillion trillion
wings flutter softly
down onto roofs
and lawns and fill
trees with what seems
cloaks of white lace
invisible hands knit
as I sit and wait,
as I gaze upward
like a swimmer
undersea and then
the light changes
and the radio comes on
and the road ahead
begins ever so
imperceptibly
to vanish.
--M deO
To shot the images it was also used: True Storms - Wasteland Edition by fadingsignal❖Red Rockets' Glare REDONE - Lighting by Ceaseless and PDE❖Console Commands (force Weather & Hour)❖Freecam
Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park, Utah/Arizona. (Taken from our hotel room)
Before human existence, the Park was once a lowland basin. For hundreds of millions of years, materials that eroded from the early Rock Mountains deposited layer upon layer of sediment which cemented a slow and gentle uplift, generated by ceaseless pressure from below the surface, elevating these horizontal strata quite uniformly one to three miles above sea level. What was once a basin became a plateau.
Natural forces of wind and water that eroded the land spent the last 50 million years cutting into and peeling away at the surface of the plateau. The simple wearing down of altering layers of soft and hard rock slowly revealed the natural wonders of Monument Valley today.
For video, please visit youtu.be/hoir5_6y7uY
Queen Elizabeth The Second.
A constant in our lives who will be sadly missed by so many.
Our heart felt thanks to her ceaseless dedication to duty.
Photo was taken in York June 2022. It was etched on a shop window to celebrate Her Majestys 70 years as Queen.
Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park, Utah/Arizona.
Before human existence, the Park was once a lowland basin. For hundreds of millions of years, materials that eroded from the early Rock Mountains deposited layer upon layer of sediment which cemented a slow and gentle uplift, generated by ceaseless pressure from below the surface, elevating these horizontal strata quite uniformly one to three miles above sea level. What was once a basin became a plateau.
Natural forces of wind and water that eroded the land spent the last 50 million years cutting into and peeling away at the surface of the plateau. The simple wearing down of altering layers of soft and hard rock slowly revealed the natural wonders of Monument Valley today.
For video, please visit youtu.be/hoir5_6y7uY
To shot the images it was also used: True Storms - Wasteland Edition by fadingsignal❖Red Rockets' Glare REDONE - Lighting by Ceaseless and PDE❖Console Commands (force Weather & Hour)❖Freecam
Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park, Utah/Arizona. (Taken from our hotel room)
Before human existence, the Park was once a lowland basin. For hundreds of millions of years, materials that eroded from the early Rock Mountains deposited layer upon layer of sediment which cemented a slow and gentle uplift, generated by ceaseless pressure from below the surface, elevating these horizontal strata quite uniformly one to three miles above sea level. What was once a basin became a plateau.
Natural forces of wind and water that eroded the land spent the last 50 million years cutting into and peeling away at the surface of the plateau. The simple wearing down of altering layers of soft and hard rock slowly revealed the natural wonders of Monument Valley today.
For video, please visit youtu.be/hoir5_6y7uY
It's 3AM
And I am laying wide-awake
And I can't sleep for the noise inside my head
The world vibrating
With a cruel cacophony
Flooded with the thoughts my mind has bled
The restless furor
Of a thousand racing thoughts
Swarms around me like a vulture circles prey
In the darkness
No one else can hear a sound
But I am deafened by this ceaseless disarray
I could scream myself to sleep
If it would shatter the illusion
But I can't give in to this
It's the noise that makes me human
Waking life
Like a movie on a screen
Running backwards as the film starts to unthread
A wall of violence
Bounding forward through the peace
With no regard for what might lie ahead
An infestation
Of arbitrary thought
Washes over me in paralyzing waves
My defenses
Battered by…
From the regional civil protection yellow code, The spectacle of a stormy sea always makes a deep impression. It is the image of that infinity which ceaselessly attracts thought, and in which thought gets lost. Explore October 2022.
Twilight at Kirribilli. Sydney.
''And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald. 'The Great Gatsby' (1925)
Fitzgerald uses the image of boats struggling against a strong current to represent humanity's efforts to achieve a desired future, only to be repeatedly pulled back into the past.
It is thus a metaphor for the futility of striving for an unattainable future and the inescapable nature of the past. It is the final line of his novel: 'The Great Gatsby'.
A rather bleak yet fascinating 'Modernist' mantra that is typical of disillusioned artists in the early 1900s such as the poets T.S. Eliot and W.H. Auden.
Modernism is the current topic at my senior girls high school here in Sydney, where the girls, aged 16 to 18, are putting Tik Tok away to learn about the concerns of novelists, poets and artists in the period 1900-1940. At least, that's the plan, lol.
My Canon EOS 5D Mk IV with the Canon EF 75-300mm f/4-5.6 lens.
Processed in Adobe Lightroom.