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Follow my blog link for the poem I wrote called Inked Fever...https://wordpress.com/post/jasperjacemirror.home.blog/59

 

Inked Fever.... By Jasper Mirror

 

This fever

Has caught me strong on the let

down

trying to hold onto the rain

Falling through fingers to the ground

I’ve buckled on less and

now here I am once again

down on nothingness here

on my knees

Something about you surrounds me here

I want this heat in the

open air to take me there

 

I will hold your

Head up as the water falls

Down around us

Holding onto a chance that is

Lost and confined in the depths where we hide

Captured and pulled from your embrace

Don’t let me go through life inside of the marry-go-round

Flying from the ground

Caught in these hurricanes

Inside of the eye of our storms

 

Put me inside of your world

let me show

This piece of me

Standing here

waiting for your heart

the ocean of fear caging us in

tearing us apart

soaking in the water of tears from

hearts easily torn apart

 

When you reach your shore

Let me hold your fear with my heart

My hands want to show you

Around this wilderness that is me

Our barriers fight against us

If I could keep things here

If I could

Hold you

Until our endless depths find a way

To accept the blackout

The way we are

 

The night might wake up with the dark

In our hearts

Wake up and feel

the sting

feel the bruise

our hearts awakened in darkness yet

hold onto the rain falling

from our hands

a two-sided emotion-filled midnight in

the wilderness that I found

in your arms

Hold onto promises of what could be

 

In the moments when we feel the implosion in your heart

Take me out of this black ink well,

mark your song all around me

Tattoo the notes in my heart

Keep the black

rewrite it because we are

more than our blackened hearts

  

By Jasper Mirror

  

ink painting like

This South African Wildabeast (or Wildabeest depending on where you are from) was another "throw away" shot from my 2025 trip to Namibia. The sun was brutal in Etosha that day. When I reviewed the shot and developed it as a high key image, I found that with a little more work, I could make it look like a pen and ink drawing. I hope you enjoy it. 20250508 South African Wildabeast

ink on cardboard

Scan of original photo

i just lifesized myself. ha!

2020-09-06, Day 2

A deep carpet of red- and golden-tinged dwarf birch and willows lines both sides of the milky blue, glacial waters of Dinwoody Creek as it flows under Ink Wells Bridge, Fitzpatrick Wilderness, Wind River Range, Wyoming.

 

After saying 'Dinwoody' enough times, I gradually morphed the word into 'Dim Woody', and my hiking partner and I then began to develop the tale of Old Dim Woody whose spirit still roams these parts. Without screens or responsibilities, and with enough time on our hands doing nothing but walking through beautiful country, the mind rapidly unspools into wanton ridiculousness. It seemed likely that Old Dim Woody was a tad fond of his sipping whiskey, and when his spirits were high and besotted, he was prone to bouts of poor decision making. Things only got worse when a neighbor's mare kicked him in the pate one night when the rye was particularly enchanting and he mistook her for a spittoon.

 

One September after this unfortunate event, an autumn snow-storm blew in when Old Dim Woody was camped at Ink Wells. Sometime during the night his pony became infected with a bit of madness and threatened to break its hobble. The hapless man tried to calm his hoofed companion but to no avail: Dim Woody was never too meticulous about maintenance, and the hobble leather was old and rotted. The pony broke free and headed over the bridge and upstream through the forest at an impressive speed for one with such stubby legs. In fact, its diminutive stature may have helped it avoid some of the boughs already pressed low by the accumulating snow as it heedlessly fled upward toward the headwaters. Pondering the situation for perhaps too-brief a time, Old Dim Woody slapped his battered hat onto his dented head, invigorated his mind with another dram of rye, pushed through the flap of his tent, and began to follow the already-filling tracks of his erstwhile steed.

 

The tracks wound ever higher and the temperature was cold. Not quite cold enough to tingle and freeze the nose hairs upon the inhale, but cold enough that his toes became numb once the snow that kept knocking into the tops of his boots eventually overwhelmed the capacity of his feet to produce heat. The pony's tracks were faint but continually bore upward, past timberline and toward the giant cirque of peaks that held the glacier that fed the creek. If he stopped for too long, he shivered, sometimes violently. It was difficult to move through the rocks once the snow hid the deep cracks between them. He discovered that the coefficient of static friction between his boots and the icy boulders was perilously low. Once, his foot became tightly wedged between two large, immovable stones and it took him several increasingly panicky minutes to extricate it. The sky was filled with snow and then a surprise clap of thunder sobered him up as waves of kettle-drum sound crashed amongst the ice-clad peaks. The lightning followed immediately and was so bright it lit up the atmosphere. It was like being deep underwater beneath a violent falls under the dazzling sun, bright snow bubbles everywhere and impossible to tell which way was up.

 

Nobody knows exactly what happened to Old Dim Woody on that fateful night. His empty tent was discovered by some trappers seeking late-season beaver a month or so later. There were fresh pony tracks over the bridge and horse dung inside the tent. The small cache of oats that Old Dim Woody kept in a can near the wood-stove had been raided. They say the moaning wind of the first winter storm is the sound of Dim Woody howling amongst the rocks, looking for tracks and pining for another dram.

ink on paper

ink on paper, slightly photoshopped

1, 8 oz oink ink black barely used

1, 8 oz Junobo white Barley used

3 empty 1 oz or 2 oz mops

1 Black filled mop

1 White filled mop

11 extra new nibs

 

Make your offers looking for prismas, copics, decos, and money

Inked summer girl

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M: @dela_boldt

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#portraitphotography #portrait_vision #portraitmadeingermany #portrait #portrait_perfection #portraitpage #modelsofinstagram #model #glamourmodel #glamour #inked #beauty #body #redhead #redheadgirl #curlyhair #inkedmodel #beach #beachgirl #naturalbeauty #Panasonic #PanasonicLumix #2019 #Beach #guidokpunkt #SanktPeterOrding #Shooting #Sommer #Sonne #SPO #Strand #sun #fun #lifestyle

   

Getty Images

 

Shoe: nike.com

Background: freestocktextures.com

Paint material: mediamilitia.com

 

White & Large

Most Interesting photos

  

© Rui Almeida 2011 | All rights reserved.

 

All photos they may not be used or reproduced without my permission. If you would like to use one of my images for commercial purposes or other reason, please contact me. Depending on the situation may have to assign the work as specified by the author.

 

No images in comments please, or you or you can be blocked, but group invites are welcome

Parker Duofold fountain pen makes a Perfect Match with Parker Quink ink. Taken for Macro Mondays. Macro photograph taken using diffused daylight. Blue pen and blue ink. Black border with white key line.

From A Found Flatfish Carcass On The Shore

stylemerotten.wordpress.com/2014/12/03/wanted/

 

僕らは生まれてからso多く学び

死に近づくにつれて多くを忘れ

気付いた時にゃもう灰になって

生きた証を残しておくにはモノじゃ無くて

誰かの記憶に残るような人生をお薦めします

www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcBBNB5JTOQ

 

We've learned so much since being born

And we forget it everytime we inch closer to death

Before we know it, we've turned to ash

And to leave behind proof of the lives we lived

I recommend you live a life somebody out there will remember

A shaggy ink cap mushroom in perfect condition. They don't last long in this state before they curl up and start to drip their ink. There were quite a few of these mushrooms in a small patch of long grass and this was the only one in this condition, the others had peaked and were dripping all over the grass.

 

Just while I was taking this image the sun came out and cast light upon the scene.

Credit

 

..TENEBRE.. - Succubus - Jail Event

 

DO INK - Black Mamba Earrings - Jail Event

 

DO INK - Metals Stilleto Nails - Jail Event

 

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.......... bottle. Shot this old Sheaffer's Skrip ink bottle a lot of times before finally cropping down to this one. Tried with no ink. Then with a little ink in the bottom and well but it looked like a, well, an ink blob. Then tried this one with just a bit of ink in the well. Seemed to work.

skeletal formations in the deep

ink on paper

 

119 pictures in 2019 (56) ink

 

Archive shot for ANSH 136 (11) stamps

completely my design (simple, yes, but perfect).

The tattoo artist did absolutely nothing to it, but size it for me.

It is so perfect, and people are now approaching me to do designs for them. Very surreal.

Old portable Smith Corona Manuel Typewriter: I bought this typewriter new over 50 years ago when I was in high school. It was purchased from a school & office supply store in Hillsdale, Michigan USA.

 

In this photo, the ink ribbon has become entangled in the type levers. This close up lets you see the detail on some of the the type bars at the end of the levers.

 

The manual typewriter was replaced first by the electric typewriter, but then typewriters as a word processor were replaced by computers/laptops/tablets etc..

 

A photo of the typewriter from which this macro shot was taken can be viewed here.

Ink and watercolor on cartridge paper

Portrait created using Stable Diffusion

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