Metaphor and Analogy - **In Title or Description**
View allAll Photos Tagged Metaphors
signalling a new direction
For some time now I've struggled to keep up with flickr...
I try to think of ways to be generous and reciprocal
and also meet my own needs to be more playful...
to have more time and energy for making images
and also for making lucid comments ;-)
For now I'm going to try being more flexible...
embrace a little more imperfection :-)
I'll still respond to comments
(this connection brings me happiness )
and I'll enjoy visiting those who leave them :-)
But I'll be more free about timing...
and not respond to every fave.
Tho I'll try to recognise loyal and wordless fave givers
I am, after all, often one myself.
Not an easy change to make.
But something has to give.
So here's to generosity and freedom.
Meet you
at the intersection ;-)
Forth Road Bridge 13 Dec 2015
The FRB is shrouded in all kinds of things - fog, political smokescreens, uncertainty, to name but a few.
Hopefully the bridge really will open again on 04 January 2016. I feel most sorry for the cancer patients having to travel miles extra for daily treatment in Edinburgh.
Please see my other photos of Edinburgh & the Lothians at www.jamespdeans.co.uk/p399603778
No one remembered to put in their original teeth
at the plant nursing home
so they can’t tell the nurses and aides
to turn off Fox news
and they wither like they’ve been
left for an eternity to suffer
for all their long lost sins.
**All poems and photos are copyrighted**
We can express our feelings regarding the world around us either by poetic or by descriptive means. I prefer to express myself metaphorically. Let me stress: metaphorically, not symbolically. A symbol contains within itself a definite meaning, certain intellectual formula, while metaphor is an image. An image possessing the same distinguishing features as the world it represents. An image — as opposed to a symbol — is indefinite in meaning. One cannot speak of the infinite world by applying tools that are definite and finite. We can analyse the formula that constitutes a symbol, while metaphor is a being-within-itself, it's a monomial. It falls apart at any attempt of touching it.
― Andrei Tarkovsky
When I think of Istanbul,
Yahya Kemal used to come to mind
Now Orhan Veli comes to mind
You've been on the tip of my tongue for a while now, Orhan Veli
Your taste, your salt,
Your poetry, your face
Like a wounded dove
It circles above my head
It comes and silently lands somewhere in this poem
Where? Those who seek will find
Those who know, know
This city drives people crazy
May your glasses clink, Orhan Veli
A child’s toy and an old bench....childhood and old age.... A visual metaphor? Or maybe just a little boy who got called to lunch and left his trike on the sidewalk!
My metaphor range is strange as angles
You get tangled, twist inside affections
Channels repeat, complete, can't compete
Check the hour texture, mind adventure
Exploit the point into tracks, to devour
My intellects proceed, with diesel power
RIP Keith Flint
Unless there is the iPhone icon, all photos were taken with a Nikon or more recently, with a Sony Mirrorless. I ioften import the images to a 12.9 inch iPad for editing.
At a time of a historic pandemic and racial discord/violence, major league baseball seems to reflect the times. Even as the virus may be waning, the different sides (the teams and the players) cannot agree yet on what's fair compensation for a shortened season. As a baseball fan who loves the idea of the USA...and it's the first country started as an idea if you think about it....I hope the sides can come together. Maybe the stitching's just gotten too loose and we can tighten them up a bit?
Waterfalls are my favorite metaphors. Each and every one of them effortlessly recounts one or the other little fragment of mine… my thoughts, moods, and/or emotions. Some, like melancholia, flow year-round; others are seasonal, like tears. Some are bright and mighty; others are tender and lucent in grey dark light. Some roar, sing, or whistle; others listen. Some guard secrets; others spill them. Some remain strangers; others become friends even before I get to know their name. Some flutter like my soul-songs; others, like the one above, are my incomplete poems.
I can’t help it, I love to snap gate or stile. Surrounded with all this beauty and rough manmade wooden construction catches my eye every time. It’s got to be physiology, but what, the mind boggles. An invitation to pastures new, a transition, a way through a life barrier. Who knows, all I know, next time my travels encounters one, more often or not I’ll get the camera out. I wouldn’t care after slogging up to this one I didn’t pass through it, something told me to stay on this side of the wall, may be that’s the metaphor I should ponder.
Nice metaphor for a lot of life’s situations and changes on the soon horizon…good things to come, starting with my health after Covid.
Each year I find myself pulled in many different directions and usually forget to take care of myself and my own interests along the way. My creative side goes into hibernation and inevitably lose my mojo.
Here’s to getting back on track for myself sooner than later. I can’t wait to share more.
AI, Photoshop
"I want to know, have you ever seen the rain coming down on a sunny day?" ️☀️
This song released around the start of 1971 & is a visual interpretation of the classic Creedence Clearwater Revival track, "Have You Ever Seen the Rain." John Fogerty wrote the song about rain falling during a beautiful, sunlit day—a metaphor for the internal sadness and tension the band felt right at the peak of their mainstream success.
To capture that emotional dichotomy, I wanted to contrast a bright, golden desert sunset with a sudden desert downpour. The isolated 1970s-style highway and remote gas station add to the themes of a lonely journey and transition.
In her day-to-day, ahead seems gray, but with her reflexive gaze, creativity comes to life.
I'm just trying my hand at some fine arts photography. Mosquitoes bit me 27 times while taking this picture. She was bit 12 times before we realized that we were being eaten alive. So much anti-itch spray!
2/12 Literary Devices/Techniques - Metaphor
Collective 52 Photo Project.
To make the journey try this - transport provided on the label.
Metaphor from: www.wineanorak.com/journey.htm
I'm very fortunate to live in a rural area with easy access to woodlands, meadows, streams, ridge lines, valleys, and crop fields. I derive a great deal of energy and mental stimulation by entering into these spaces. I used to think it was the result of the oxygen released by plants. But it's much more than that. The visuals are quite often stunning, and motivate my creative mind. However I feel the same energy even if I take no photos at all. For me it's all about being immersed into scenes such as this, both literally and emotionally.
Walking through this meadow filled with dead and withered leaves filled me with a sense of life and vitality. Don't ask me to explain the dichotomy. It just is. There's simply as much (or even more) energy here now as there was months ago when this was all lush and green.
This was one of those scenes that felt every bit as eerie as the resulting photo. Standing in this old cemetery on the verge of sunset with the setting sun shining through the gravestones like a macabre Stonehenge. The very last rays of warm light illuminating the hillside before me, soon to be pitched into the inky blackness of a November night. I thought about the visual metaphors for life and death, crossing the boundary between day and night, and as always that weird tingle when I find myself right on the dividing line between two opposing energy forces. Moments like this are always fleeting and that's only adds to the excitement. Not simply fleeting but heavily nuanced in both light and mood. I could return for the next year of sunsets but they would never look or feel exactly the same as this one. I'm existing in the moment this frame is captured, and it becomes part of my history the moment the shutter closes. I can look back at it but never return to it. But that doesn't lessen the memory. It's actually haunting in a way. Even now I can't imagine how I came to be standing in this exact spot at this exact moment. It just happened.
Ish 58:12)
Ish 8:13-20)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=9PnXcP8ZI7M
www.youtube.com/watch?v=gvtysMcgGik
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jpab7t9tmPo
In the song, sailing can be understood as a metaphor for finding an activity that clears a person’s mind. There is another line in the song, which refers to painting: The canvas can do miracles. According to Cross, the song’s lyrics also speak about the transformative power of art.
It’s not far to never never land
No reason to pretend
And if the wind is right you can find the joy
Of innocence again
Oh, the canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see, believe me
I'm fascinated by the many ways the growing season reverses course. Bit by bit, every bit of plant life that emerged and thrived in spring and summer now must die. Some go out in a blaze of vibrant color. Others die a sickly death, punctuated by black spots, discoloration, and a slow shrivel. I love the in-between phase...clinging grimly to life in the face of the inevitable. And even after the cold death of the killing frost, some tenacious plants manage to hang on. Sometimes frozen in an upright state, looking outwardly as if still alive although all life function has ceased. I've got sunflowers out in my garage, dead for years now, but still locked in their life pose. Not sure why I save things like this, but I do enjoy looking at them and appreciate the life-death association they bring to mind whenever I see them. I love shooting bright autumn hues, but more often the most satisfying moments involve the times before and after peak color. And particularly when there is some sort of context or juxtaposition for the transition. I found it here in an old cemetery; quite literally just stumbled upon this miniature scene. A vine had crept up the side of a funerary sculpture over the summer. One shriveled leaf served as a blindfold for the angel. An amazing metaphor for life and death.