View allAll Photos Tagged NaturePoetry
Hay meadow, why do you let your hair grow wild?
Hay people, have you seen it draped in light?
Hay meadow, your grass plaits tall and fine
Hay people, for butterflies to climb
And folded wings to raise
Before opening in the haze...
Perched on the soft "canopy" of Bromus madritensis, an Adonis blue (Polyommatus bellargus) spread its wings — a whisper of sky, captured by an old friend: my very first DSLR, the Canon EOS Rebel T3, paired with a 100mm macro lens.
This image may be slightly blurred, but sometimes, memories are soft too.
And yet the feeling remains sharp — not because of the gear, but because of the moment.
I still remember the quiet joy, the trembling grass, the sudden flutter of fragile blue.
My old camera often rests in the shadows of newer ones — the 77D, the R7.
But here, with this butterfly, its heart beat once again.
📍 Shot handheld, early summer light, on a dry meadow that remembers every step.
I´ve to admit that it feels a bit strange posting these nice images of my last trip to Italy, knowing that in the same time there is going on the most terrible disaster in Japan.
My thoughts and empathy are with all the Japanese people.
It also makes realize that Mother Nature is still the only one ruler of this planet.
God bless Japan and its people!
Lago di Loppio is a lake in the Province of Trento, Trentino-Alto Adige/Südtirol, Italy.
size: 0.6 square kilometres
The lake is a protected biotop and has been drained as a result of the construction of the Galleria Adige-Garda in 1954. It occasionally fills up again for a short time when hit by heavy rain.
View On Black . . . bigger . . . View On Black
. . . just for fun . . . www.metacafe.com/watch/691228/shaun_the_sheep/
Daytime shuts its eye,
Leaving black velvet
To drape the thinning light.
Bold as a dream,
A flashlight tears the canvas,
Revealing a dazzling prince,
Golden, Awake.
Four o’clock flower — the silent magic of the evening
When the day retreats and the air pauses between light and dusk, the Four o’clock flower unfolds.
Mirabilis jalapa — the fragrance of childhood summers — blooms when the world grows quiet.
Its scent lingers gently, like a memory caught in the air,
and within its heart still glows the warmth of day — whispering of tomorrow’s dawn.
Peruanski noćurak — tiha čarolija večeri
Kad se dan povuče i zrak zastane između svjetla i tame, tada se otvori — noćurak.
Mirabilis jalapa, cvijet djetinjstva i ljetnih vrtova, rađa svoje boje dok sve drugo spava.
Miris mu je blag, ali uporan, poput uspomene koja se vraća svakim dahom večernjeg zraka.
A u njegovom srcu, ispod kapljica rose, još titra toplina dana — i obećanje novog jutra.
"Sea Shell, Sea Shell, Sing me a song,
A song of ships, and sailor men,
And parrots, and tropical trees,
Of islands, fishes and corals under the waves
And seahorses stabled in great green caves"
Holding a beautiful seashell and connecting distant places as shells are a bridge between the physical and the supernatural realm.
Shot with an HTC RE from the white island 'magical island' at Ras Mohamed National Park, only visible during low tide.
One of the most beautiful sites all over the world known for its clear water and exquisite coral reefs.
Sous l’arbre voilé,
La mésange douce se pose,
Souffle de douceur.
In a misty tree,
The gentle titmouse settles,
Whisper of pure calm.
. . . on black . . . Via Fluidr . . . (then click on image to view details LARGE) . . . bigger is definitely better
In Explore! On August 19, 2025
The „German International Photocup” is an annual international photography competition, organized as a circuit salon. It invites photographers worldwide to submit their work in multiple categories. GIP partners:
Organizers will judge over 1,100 entrants with more than 12,500 images in 2025.
In „Open Monochrome” category, „WHEN A MOTH IS FOLLOWING YOU” was accepted (Mono Salon Kochertal: Acc).
Sous les verts feuillages,
La mésange douce se pose,
Souffle de tendresse.
Under green foliage,
The gentle titmouse lands,
Breath of tenderness.
Bright yellow sunshine, gentle and bold,
Falls on a garden of marigold gold.
But tallest of all, with a radiant face,
The sunflower stands in sunlit grace
A bypass is no place for a bird
Lighter than a pound’s diminutive mint.
It’s feet are tiny tender hooks,
Grappling a cable’s scratchy climb
But when it’s time to sing its tune
No tarmac clatter jars its breath
No drill of builders’ Liebher Rig
Wrecks its urge to crank its song
Trembling feathers, rattling din
A siren reeling in to blue
We won’t forget the £1 wren,
Its voice as stern as brass.