El título son dos versos del poema Soy esa flor de Alfonsina Storni

Atrevido artista,

que robaste el color de mis pétalos con premeditación y alevosía,

para que otros mortales descubrieran la ambrosía perfumada

en tu deslumbrante jardín de cristal. El tesoro de olores

se escapa entre los claros y oscuros con impaciencia,

efímera existencia, mitológica,

inalcanzable, alucinante,

hasta hoy

saboreada

solamente

por los

dioses.

Edwincolonpagan (edwincolonpagan.wordpress.com/ )

Claire Lynch - Black Flowers

hakata sanpo with 446san

Flying Poem - Leg Tattoo - Color [CAROL G] @ Blue Event

All the details:

where3.blogspot.com/2023/12/flying-poem.html

The "City of dreaming spires" reference to Oxford and its university comes originally from an 1866 poem of Matthew Arnold.

For Gerard - 7 mei 2009 - 7 mei 2026 - Always near

This is the lid of the box containing a kind of book, Poems by Sea.

I created this work during my 5th year at the Academy in Arendonk, Belgium.

I will show the book pages at a later time.

These are photos taken with the Agfa Isolette, subsequently exposed onto a zinc plate using digital transparency and photopolymer, and printed with the etching press.

each man finally trapped and broken

each grave ready

each hawk killed

and love and luck too

the poems have ended

the throat is dry

I suppose there's no funeral for this

and no tears and no reason

pain's the master

pain is silent

the throats of my poems are dry.

by Charles Bukowski

183 times | Greg Haines

youtu.be/hm9JTnB6tmI?si=qOoFPRB4hgIiN9zi

We have lost even this twilight.

No one saw us this evening hand in hand

while the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my window

the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sun

burned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenched

in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?

Who else was there?

Saying what?

Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly

when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilight

and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the evenings

toward the twilight erasing statues.

Pablo Neruda

Panjin - www.flickr.com/groups/panjin/, Overland Hills (248, 47, 21) - Moderado

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Overland%20Hills/249/47/21

Cut flowers. Macro.

Image taken from Fort Canning Park in Singapore .

Love poem.. found in little Italy :)

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Little%20Italy/60/66/26

Ritzville, Washington

Love is like a Gull.

It needs the high and far flights of Freedom.

But if it wants,

it will come back,

strengthened and in deep Love,

for it´s been gone.

i know more than i think i know,

and i know less than i want to know . and it continues slowly.

i try to keep up

.

.

no big glittery icons or invitations , please !

Et je m'en vais

Au vent mauvais

Qui m'emporte

Deçà, delà,

Pareil à la

Feuille morte.

Paul Verlaine (Chanson d'automne)

Another Sunday Poem, first the English translation, followed by the German Original. And then you will find one of my favorite songs - as always.

Desert Sunset

In a dusty town where silence lies,

The sunset burns the crimson skies.

Golden dunes in evening’s glow,

Whisper secrets winds still know.

A slender stream begins to gleam,

Like silver threading through a dream.

Its waters hum a lullaby,

Of life that stirs, yet passes by.

Though barren lands may seem forlorn,

The river sings of hope reborn.

For in its flow, the village sees

A promise carried on the breeze.

Hier das Original:

Wüstensonnenuntergang

In einem staub'gen, stillen Ort

Brennt die Sonne rot im Nord.

Gold’ne Dünen, sanft im Licht,

Flüstern, was der Wind verspricht.

Ein schmaler Fluss beginnt zu blühn,

Wie Silberfäden, die verglühn.

Sein Wasser summt ein leises Lied

Vom Leben, das vorüberzieht.

So karg das Land, so leer der Blick,

Der Fluss bringt Hoffnung still zurück.

Denn in dem Strom erkennt man sacht

Ein neues Leben, das erwacht.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3lWwBslWqg

Desert Rose - Sting

Little Southern Toad. Having toads in your yard means a healthy environment.

I immediately regretted leaving my pencil lying around when I stepped away. I am still impressed by how good a memory plants have for remembering poems learned years ago.

"The hyacinths laugh and chat amongst themselves, and wink at the stars; the roses whisper sweet nothings in each other's ears."

Heinrich Heine.

............................................. “Midway”

...

.

.

.

Greg Hughey Revised August 29, 2004 / 2nd revision August 1, 2007 "/3rd (smile) February 18th, 2014" ** ©

* dedicated to the "soul mates", deep within us all....

I THINK

by Clancy (Fancy-Pants) Donnelly

I think that I shall never find

An owner who could be more kind

"Aw, that's sweet--wait, did you break something?"

I think that I shall never fail

To love the Prescott-Russell Trail

I think that for an active dog

The place to be is Mer Bleue Bog

I think it would be tough to find

A dog brain intelligent as mine

"Oh, brother."

I think no matter where you roam

You'll find nothing wonderful as my poem

"You done?"

Yes. What did you think?

"I think that I shall never see

a bigger ego than has Clancy."

Hey, not bad, I can use that!

(Two milestones reached with Clancy's previous photo (Stop and Smell the Echinacea): First photo with 50K+ views; and 1M+ total views. Who'da thunk it almost two years ago when we started this whole thing? Not us. Thank you!)

________________________________________________

Mer Bleue, Ottawa, Ontario

283. Clancy, 4yrs 23wks

Clancy's YEARBOOK 5: www.flickr.com/photos/130722340@N04/albums/72157675110790161

Perhaps alone at night in your room,

you will hear someone calling you without knowing who,

and you will learn then that there are things like the wind,

that certainly exist, but cannot be seen...

And it is also possible that one weary afternoon,

like a furrow blooming, a longing will be reborn within you,

and you will learn then that there are things like the river,

that are always flowing away, but never truly leave...

Or as you cross a street, your smiling heart

will remember a sorrow you didn't feel yesterday,

and you will learn then that there are things like dreams,

things that have never been, but that can be...

However much you may prefer to ignore these things,

you will know why you sigh when you hear a song,

and you will learn then that there are things like roses,

things that are beautiful without knowing they are...

And one ordinary afternoon, you will feel that you have gone,

and a breath of ash will water your garden,

and you will learn then that time And oblivion

are the only things that never end.

By José Ángel Buesa

Ravenmere Redwoods, Ravenmere (233, 130, 21) - Moderado

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Ravenmere/233/130/21

.

Winner of contest Bw 106 in The 500x500 / SQUARE format group

©annedhuart

Your breast is enough for my heart,

and my wings for your freedom.

What was sleeping above your soul will rise

out of my mouth to heaven.

In you is the illusion of each day.

You arrive like the dew to the cupped flowers.

You undermine the horizon with your absence.

Eternally in flight like the wave.

I have said that you sang in the wind

like the pines and like the masts.

Like them you are tall and taciturn,

and you are sad, all at once, like a voyage.

You gather things to you like an old road.

You are peopled with echoes and nostalgic voices.

I awoke and at times birds fled and migrated

that had been sleeping in your soul.

Pablo Neruda

No known address

in a pot

pale pink

soft scent

hints of green

heartfelt thanks for all visits, faves and comments

autumn. I feel the arrival of a new season.

I was in a long sleep. I went outdoors to be called in by the new sound of the wind. I took out a brand new manuscript paper. I'm thinking of starting to write a new story.

George Winston: Autumn - Full Album

www.youtube.com/watch?v=JKmqyQUDehs&t=862s

www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFMg8Dogc44

George Winston - Longing Love

Luanes World -Romantic sim, Gallery & :LW: Poses main store

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Slice%20of%20Heaven/195/21...

A romantic sim where you can relax, cuddle or hang out with friends. Made with photography in mind, and also features :LW: Pose main store, and a gallery with some of my favorite artists:)

www.flickr.com/groups/2855656@N21/

Luca

::K:: Cotton Cardigan Homme(SLINK) Pastel Blue

[Deadwool] Kojima jeans - Geralt - (rolled up) - river

Vango. Joseph

[ hoorenbeek ] Bruin Sneakers - Men

[Z O O M] Lombard Glasses

Layla

Alexa knit leggings--Smesh

Alexa knit top--Smesh

Alexa knit warmers--Smesh

Aurora platforms--Phedora

Thais hair--Doux

POSE

:LW: Bento Poses - Better

Taken in South San Francisco

From a classic VW Bulli T1

“Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.”

― Khalil Gibran

To feel poetry is all around you,

the music flows from everywhere,

that you are inside a romantic painting

and emotions overwhelms you!

That's what I wish, that's what I lived there...

Sentir que la poesía está a tu alrededor,

que la música brota de cada rincón,

que formas parte de una pintura romántica

y tus emociones te embargan!

Eso es lo que deseo, eso es lo que viví allí...

Trees are poems that earth writes upon the sky,

We fell them down and turn them into paper,

That we may record our emptiness.

~Kahlil Gibran

Fortepiyano çalıyor

Gittikçe umutsuz bir müzik

*

Taklacı güvercin havalanır

Birisinin beyaz avucundan

*

Gece çiçeği gibi açık

Kendimi bırakıyorum

Poem seen through the window of Earnest Sewn in NYC

image description

Please mark your calendars to join us at RGG for the Opening Event of Eli and me:

Friday, 8th October 11:00 am - 1:00 pm SLT

We hope to see you there :)

Raging Graphix Gallery

"To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go". ~Mary Oliver

... actually, I have no idea.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

By Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

Only you and me

Exploring each other

Without any boundaries

There is something taboo in love?

I just know that I love you and you love me

Only you and me

Without any TV to get the news

Because us, the most important news we need to know

Without any cell phone ringing

Because your voice is all I want to hear

Without any internet connection

Because only with you the connection I would like to make

Only you and me

Make love on the beach

While we are listening the sound of the wave

With starlight and moon around us

Only you and me….

it will be the perfect day

Poetry by Maria Chroniari.

Poem Pierre Kemp

'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.'

Robert Frost

"If you cannot be a poet, be the poem. "

~David Carradine

Will be published in the Spring 2009 Issue of Life Images Magazine

Left alone

In Thoreau's cabin

Broom in the corner

An alchemy of spirits

An ungloved hand, writing

There and everywhere

Swept away

.

.

©Christine A. Evans 12.19.17

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I really appreciate your comments and faves. I'm not a hoarder of contacts, but enjoy real-life, honest people. You are much more likely to get my comments and faves in return if you fit the latter description. Just sayin. :oD

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If you like b/w photography and/or poetry check out my page at:

expressionsbychristine.blogspot.com/</a