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little eyes watching you
eyelashes like shades . . .
easing the bright light
if you look carefully
you will see . . .
they flutter in the wind
so naturally :-)
Poem by www.flickr.com/photos/beverleyplaya/
MKU_0140
Fauré by
Thylacine
Music by French composer Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924).
remixed by Thylacine, French electronic music producer.
m.youtube.com/watch?v=Kuk0Bq2BMkQ&list=RDKuk0Bq2BMkQ&...
* * * * * * * * * * *
The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.
By Emily Dickinson, 1862
Here I am with you dear, no yesterday nor tomorrow
Hold on to my hand, close your eyes, see the glow
No stranger am I, or you, to this land
Got this birth, deputed, not for own lots to mend
See the green boughs stirred, by the gentle wind
Free the flowers dance, merrily they unwind
From interlocking leaves, by themselves, their own will
Never solitary you are here, why fear this lovely place
What is part of you, is part of everything around
See that part of whole, and the whole this Existence
The fire is always same, whatever makes it burn
Never does the light perish, nowhere does it go
- Anuj Nair
www.flickr.com/photos/anujnair/4836720405/in/photostream/
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© 2010 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
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© 2010 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
All images and poems are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images and poems without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000). All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed, posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.
Poems Of The Atoms — Armand Amar
youtu.be/si6rLeYU5BQ?si=o3z_wtnXWcnESZeV
O day, arise! The atoms are dancing.
The souls are dancing, overcome with ecstasy.
I'll whisper in your ear where their dance is taking them.
All the atoms in the air and in the desert know well, they seem insane.
Every single atom, happy or miserable,
Becomes enamoured of the sun, of which nothing can be said.
Another Sunday, another poem. First the English Translation, then the German original. Have a wonderful day!
Mist Over the River
The river drifts so still, so mild,
and carries dreams where they’ve been filed.
Tell me, what will lie ahead?
Words the wind has softly shed.
A silver mist wraps all around,
it makes the distant small, profound.
And though no eye can clearly see,
the current whispers: “Go on, be free…”
Each wave speaks gently, calm and true:
Each morning grants a power new.
And in the haze, the heart still knows:
The river softly, quietly flows.
Here the Original:
Nebel über dem Fluss
Der Fluss zieht still und sanft dahin,
und trägt die Träume fort darin.
Sag mir, was wird vor uns liegen?
Worte, die im Wind verfliegen.
Ein Silbernebel hüllt uns ein,
er macht das Ferne sanft und klein.
Denn auch wenn keiner klar es sieht,
der Strom uns flüstert: "Geht weiter, zieht..."
Jede Welle sagt uns sacht:
Jeder Morgen schenkt neue Macht.
Und in dem Dunst das Herz noch weiß:
Der Fluss fließt still, der Fluss fließt leis.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zHnZP2FmLCc&list=RDzHnZP2FmLC...
The River - Bruce Springsteen
When I spoke to you I suppose I spoke.
To you when I spoke I spoke I suppose.
I spoke I suppose when I spoke to you.
I suppose I spoke to you when I spoke.
- by Özdemir Asaf
Mischievous Minds | Peter Gundry
the trees | tilda swinton & max richter
youtu.be/7mblqbz-1XI?si=MzcJfz4kTFa41hT4
When Thomas brought the news that the house I was born in no longer exists
Neither the name, nor the park sloping to the river
Nothing
I had a dream of return
Multi-coloured
Joyous
I was able to fly
And the trees were even higher than in childhood
Because they had been growing during all the years since they had been cut down.
Flying Poem - Leg Tattoo - Color [CAROL G] @ Blue Event
All the details:
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.
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
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
Suddenly the smell of mimosas
like a breathing torch
or like an immemorial wave
that kisses the expectant nudity of the beach.
It's just the door
that opens, but sets in motion
an air where it curdles
all the sweetness of this precarious autumn.
by Jorge Riechmann
::Bella's Lullaby:: www.flickr.com/groups/14818647@N22/, Forks (125, 128, 30) - Moderado
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)
― Sanober Khan, Turquoise Silence
Came To The Rescue (Live) Hillsong United
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nx89HkszEB8
Blog Post
sllorinovo.blogspot.com/2017/12/tiffany-designs-solstice-...
"Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky."
- Author Unknown
Some trees are more interesting without their leaves.
When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.”
Wisława Szymborska
Poems, New And Collected
............................................. “Midway”
I don’t know all the bright and shinning paths to heaven,
But I do know that midway along the way we choose
between shadow...and light.
I don’t know if a day shall be marked... "end of days"
But I do know that if it were so, it would fall midway
between counted yesterdays and uncounted tomorrows.
I don’t know if any breath bent to word can truly be true
But I do know the moments most pure are laid midway
between a breath drawn ...and a sigh released.
I don’t know if one should whisper aloud just how passionate the kiss
But I do know that given the chance I would linger midway
between your longest …and your sweetest.
I don’t know how far exactly from "here"... to "there",
But I do know that "midway" is charted somewhere-
between the setting of sails and the lifting of anchors.
...Sigh,
I won't pretend... I don’t know all the bright and shinning paths to heaven.
But I do know that when I follow you -
..."heaven" is found on a wing and a prayer, midway
-between a divided cloud, and a last sacred light of day.
...
.
.
.
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....
makE a wiSh...
i dOn't thiNk i cOuld wish to prEtend wheN i'm wrOng is riGht
i dOn't wisH whEn shE's black tO shE's whitE
:
:
bUt thE wOrld is toO cRude and manY peoplE
arE ignorant tO havE timE tO givE uS aN advice
beLieVinG what thE trUe maN saiD,hE's insidE
:
yOu dOn't feeL....
:
:
i knOw onlY feW mEn havE a _
:
:
Sight.
i wish yOu knOw .....
_ mE
For Caturday “Masterpieces”.
“I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her coat is of the tabby kind, with tiger stripes and leopard spots.
All day she sits upon the stair or on the steps or on the mat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits - and that what makes a Gumbie Cat!”
From Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats by T S Eliot
A Poem for William Basinski:
William Basinski has probably never worn flip flops
William Basinski can make fireflies dance with abandon
William Basinski only goes shopping in the middle of the night
William Basinski
William Basinski
William Basinski
I don’t need a body anymore.
I only need songs.
William Basinski sings lullabies to piranhas and turns them into goldfish
William Basinski eats words for breakfast
William Basinski doesn’t think about his appendix very often.
William Basinski
William Basinski
William Basinski
The street lights were all on when I biked home because the
City finally paid its electric bill.
William Basinski was a distinguished giraffe in his former life.
William Basinski has extra bones that help him stand so straight.
William Basinski is from another galaxy but still keeps his Southern accent
William Basinski
William Basinski
William Basinski
His heart is too big for his chest.
He makes music so we can finally rest.
William Basinski can hear peaches sigh.
William Basinski has a scarf to keep the world warm
William Basinski is part of our collective consciousness
William Basinski
William Basinski
William Basinski
He gave me a hug once and I liked it.
**All photos are copyrighted**
Original and period cafes and bars like this are in my mind so much more welcoming than the bright, colourful modern day plastic adorned poem. To show the detail I decided monotone was the better choice of presentation.
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
hi dear girl and boys,how's everything?
l watched many movies these days and l feel much better now.how about u recently?
after my movie time,l want to read one elegant poem for you this night.
and also need to listen ♫ Our Hell of Emily Haines.
-
A long - long Sleep - A famous - Sleep -
That makes no show for Morn -
By Stretch of Limb - or stir of Lid -
An independent One -
Was ever idleness like This ?
Upon a Bank of Stone
To bask the Centuries away -
Nor once look up - for Noon ?
一個漫長 - 漫長的睡眠 - 一個有名的 - 睡眠 -
毫無晨起的跡象 -
伸展四肢 - 或眨一下眼皮-
一個獨立的睡眠 -
可曾有這樣賴床的嗎?
躺在堆疊的石頭上
曬上數世紀的太陽 -
甚至看都不看正午一眼?
*The Poems of Emily Dickinson #654*
9/6
CHANGING LEAVES
As I shuffle down the path leading through the park,
As the days grow shorter now and soon it will be dark.
I realize that life is like the seasons we live through,
Life is like the changing seasons always changing too.
Only then we realize that life has changed so fast,
Only then we realize that nothing ever last.
Life goes through the seasons as the years accumulate,
Many times we long for summer when it is too late.
~ excerpts from the poem of James A. Kisner ~