View allAll Photos Tagged Pyre
Doors - Light My Fire
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAx4OvRmppY
You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now, we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire, yeah
The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now, we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire, yeah
You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Link to the Tourney: www.flickr.com/groups/tourney2016/
Bracket - 2
Category - Scavenger: Visit the location of a recent battle. Who was fighting? Who won (if there was a winner)? Do encounter survivors? Do you bury the fallen? Include a scavenger, broken equipment, perhaps a medic's tent or a funeral pyre?
My competitor - www.moc-pages.com/home.php/108015
My build for round 2 of The Tourney. It was inspired by Brother Steven’s Friðsælt Falls, and David Leest’s Darius The Thief builds.
After a recent battle for a bridge in Bodus Minor, some villagers come to care for the wounded and bury the dead.
See lots more pictures here: www.brickbuilt.org/?p=3007
I'm quite happy with how this turned out :)
Where some funeral pyres are active. Iconic part of an iconic city. Kindly look in lightbox or fullscreen. For the description of the place see my earlier posts of the place.
*Death — man’s last voyage. For many in India, to be cremated here on the banks of the holy River Ganga (Ganges) is the ultimate step toward eternal peace. The flames never cease. Here, time folds into itself — centuries of ritual, faith, and farewell playing out beside the sacred Ganges. Families bring the bodies of their loved ones to the ghats, knowing that for a brief, sacred moment all barriers dissolve — no caste, no social divisions, only the shared truth of mortality.
The air is thick with incense, woodsmoke, and quiet chants, as each pyre, fed by hand-cut logs ferried in by boat, carries not only a body but a soul toward moksha — liberation from the cycle of rebirth. If cremation on this sacred spot is not possible, they come from far and wide to have the ashes dispersed into the river’s holy waters.
Amid the solemnity, life moves on: priests chant, cows wander, and the river flows on, indifferent yet eternal. Once again in a scene like this, life and death walk side by side, each sustaining the other… This is Benares. This is India.*
I haven't uploaded in a while *coughyoutooExxcough* I haven't cause I have to celebrate my sister's 3rd birthday, my brother's 20th birthday, and I can't think of anything esle.
._.
Happy now Pyre?
Beata Maria
You know I am a righteous man
Of my virtue I am justly proud
Beata Maria
You know I'm so much purer than
The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd
Then tell me, Maria
Why I see her dancing there
Why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul
I feel her, I see her
The sun caught in her raven hair
Is blazing in me out of all control
Like fire, Hellfire
This fire in my skin
This burning Desire
Is turning me to sin
It's not my fault
I'm not to blame
It is the gypsy girl
The witch who sent this flame
It's not my fault
If in God's plan
He made the devil so much
Stronger than a man
Protect me, Maria
Don't let this siren cast her spell
Don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone
Destroy Esmeralda
And let her taste the fires of hell
Or else let her be mine and mine alone
Hellfire, Dark fire
Now gypsy, it's your turn
Choose me or
Your pyre
Be mine or you will burn
God have mercy on her
God have mercy on me
But she will be mine
Or she will burn!
~Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame - Hellfire
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDacUZ-bEhE
Note: This is the second part of a two-part series; the first being Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame: "Heaven's Light."
Link: www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/49914394111/in/datepo...
The final image in a series where I 'zoomed' closer and closer to isolate sunset on the horizon
blogged here: djenglandphotography.blogspot.com/2023/02/photo-of-week-2...
Ara dels sacrificis. (Sant Sebastia de la Guarda). Llafranc, Palafrugell. Costa Brava. Spain.
An amorphous basin with two lips on top of a monolithic stack. I did not measure, but the stone is around 2m high. Here, one of the lips out from the basin can be clearly seen.
The certain element to the term 'sacrificial stone' is that it was a stigma favored in the Medieval. Here there is no obvious pole hole for attaching an animal which would largely disappear from view within the deep basin. A podium for a pyre and basins for water ceremonies are alternatives, bearing in mind that one site can change its function with date. The interior basin is currently rounded by weathering. It might be interesting to see how much a stone can change over - let's say, 500 years.
Similar stones have been reported as having late neolithic origin, with others pointing to the iron age. Just such a stone asks for attention with attention being a prerequisite for ritual and gathering.
Vestiges of an Iberian village can be found withing a short walk.
AJ
Early morning out on the river, this time of day seems to be the busiest on the water with pilgrims and tourists out in many boats.
In the background on the ghat you can still see smoke rising from a funeral pyre post cremation. For me this was a very poignant moment. The sombre atmosphere on the banks of the river was very tangible as people laid their dead to rest.
River Ganges, Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh - India
I have wanted to do a witch scene for quite a while, and explosions too, and smoke, and frogs, and so on, so I just dumped them all into a single creation ;) I quite like how it turned out, but I could use some feedback on the backdrop edit: I might have gone totally overboard with the editing, but I'm not sure...
Cremation Ghats in New Delhi, NIGHAMBODH GHAT
a woman who cared for many her whole long life is now burned on a pyre.
This is the Hindu custom.
This is usually/always done by male members of the family.
Woman are not usually present at the actual Pyre site.
Photography’s new conscience
If the sad old world should jump a cog,
some time in it's dizzy spinning
and go off track with a sudden jog
what an end would come to the sinning
what rest from strife and the burdens of life for the millions of people in it.
what way out of care, worry and wear
all in a beautiful minute.
As round the sun in a curving sweep
it hurries and runs and races
should it lose its balance, and go with a leap into vast sea-spaces,
What a blest relief it would bring to the grief and trouble and toil about us.
To be suddenly hurled from the solar world and let it go on without us.
With not a sigh or a sad goodbye
for loved ones left behind us
we should go with a plunge and a mighty lunge where never a grave should find us.
What a wild mad thrill our viens would fill as the earth like a feather should float through the air to God knows where and carry us all together.
No dark dank tomb, no mourners gloom
no tolling bell in the steeple
but in one swift breath a painless death
for a million, billion people
what greater bliss could we ask than this
to sweep with a birds free motion
through leauges of space to a resting place
in a vast and vapoury ocean-
to pass away from this life for aye
with never a dear tie sundered
and a world on fire for a funeral pyre
while the stars looked on and wondered.
Ella Wheeler-Wilcox written in 1886
Young men engaged in the Pyrrhiche dance.
According to all written sources from antiquity, the Pyrrhic dance was an armed dance. Euripides and other writers say that it was created by Pyrrhos, which was another name for Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles. Pyrrhos danced it after he defeated Eyrypylos, an ally of the Trojans. The name "Pyrrhos" is allegedly related to the funeral pyre because, according to tradition, it was Achilles again who first performed this dance next to the funeral pyre of his dead friend, Patroclos. Athena, too, danced it on two occasions: immediately after her birth (when she sprang from Zeus' s head) and after the victory over the Giants.
The Pyrrhic dance was danced in formation, or singly, on various occasions: privately, at festivals, or at banquets. It was significant at the Panathenaic Festival, where a kind of competition seems to have been held. In a votive relief of the Classical period, a prize-winning Pyrrhic dancer is carried shoulder-high and strikes same attitude as Athena on Panathenaic amphorae.The dance seems to have been part of the Panathenaic Festival for a long time
Attic white-ground black-figured lekythos
Ca. 480 BC
Athens, Museum of Pavlos and Alexandra Kanellopoulos
The Roth Energy siding is served with by an approximately 2 km spur that runs right alongside the busy Rhinealee. The spur once served several more customers but today Roth is the last. There are a number of interesting photo angles along the spur that I was hoping to get, but alas, catching this job was a bit of pyric victory. Atypically the train ran with the locomotive on the north end both ways, which meant that the only shots were while switching the customer. So will have to try again.....the next round looks ready to go tomorrow, maybe better luck?
In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.
Steel chambers, late the pyres
Of her salamandrine fires,
Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.
Over the mirrors meant
To glass the opulent
The sea-worm crawls - grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.
Jewels in joy designed
To ravish the sensuous mind
Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.
Dim moon-eyed fishes near
Gaze at the gilded gear
And query: “What does this vaingloriousness down here?”. . .
Well: while was fashioning
This creature of cleaving wing,
The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything
Prepared a sinister mate
For her - so gaily great -
A Shape of Ice, for the time fat and dissociate.
And as the smart ship grew
In stature, grace, and hue
In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.
Alien they seemed to be:
No mortal eye could see
The intimate welding of their later history.
Or sign that they were bent
By paths coincident
On being anon twin halves of one August event,
Till the Spinner of the Years
Said “Now!” And each one hears,
And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.
Poem by Thomas Hardy
In memory of them all T.P
On October, 31st 2008 I made a decision to dedicate a painting to every person and animal that died in the sinking of RMS Titanic April, 15th 1912. This resulted in a great deal of research and becoming acquainted with many interesting people, who have supported my endeavours. I then realised that people had died during the building of this magnificent ship and decided to add them to my list. In total I painted 1,600 paintings.
I share some of the paintings with you and will be uploading works from this collection to mark the 100th Anniversary of Titanic’s sinking which falls on April 15th 2012.
♫ - Paintings and Music by Sophie Shapiro
Photography by Pryere - Pryere
Notre-Dame de Paris en feu_ la flèche s’est effondrée sur elle-même DSC003
Le quartier Notre-Dame est le 16e quartier administratif de Paris situé dans le 4e arrondissement. Il comprend l’île Saint-Louis et la partie de l’île de la Cité située à l'est du boulevard du Palais.
Il tire son nom de la cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris.
crues et tranchées, l’une toute noire, l’autre toute rouge, semblaient plus grandes
encore de toute l’immensité de l’ombre qu’elles projetaient jusque dans le ciel.
Leurs innombrables sculptures de diables et de dragons prenaient un aspect lugubre.
La clarté inquiète de la flamme les faisait remuer à l’œil. Il y avait des guivres
qui avaient l’air de rire, des gargouilles qu’on croyait entendre japper,
des salamandres qui soufflaient dans le feu, des tarasques qui éternuaient dans la fumée.
Et parmi ces monstres ainsi réveillés de leur sommeil de pierre par cette flamme,
par ce bruit, il y en avait un qui marchait et qu’on voyait de temps en temps passer
sur le front ardent du bûcher comme une chauve-souris devant une chandelle".
l’hommage que lui rendait Victor Hugo en 1831 dans le chapitre 1
du livre 3 de son roman du même nom.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What they saw was extraordinary, on the top of the highest gallery,
higher than the central rosette, there was a big flame that rose between
the two spiers with whirlwinds of sparks, a big, messy flame
and furious whose wind at times carried off a rag in the smoke.
Beneath this flame, below the gloomy ember clover balustrade,
two gutters mouths of monsters vomited relentlessly this fiery rain
which detached its silver run-off on the darkness of the lower facade.
As they approached the ground, the two streams of liquid lead widened
in sheaves, like the water that springs from the thousand holes of the watering can.
Above the flame, the enormous towers, each of which had two faces
raw and sliced, one all black, the other all red, seemed larger
from all the immensity of the shadow that they projected into the sky.
Their innumerable sculptures of devils and dragons took on a lugubrious aspect.
The uneasy light of the flame made them wink. There were wigs
who seemed to be laughing, gargoyles thought to be barking,
salamanders blowing in the fire, tarasks sneezing in the smoke.
And among these monsters so awakened from their stone sleep by this flame,
by this noise, there was one who walked and we saw from time to time pass
on the burning front of the pyre like a bat in front of a candle ".
the tribute that Victor Hugo gave him in 1831 in chapter 1
from book 3 of his novel of the same name.
Sunset photographed from my neighborhood in Palm Desert, California.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=flOvM4Z355A
The doors playing light my fire
Lyrics:
You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire, yeah
The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire, yeah
You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Enraptured Sonnet.
La poésie scénique se pavanant au pouvoir des publics sans forme conquiert des actions des actes clairs l'obscurité des idiots comiques vus triomphent du dénuement,
cogaidhean ìoranas puingean air adhart le connadh a ’cluich lasraichean erotic a’ bualadh pyres tiodhlacaidhean brìgh a ’toirt buaidh air gnìomhan barbarach urramach clasaigeach ath-ghabhail,
religionis irrisio et thesauris tyranni voluntariam tangit ritualized violentiam optimas quas molestias dramatizes predicatorum de prioribus surrexit iudicia backlash,
samozadowolenie dusze potępienie światowa legenda grzechy diabły rządzi moce świeckie sceny pojmani święci opinie złe prowokacje plugawe zaprojektowane oszustwo,
het begrijpen van contexten vermakelijke alarmen die demonen beschuldigen verraderlijke sterfgevallen anonieme brieven verontrustende angsten verontrustende prestaties waarheden vormen,
ローカライズされた不安技術言語現代の法律の人形は決定を変える時代を示しています偉大な全能のイエスは事実アーメンを上昇させました!
Steve.D.Hammond.
Sometime... some alluring beauties might be hidden the shadows. 😁 I sure wish that day wasn't so hazy though!
Have a fantastic day, everyone...
My, my, those eyes like fire
I'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
Come now, bite through these wires
I'm a waking hell and thе gods grow tired
Reset my patiеnt violence along both lines of a pathway higher
Grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire...
Varanasi (Inde) - La crémation est jusqu’ici l’Arlésienne de cette série. On en parle, mais on ne la voit pas. Je trouve qu’un bûcher en gros plan n’est pas photogénique. De plus les hindous interdisent de les photographier, sauf si on est prêt à payer plusieurs centaines d’euros. Ici aussi, tout s’achète et tout se vend et les marchands n'ont pas été expulsé du temple.
Certes, comme tout le monde, j’ai des photos « volées » de crémations. Mais elles n’ont qu’un intérêt documentaire tout au plus. Et ces scènes ont tellement été photographiées du milieu de Gange au téléobjectif que je préfère des photos qui suscitent, plus qu’elles ne montrent ce départ en fumée.
Varanasi (India) - Cremation is so far the Arlesian of this series. We talk about it, but we don't see it. I find a close-up pyre not photogenic. Hindus forbid taking photographs of them unless one is prepared to pay several hundred euros. Here too, everything is bought and sold, and the merchants were not kicked out of the temple.
Of course, like everyone else, I have "stolen" photos of cremations. But they are only of documentary interest at most. And these scenes have been photographed so much from the middle of the Ganges with a telephoto lens that I prefer photos that arouse, rather than show this departure in smoke.
.... on the banks of the River Ganges in Varanasi (Benares) - India. Note the cows to the left of the pyres. Very insensitive of those tourist to be sitting so close - tourists are encouraged to stay in the boats well out in the river. This photo taken on 'zoom'.
Let corruption burn from within, or do your best to suppress it, either way the [Beefwitted] Pyre eyes offer you a way to express to the world that something burns beneath the surface.
This 100% handcrafted eye fatpack comes with a total of 20 colours, each with a variant for both a black and a white sclera. The product includes an applier for Evo and Evo X Lelutka heads, as well as an unpacker containing BOM versions of every single eye colour and sclera variant.
Both the demo and a slightly cheaper version of the product are available at my in-world store.
For any further queries, contact Beefwitted Resident in-world.
Bringing this up in my stream to put it in context as I continue uploading the rest of the story.
Originally uploaded June 2013
Model: Carly P.
This is the second image in a photostory I shot about a month and a half ago. The story is inspired by an essay by Edgar Allan Poe Titles "The Philosophy of Composition" in which he breaks down his process of writing "The Raven." Ever since I first read the essay a couple years ago I've been interested in this quote-
"the death, then, of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world- and equally is it beyond doubt that the lips best suited for such topic are those of a bereaved lover"
I also wanted to tell you all to check out the new issue of Grae Magazine, all about the / Los Angeles Flickr GatheringI attended over New Years. Also I have a feature over on Five Thôt.
Excerpt from the booklet:
Creatures of the Cold
In the drawing on paper, Creatures of the cold, a kind of funeral pyre/totem rises over the wheat and sugarcane fields. In a conversation with me about this piece, Raina said he was looking at stone carvings and rocks in Kashmir, monuments that are standing, or decaying. Observing these structures, he was thinking of scientific research, and how climate change in the Himalayas changes the mountain eco-system. He was also “looking at the history of mythology in fold-stories and the history of ecology in Kashmir, the relationship between mythology and ecology, storytelling, and how folk-stories were used to think about the land in intimate ways…”
The legend of the Old Boatman of Cruggleton is set in the years following the death of David I in 1153, when the Norsemen tried to recover their supremacy in Galloway.
This is a story of an attempt to recapture the castle by supernatural means. Knowledge of the intended attempt had been received by the MacCairills through a retainer, once a prisoner in Norway and familiar with the language. He had discovered the plot during his diplomatic errands between the Chief of the MacCairills and King Haco of Norway.
The dreaded Reafen, an enchanted standard woven out of a lions mane, with a raven on its field and supplied with blood at midnight to preserve its terrible powers, was entrusted to an old Norse Boatman, who arrived at night at the foot of the cliffs below the castle. He began his ascent of the path up to the castle. The success of his mission depended on him gaining entrance within the walls to unfurl the Reafen, when the castle would revert to his nation, and, amid the astonishment, and doubtless the terror of its holders, the prepared ambush would rush in and complete the conquest by massacre.
Forewarned, the MacCairils, strong in Christian faith, were prepared. They watched the Boatman climbing towards the castle. When a challenge was shouted out, the Boatman replied he was the bearer of a message for the Chief of the MacCairills from King Haco. Permitted to enter he was seized, the standard wrenched from him and dragged to the gallows awaiting him.
The prisoner declared his allegiance to Norway and the subjugation of the castle by the presence of the standard within. Then, with an invocation to the Scandinavian deities, he ended with the prophecy that on every anniversary, to the end of time, he would return with the standard to unfurl it over the castle walls. Wrestling a hand free, he took a dagger and plunged it into his own chest before his captors could hang him. The ambush failed and the Norsemen left, never to return.
The terrifying standard remained in the castle until it was decided that it should be burned in the courtyard. A peal of thunder shook the castle and a female form of ‘gigantic proportions’ snatched it from the pyre, and soaring aloft, was lost in the bosom of the clouds. The Boatman is said to have lived up to his promise and continued to his annual visit, the last recorded being in the eighteenth century.
This story is a short extract from a longer article on the history of Cruggleton Castle, which can be found on our website here: darkgalloway.wordpress.com/2022/11/06/cruggleton-castle-t...
For more stories visit our website: darkgalloway.wordpress.com/
Or join our Facebook Group here: www.facebook.com/groups/1710942262584890
Follow us on Twitter: @DarkGalloway
Ziml Pyre Exta Paris Scane Seza Mad Vania 1Spekt Detone Chabeuh Xenz Zest TCF TDM POW... Painted inside a storm tunnel during the maddest heat ever. 45 degrees at one point... Big up the brothers in Montpellier.
Best viewed LARGE: www.flickr.com/photos/bob_carver/4205582745/sizes/o/
Bollenberg (Alsace)
www.lieux-insolites.fr/alsace/bollenberg/bollenberg.htm
©TOUS DROITS RÉSERVÉS
©ALL RIGHT RESERVED
www.flickriver.com/photos/philippe_haumesser/popular-inte...>
There's just too many people now
And too little land
Too much rage and desire
It makes you feel so feeble now
It's so out of hand-
Big bombs and barbed wire...
Can't you see
Our destiny?
We are making this Earth
Our funeral pyre!
Holy Earth
How can we heal you?
We cover you like a blight...
Strange birds of appetite...
If I had a heart I'd cry.
If I had a heart I'd cry.
If I had a heart I'd cry.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMCl9eOBlsY
You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher
Come on, baby, light my fire
Come on, baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on, baby, light my fire
Come on, baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire, yeah
The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
Come on, baby, light my fire
Come on, baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire, yeah
You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher
Come on, baby, light my fire
Come on, baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Pashupatinath Temple in Nepal is a powerhouse of Hindu spiritual energy located on the banks of the holy Bagmati River, where cremation ghats are the city's most important location for open-air cremations. Despite the river's pollution, it is considered extremely sacred and is the Nepali equivalent of Varanasi on the River Ganges. Bodies are wrapped in shrouds and cremated on wooden pyres in a practical and efficient manner. Visitors are encouraged to approach the site with respect and sensitivity. While the cremations are typically carried out in a businesslike manner, I did hear some people crying very loudly during the ceremonies, making for a powerful and emotional experience. While the cremations are a routine part of the religious customs and traditions of the local community, they are also deeply personal and emotional events for the families and loved ones of the deceased – Kathmandu, Nepal
a good start in the new week !!
I was lost till you were found
But I never know how far down
I was falling
Before I reached the bottom
I was cold and you were fire
And I never knew how the pyre
Could be burning
On the edge of the ice field
And now the chilly California wind
Is blowing down our bodies again
And we're sinking deeper and deeper
In the chilly California sand
Oh I know you belong
Inside my aching heart
And can't you see my faded Levis
Bursting apart
And don't you hear me crying:
"Oh Babe, don't go"
And don't you hear me screaming
"How was I to know?"
I'm in the middle of nowhere
Near the end of the line
But there's a border to somewhere waiting
And there's a tankful of time
Oh give me just another moment
To see the light of the day
And take me to another land where
I don't have to stay
And I'm gonna need somebody to make me feel like you do
And I will receive somebody with open arms, open eyes
Open up the sky and let the planet that I love shine through
For crying out loud