View allAll Photos Tagged VisualPoetry
I took a deep breath when I felt that at last I had arrived, here, in the place where my journey had once begun. Nothing had changed, yet the colors seemed to me brighter, clearer, more alive. Enchanted by what I saw, I stepped closer, as if something was gently pulling me toward that small spring with its crystal-clear waters.
I sat at the roots of the tree and closed my eyes for a moment. One more deep breath… ‘And I will be ready again for the great journey I had begun,’ I whispered.
And there, between silence and light, a sweet embrace of dreams wrapped around me. The world sighed softly, and I drifted into sleep, like a child who trusts the sky to keep watch.
⁛ written with light and quiet breath
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
美しい太もも fine art : このような白黒作品の場合、コントラストが強く、白黒の差異を極端に強調して、画像に意味内容があるかのように見せる写真作品を、巷で散見する。
私は、どぎつい表現を好まない。常に言うように、撮影画像によってできた作品は、被写体に依存する。つまり、撮影画像は芸術でない。この点で、私は、完全にロラン・バルトに賛成する。写真とは何か。それは被写体に依存する一種の表現形式である。シャッターを押して、機械任せによって、排出された画像が、いったい、芸術の名に値するほどの何かがあるかどうか、私は疑問なのである。
しかし、撮影画像は、独特の価値はある。つまりは被写体の美しさを、簡易に定着させることができるからである。
話を最初に戻すと、であるから、私は、白黒写真においては、できるだけ目立たないおとなしい表現を好む。ただでさえ、白黒作品は、人為が強い。なぜなら、自然界は総天然色であるあからだ。それを白黒で表そうとするところに、すでに相当の、無理が生じているのである。
白黒作品は、あっさりと素直に表現するのが、よろしい。ことさらに、作為をしなくてよい。穏やかな表現で十分である。
Not your surroundings, not the situation and not others,
but how you are and live in this moment determines what your reality looks like.
© 2024 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
Where light meets the soul, shadows fade, and truth awakens. It is a place where warmth embraces the heart, and dreams take flight. Here, silence speaks, and beauty glows from within.
Golden rays dance upon hidden thoughts, illuminating the depths of our being. Every whisper of light carries a promise of hope, healing, and endless possibility. In this sacred space, love flourishes, and the soul finds its way home.
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
Everyone is on their way.
Some towards somewhere.
Some away from something.
Some just walking because the light turned green.
The choreography of the city never pauses.
You’re either part of it –
or watching from the curb.
No words were spoken, none were needed. In the soft, delicate brush of their fingers,
everything their hearts yearned to express was already understood.
"You gete me," her thoughts whispered in the silence.
His touch, steady and warm, was a quiet promise, not of elaborate explanations,
but of a bond so deep that words would only diminish it.
There was no need for grand declarations or confessions of love.
Their souls had already found each other, entwined like the threads of a timeless tapestry.
Together, they had reached the end of the rainbow, a place unseen by others,
where the world faded away, leaving only the truth of what they shared something only they could truly understand.
© 2024 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
美しい脚の形 美脚 fine art,
前ページの色抜きだ。つまりモノクロ写真となったわけだ。
私は、モノクロを極端なコントラストで、何か意味ありげに表現することを好まない。また、ストリート写真と称する、他人の肖像権を無視するよう行為も好むところではない。
被写体の許可のないままに画像を撮って、それを自分の作品と称することは、権利侵害である。
結論は、写真は、自分を撮れ。写真は自宅及び、撮影者が完全な所有権を持つ対象を撮ることが本筋だと思う。
他人や他人の所有物を撮って、何が嬉しいのだろう。自分自身を撮るが、撮影の本来の姿である。
と、いささか、興奮して話す。
A cute little photographer took center stage in the middle of the forest. There it was a squirrel,
and not just any squirrel, mind you. You know who I’m talking about, right? The little nut thief!
What are you up to this time, you sneaky rascal?
Proudly perched on a wooden post beside a hanging bridge, a camera sat on a tripod,
ready to capture the beauty of nature... or maybe, just maybe, it was gathering some incriminating evidence?
Our furry friend acted like a seasoned photographer, trying not to draw too much attention to itself.
With tiny paws gripping the camera and a serious look in its eyes,
the squirrel bent down and squinted through the viewfinder, determined to snap the perfect shot.
“Hmm... maybe a little to the left?” you could almost hear it thinking.
Click! The first piece of evidence was captured. You see over there?,
old bear Betsy had just scared off a few hunters and was now taking a break by the campfire,
enjoying a piece of honey cake. In her gruff voice, she hollered to the deer,
"Hey, boys, all clear! You can keep grazing; I’m in charge now."
Don't believe my story? Well, hop on over and see for yourself how relieved the deer are as they prance around.
Yep, that’s exactly how it happened. I’ve got it all captured,
proof and all! Who else would take pictures of such nonsense and spin a tale like this?
Only me the inconspicuous photographer.
© 2024 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
In this surreal landscape of the psyche, we condemn ourselves to solitary confinement.
We lock our dreams and desires behind bars and follow the dictates of our own insecurities.
The irony?
We hold the key to our freedom, yet we tell ourselves the lock is impenetrable.
© 2024 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
En el punto más alto de la orbita
No se resiste la gravedad
Fuerza irresistible.
Marejadas
y mi mar
se desborda.
In some depth where no voice yet fits,
what we were to become had already begun.
A memory of something not yet happened,
and yet, within my soul,
it settled like an ancient truth.
You did not know how much you resembled me.
Nor I, who awaited you in every light
that cooled my skin with unseen colors.
And still, when you came,
I did not recognize you at once
only my silence sighed
in a way that betrayed me.
You were what time forgets,
yet the soul searches for when unseen.
You were a warm pulse within my light.
And I held you tightly in my hands,
with every fear, with all my foolish beginnings,
until I became, too,
what only you could gaze upon without fear.
Since then, every unexplainable trembling
reminds me that you existed
in that place where everything happens
before it even begins.
⁛ a soft pulse of the heart
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
Entre troncos e luz, o olhar se eleva em busca do que é essencial.
A árvore, antiga e silenciosa, guarda o tempo em sua pele e oferece ao céu os frutos da resistência.
“Raiz do Céu” é sobre crescer para cima, mas também sobre permanecer firme nas profundezas da terra.
Between trunk and light, the gaze rises in search of what truly matters.
The ancient tree, silent and steadfast, carries time in its skin and offers resilience to the sky.
“Root of the Sky” is about reaching upward — yet remaining deeply grounded.
© Breno Machado Fotografia
He always felt a little different.
He believed his sensitivity made him almost invisible, even though he was, well... an elephant. He liked to think he had the soul of a butterfly and the breath of a snail.
One day, with all his grace, he opened
a small china shop, sure it was exactly his thing. With careful steps and velvety smooth movements, he dusted teapots, sorted cups, and offered jam with a smile.
People came not just for the porcelain,
but to experience the magic of a creature
that somehow belonged
in a world where he absolutely did not belong.
All was going well...
until the raspberry rolled off the counter.
And of course, he followed it.
Let's just say it was a very loud end
to a very gentle dream. And yet no one ever forgot the elephant who thought he was light enough to dance with porcelain.
Dare to dream, and live your dream.
⁛ Written with a suitcase full of dreams
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
Sir Muffington III stared at the plate in front of him as if it had personally insulted generations of his ancestors. Broccoli. Carrots. Raw. Cold. Offensive.
"Look into my eyes, Dave," he said, without turning his head. "Just look. One more second of this green disgrace, and I’ll rip out my own fur. I’d rather be bald than eat broccoli."
Dave, lean and smug, lounged behind him, clearly amused. “You’re being dramatic,” he said with a purr. “It’s just vegetables.”
Sir Muffington’s tail twitched. “I hate broccoli. I’ve always hated broccoli. My grandfather used to say, If you ever eat broccoli, your teeth will turn to dust.’ He was a wise cat, Dave. A philosopher.”
Dave yawned. “So what now? Hunger strike?”
“No,” Sir Muffington said with slow, deliberate dignity. “I’m packing my things. I’m moving out.” Dave blinked. “Wait, what?”
“The neighbor feeds me,” Muffington continued, as if revealing a secret alliance. “Three times a day. Real food. Tuna. Chicken. Joy. I’ll hide in her garden, vanish like a legend, and reappear in a few days… thinner, maybe wounded but noble.”
“You’re insane,” Dave muttered, now genuinely worried.
“I hope I’ll be missed,” Sir Muffington whispered.
And with one final glance at the vegetable plate, he turned, his fur full of pride and silent judgment.
Because those who serve broccoli…
shall dine in loneliness. 🐾
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
L'installation s'appelle "Nuage", elle est de Stéphane Ricordel, et c'est un des moments les plus marquants de la Nuit Blanche 2015 à Paris.
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So I finished my class at Summer Arts this past week. It was such a great experience! I was able to talk with a couple photographers that I admire and meet many artists that I connected with. We constantly had something to do and were able to see performances from other classes.
For our final project, we had to create a photograph or a series of photographs that explain a memory, dream, or day dream. Trying to figure something out and complete it in just a few days was pretty hard, especially when we don't have props. Another problem is that I kept on thinking of memories from when I was a child, and I did not have a child that I could take photographs of. I took many pictures, but after I took this one and I saw it on the screen, I knew that this is the only one out of the group of photos I took that explained my memory to me. I understand that the photograph doesn't clearly explain the memory to you, which is fine. I will tell you my memory. When I was young, I remember always wanting to be a witch and have magical powers. I would make "potions" out of dirt, leaves, and flowers. I would pretend that I could make things float. I don't remember the faces of the kids that I would play with, but I remembered my daydreams. Faceless, in my own mind and dreamland, and in the dirt.
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Am I a prisoner of my desire to follow the light? Is my reality behind bars?
3 pics panorama taken at The Royal Exchange, London
Two souls, drawn in light.
Beneath a rooftop shaped by the present,
they shelter quiet promises,
and their wings brush gently against tomorrow.
When love no longer needs words,
it becomes a silence overflowing with life.
A sun sets… only to rise again
within the reflection of their gaze.
And there, in the hush between heartbeats,
something eternal is born soft as breath,
bright as hope, true as love.
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi – All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Every poem, every story, and every thought I share is a part of my soul. To take them without permission is to take a piece of me
a piece that will always remind you these words are mine and can never be yours.
Even if you alter them, it is still my soul that lingers, whispering to you: You are incapable of creating your own, and that is why you copy what belongs to others.
📷: Apple iPhone 16 Pro
💻: Lightroom
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In quiet spaces where feelings blossom, a sense gently awakens. It first listens with an open heart to shadows, errors, and justice.
Gentle hands warmly grasp what speaks to the stranger and asks for friendship. It carefully considers which words hurt before they do, and seeks understanding.
Sensitivity has a profound effect. It honors every spark of truth and strengthens every heart. Understanding grows where listening remains, and kindness finds its beginning.
⁛ Kindness grows where judgment pauses.
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
A Dialogue in Shadows between human resilience and volcanic permanence.
“The people in my photographs are not victims. They are survivors.” — Sebastião Salgado
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একবার তুমি ভালোবাসতে চেষ্টা কর –
দেখবে, নদীর ভিতরে, মাছের বুক থেকে পাথর ঝরে পড়ছে
পাথর পাথর পাথর আর নদী-সমুদ্রের জল
নীল পাথর লাল হচ্ছে, লাল পাথর নীল
একবার তুমি ভালোবাসতে চেষ্টা কর |
------------
বুকের ভেতরে কিছু পাথর থাকা ভাল
চিঠি-পত্রের বাক্স বলতে তো কিছু নেই - পাথরের ফাঁক-ফোকরে রেখে এলেই কাজ হাসিল -
অনেক সময় তো ঘর গড়তেও মন চায় |
------------
একবার তুমি -শক্তি চট্টোপাধ্যায়
For once, try to love -
You will see rocks inside the river
Rolling down from the fishes' heart.
Rocks, rocks, rocks
And water of river and sea
Blue rocks turning red, red rocks blue
Only - only once - try to love
------------
Better to keep few rocks in the heart
Never had a letterbox
The gaps of the rocks doubled as such
Some times, mind wants to build a home
------------
Translated by Pinaki Poddar
Poems of a Rebel - Translation of selected poems of Shakti Chattopadhyay, a prominent Bengali poet.
Read the full poem, here (pages 29-30): www.scribd.com/doc/65638932/Poems-of-a-Rebel
In a forgotten study, where dust and sunlight meet in a quiet dance, rests the memory of a man who never stood still.
His heart beat to the rhythm of the tides, and his thoughts carried sails.
Every instrument on his desk, a chapter, every scratch on the brass a decision. He didn’t just travel across seas, he traveled through spaces, through time, between worlds and maybe even a little farther.
Between knowledge and wonder, between calculation and dream.
The compass, once held in storm and starlit night, no longer points north it points to where longing lives.
And the ship in the painting? Maybe it still sails, who really knows for sure.
Maybe no longer through towering waves, and yet, still it sails through the stories, of those who gaze upon it.
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
Everything you see around you
reflects what you feel inside.
Your paradise or your hell
are not places they are choices.
⁛ Climate shifts first in the heart.
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
Film Photograph-Fuji.
I just love the colors from film, I didn't edit this at all. The colors are so dreamy!! I can't wait to develop my next roll of film also.
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