View allAll Photos Tagged VisualPoetry
oil on canvas' 2000, sold
Collocata in alto, inaccessibile, la finestra diventa un "sogno verticale", un'apertura verso l'alto che suggerisce una fuga dalla realtà quotidiana e l'accesso a una dimensione fantastica.
L’agave, alta e ostinata, ha atteso anni per questo momento. Ha raccolto sole, vento e silenzi del mare, preparando in segreto il proprio unico slancio verso il cielo. Ora la sua infiorescenza si apre come una storia che non può essere trattenuta: un gesto lento, solenne, che la consuma mentre la compie. Nel controluce del tramonto, sembra quasi raccontare che alcune vite brillano una sola volta — ma quando lo fanno, cambiano il paesaggio per sempre.
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The agave, tall and stubborn, has waited years for this moment. It has stored sun, wind, and the sea’s quiet breath, preparing in secret its single ascent toward the sky. Now its bloom unfolds like a story that refuses to stay untold: a slow, solemn gesture that consumes it as it happens. In the backlit glow of sunset, it seems to whisper that some lives shine only once — yet when they do, they reshape the landscape forever.
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8395
This is not a "pretty photo"! It is an atmospheric poem…a symphony of contrasting values! It speaks of transitions, of ends that are also beginnings, of the heavy beauty of silence, and the profound melancholy that can sometimes feel more complete than joy. It doesn't merely capture a moment; it encapsulates an entire emotional spectrum, painted with the brushstrokes of dusk.
I took it in ultra-wide angle not to just expand the view; but to expand the emotional scale. The image captures the dramatic transition between day and night, where heavy charcoal clouds clash with a bruised orange horizon.
The sky of pale blues and fire, representing the thin line between reality and dreams, the silhouetted trees on the horizon stand like silent guardians of ancient secrets, and the water is a textured, reflective mirror that grounds the viewer in the present while pulling the eye toward the infinite horizon that represents the past.
Rather than a cheerful sunset, this scene is an exercise in moody elegance. It’s a poignant farewell full of weight and memory.. a visual invitation to the hour.. to enjoy the beauty that only exists in the low light.
"Things Ended"
Engulfed by fear and suspicion,
mind agitated, eyes alarmed,
we try desperately to invent ways out,
plan how to avoid
the obvious danger that threatens us so terribly.
Yet we're mistaken, that's not the danger ahead:
the news was wrong
(or we didn't hear it, or didn't get it right).
Another disaster, one we never imagined,
suddenly, violently, descends upon us,
and finding us unprepared -there's no time now-
sweeps us away.
Konstantinos P. Kavafy /1911/
BARBAGIANNI - Dopo il silenzio
Una presenza sospesa, scolpita nella luce morbida.
Nel suo sguardo, la quiete che precede il volo.
Poi – un battito d’ali, leggero come un sussurro –
e il silenzio si fa movimento.
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Barn Owl (Tyto alba) - After the Silence
A suspended presence, carved in gentle light.
In its gaze, the stillness before flight.
Then – a wingbeat, soft as a whisper –
and silence turns into motion.
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9307
Tra le scie del cielo e il respiro del mare, la luce si ferma un istante prima di scomparire.
L’orizzonte trattiene il giorno, come un segreto che non vuole essere detto.
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Between the sky’s fading trails and the sea’s slow breath, the light pauses for a moment before disappearing.
The horizon holds the day, like a secret not yet ready to be spoken
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7838.
From the recreational area at the Eastern end of Holstebro Lake (Vandkraftsøen) and Tvis Watermill (Tvis Mølle), Denmark - January 23, 2022.
They stood there long after the light began to fade.
This image captures a moment of quiet solitude a single figure silhouetted on a wooden bridge, bathed in the last golden glow of the day. The sun slips low, casting long shadows through the slats, painting the water with warmth that doesn’t quite reach the heart.
There’s no movement. No sound. Just the hush of a day ending and the weight of something unsaid. The bridge stretches out, but no one crosses. The light touches everything except the space between.
It’s a portrait of being alone—not in the world, but in the feeling. A place where memory lingers, where silence speaks, and where the sunset doesn’t comfort—it just watches.
My latest photography is now available for purchase at crsimages.pixels.com/, featuring prints, framed art, and more from my curated collections.
"I Went"
I didn't restrain myself. I gave in completely and went,
went to those pleasures that were half real,
half wrought by my own mind,
went into the brilliant night
and drank strong wine,
the way the champions of pleasure drink.
/poem by Konstantinos P. Kavafis '1913/
Shot on a short sunset trip on a rather windy (and quite cold) night at Toftum north of Struer, Denmark - April 09, 2020.
In these dark rooms where I live out empty days,
I wander round and round
trying to find the windows.
It will be a great relief when a window opens.
But the windows aren't there to be found -
or at least I can't find them. And perhaps
it's better if I don't find them.
Perhaps the light will prove another tyranny.
Who knows what new things it will expose?
/poem by Konstantinos P. Kavafis/
Give yourself the time you need in your life, organize your thoughts,
Your wishes and feel them.
© 2022 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 gale
striped all the leaves
from the trees last night
except for one leaf, left,
to sway solo on a naked branch.
With this example
Violence demonstrates,
that yes of course -
it likes its little joke
from time to time.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
art by Alice Alicja Cieliczka
darkroom lith print on Gevaert Orthobrom chamois royal paper executed October 2022 using Moersch Easylith. Photo taken with flipped lens Agfa Clack on ORWO NP 20.
go adrift
[Sabre 620 with flipped lens / Rolla 620 RX4 expired Oct. 1960 / Adonal stand dev. January 2019]
Dal promontorio di San Rocco di Camogli (Liguria, Italia), a 221 m s.l.m., lo sguardo abbraccia il Golfo di Genova mentre il 12 agosto 2026 il Sole si lascia velare dalla Luna. L’eclissi, visibile per circa 56 minuti, ha raggiunto una copertura massima del 93,57 % alle 20:18:48 CET. Le montagne all’orizzonte hanno abbreviato la fase discendente, ma non hanno potuto spegnere la meraviglia di un tramonto cosmico. Il mosaico mostra quattro istanti di luce e ombra: l’inizio alle 19:30:43, la progressione alle 19:46:51 e 20:02:45, fino al culmine dell’oscuramento. Un racconto di tempo e distanza — 170 km di visibilità e 1900 m s.l.m. al punto di massima copertura — che unisce scienza e poesia nel respiro dell’universo.
From the headland of San Rocco di Camogli (Liguria, Italy), at 221 m a.s.l., the gaze spans the Gulf of Genoa as, on August 12 2026, the Sun lets itself be veiled by the Moon. The eclipse, visible for about 56 minutes, reached a maximum coverage of 93.57 % at 20:18:48 CET. The mountains on the horizon shortened the descending phase but could not dim the wonder of a cosmic sunset. The mosaic reveals four moments of light and shadow: the beginning at 19:30:43, the progression at 19:46:51 and 20:02:45, up to the peak of darkness. A story of time and distance — 170 km of visibility and 1900 m a.s.l. at the point of maximum coverage — blending science and poetry in the breath of the universe.
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Nikon Z8 Nikkor 180-600/5.6-6.3 Nikon Teleconverter 2.0X e 1.4X