Poems, Poems, Poems
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this is just one of a bazillion beautiful scenes to behold at The Flower of Scotland. Read about it here on The SLuggle.
the title of the picture I thought should come from Scotland's Robert Burns, and it's from a lovely love poem called Composed in August which you can find here.
Amsterdam - Vondelpark - Eerste Constantijn Huygensstraat
Copyright - All images are copyright © protected. All Rights Reserved. Copying, altering, displaying or redistribution of any of these images without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited.
Dawn & poem. Tuscany.CF011538
Ogni giorno è diverso dall’altro, ogni alba porta con sè il suo speciale miracolo, il suo istante magico, in cui si distruggono gli universi passati e nascono nuove stelle. I Navajo,infatti, insegnano ai loro bambini che ogni mattina il sole che sorge e’ un sole nuovo. Nasce ogni giorno, vive solo per quel giorno, muore alla sera e non ritornera’ piu’. Dicono ai loro piccoli: Il sole ha solo questo giorno, un giorno. Vivi bene la tua vita in modo che il sole non abbia sprecato il suo tempo prezioso.
Hello everyone,
Thank you so much for your visit and support ..
All Right Reserved. Pictures can not be used without explicit permission by the creator .
Fabrizio Massetti.
Papilio thoas — Porte-queue thoas
Événement : Papillons en Fête au Cente Jardin Hamel
Ville de Québec (Québec) Canada
Papillons en liberté provenant des 4 coins du monde
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© Guylaine Bégin. L'utilisation sans ma permission est illégale.
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Papilio thoas — Thoas Swallowtail
Event : Papillons en Fête au Cente Jardin Hamel
Quebec City (Quebec) Canada
Butterflies from the 4 corners the world
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© Guylaine Bégin. Use without permission is illegal.
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rose from the depths
mountains, nebulae, oceans
in the infinity nest
they became a silvery and golden echo from afar
Music (2) youtu.be/Jv8WzoF7OI4
✨ My painting smells like drops of music, of happiness "impalpable but true" like me ✨💕
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✨ Mi pintura huele como gotas de musica , de la felicidad "impalpable pero verdadera" como yo ✨💕
✨ " Mi felicidad son las Colores que Pinto en mi Vida " ✨💕
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Mi Felicidad es dar Amor, alegria, appoyo a las personas.
Son las palabras que escribo en mis reflexiones o textos, poemas , fotos que hablan
Son las musicas que escucho y canto
Son los perfumes que me rodean lleno des recuerdos, alegrias, penas (tambien es la vida )
Es andar de bicicleta, nadar, jugar tenis, cocinar etc etc...
"Es correr por la vida y la Pasion ... " abrirse es vivir, cerrarse es morir un poco.
" Mi felicidad es Compartir "
Es compartir risas por todo , por nada y a veces por tonterias, tener conversaciones con la gente del dia hasta la noche y seguir de nuevo ! . Un molino que no parra como agua fluyente cargado de iones + , lejos os iones - 😄😄😄
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✨ Intercambio, la verdadera communicacion es importante para mi💕. es mi Felicidad ! ✨
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✨ Silencio y Soledad! no me dejan, vivir solo!!! (Sutil) 😂😂😂, Mi Silencio lo doy a mi Alma, a Dios, a mis Seres de Luz, a mis Rezos. Es el silencio hablando de bondad, humildad y amor. ✨
💯 Sabes, que a veces puedes vivir, en casa con mucha gente, o tener o vivir una relación de pareja y sentirte solo!, sin tener una persona que te entienda. ! -ahí , faltando algo 👀 faltando El verdadero Amor! .
💯Puedes conocer una persona que en poco tiempo te da todo lo que necessitas mientras estas rodeados de gente hace mucho tiempo y no te hace sentir como esta esta persona que te hace vibrar ! en tu Adentro ! ! ! 👀 💕Es Amor!
💯 y tambien tener una persona en Second Life que te da lo que necesitas en tu corazon, tu Alma que nadie te dio , como nadie te hace sentir super bien en tu corazon, Alma en tu Realidad ! 👀 💕Es Amor!.
Es escuchar, opinar, dar amor, tener empatia, comprender a los demas, tener la mano tendida, siempre hay Esperanza.
💕 Son cosas simples . . . mi felicidad 💕
que ni el dinero puede comprar,
mi riqueza, felicidad no son los bienes materiales, dinero , es Todo aqui que hablo .. y "amour toujours" 💕💕💕💕💕
Son cosas simples que me da valor, me llena el Interior,
una vida Sana Pura, me hace crecer, vibrar y me hace feliz
Ah y la cosa mas importante de todas, que sin ella no puedes vivir que olvide decir, la salud es mi felicidad. 💕
Lea Aboma 15/07/2022
Muchas Gracias y bendiciones a todos 💕^
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Cover group : www.flickr.com/groups/14799371@N20/
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* thank you all down for tags/awards *
I do not want to stand
under quiet skies.
I want them filled with bird song,
the intertwining symphony
of life breathing life
singing life
I do not want silent trees
or Silent Springs
without the buzzing
of hummingbirds
or the whisper-flight of wrens.
The grass has held worm
for robins, warm-breasted
and numerous —as far
into my memory as I can search.
Where are the robins now?
I haven’t seen one in so long.
The Aves are in decline.
I do not want to live
in a world without birds.
Without the intricacies of color
the dapper dancing for mates
the delicate strength of wings
teaching us to soar above things,
to be light as the wind
and quick on our feet.
How can I soar on wings like eagles, Lord
if there are none to inspire
my soul to lift?
Who will announce the gift of sun
after rain? Who will skip on delicate
feet along the shoreline, or lift
their notes on wind and wing?
Who will bring morning?
Coming too soon —
artist renderings,
a cross-stitched Avocet
on white linen, framed,
picture books and stories
telling of days when the skies
were ablaze with a flurry
of swift flying creatures
— this is what we give
to the generations?
Tales of them?
Empty skies
and our
remorseful eyes?
I cannot live
in a world without birds.
— forgive us our trespasses
Poem written by Christina Ward
" I was born on the holy ground,
Running wild and free,
Across wide meadows by the stream,
Between the mountains and the sea,
I grew up there in boyhood days,
Filled with sights and sounds,
My roots run deep here in the clay,
Upon this hallowed ground,
Our children came in the early years,
They ran wild but not so free,
For the meadows gone and the stream lies still,
Between the mountains and the sea,
Now I am old and not so wise.
As I am supposed to be,
And the nights draw in and the wind blows cold,
Between the mountains and the sea,
I was born on this holy ground.
And once ran wild and free,
Across wild meadows by the stream,
Between the mountains and the sea "
© Pat Hogan
My Photos on FLICKRIVER;
flickriver.com/photos/137473925@N08/
Keep well and positive everbody!!!
Best of everything!
Pat
Poem
From the short and intense evening,
your light seeps into my face,
the smell of your hair is strong
like the smell of the sea
In the minds of mad men
Echoes the darkness of wars,
And in that dark grows the
Media images of death and destruction.
And from the shade of our limitations,
we will scream into the void, peace and freedom, then close our eyes and pray, his,
is not the hand that stops the ticking clock.
When the bidding is done, the madness will stop, but only for a while, and we will try and release this Dove with a broken wing, and call it peace.
Words by, Broken Beacon.
Time, just a bodily experience;
With the change of times...
Events unwarranted , undesirable
Mere glimpses as it appears,
Of ever-changing substance...
The viewer and the view
Change like a flicker
Every perception an illusion
Every perceiver the same
Certain is the state
Before birth and after death
Uncertain is the state
In between birth and death
Look at those changes
Like an entertainment
Scenes changing in a play
Queer, and a source of enjoyment
Open the inner eyes
Awaken the Soul
You are neither body nor a living being
Your power knows no bounds.
- Anuj Nair
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© 2011 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
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© 2011 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- isg 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.
"Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky."
- Kahlil Gibran
Trees shaped by the sea wind.
A wild forest, near the sea at Oostkapelle The Netherlands
pp: done with Snapseed and Topaz filters
~ Oops ~ Poem by me ~ 03.18.16
Why is it we call what we do "mistakes"
And to grow from them is a must.
Yet others we call liars, cheats and fakes
Who have surely broken our trust.
For all of you who "allegedly" did me wrong:
I am sorry I doubted you (it shouldn't have taken this long).
++++++++++++
Snapshot_080 Stepping into a Spielberg Movie
Brush-Textured: Luminance Greyed In (like film losing color) on backdrop and skin, plus added contrast to fabrics and metals
"In the Moment" - Random People Series
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The park's has a collection of over 1,000 statues and 150 giant tableaux centered around Chinese folklore, legends, history, and Confucian ideology.
On the pillars is a poem couplet written by Yu Da Fu, aptly describing Haw Par Villa then.
In the quietness of the hills amidst the rolling white clouds
There stand a bright glorious house like blossoming flower petals
You can see the vast and clear blue ocean
And grazes into the and ripples of the sea waves in the far horizon
Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches–
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it
the thorn
that is heavier than lead–
if it’s all you can do
to keep on trudging–
there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted–
each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,
whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.
~ Mary Oliver.
My little black panther 8
Happy Caturday 11.1.2020 "Poem"
Nik Silver efex pro 2
A poem from Mr. Goethe:
Zum Fressen geboren, zum Kraulen bestellt
in Schlummer verloren gefällt mir die Welt.
Ich schnurr' auf dem Schoße, ich ruhe im Bett
in lieblicher Pose, ob schlank oder fett.
So gelte ich allen als göttliches Tier, sie stammeln
und lallen und huldigen mir, liebkosen mir
glücklich den Bauch, Öhrchen und Tatz
ich wählte es wieder, das Leben der Katz.
translated by deepl.com:
Born to eat, ordered to crawl
lost in slumber I like the world.
I purr on your lap, I rest in bed
in a lovely pose, whether slim or fat.
So I am considered to all as a divine animal, they stammer
and slur and worship me, caress me
happy belly, ears and paw
I chose it again, the life of a cat.
Happy Caturday! :-)
This first edition of the poems of Nathan Lanesford Foster was printed and bound in 1841 in the print shop in Philadelphia where my great-great-great grandfather worked at the time.
For those of you who know Philly: the print shop was located in what is now the 'Old City' section of Philadelphia, near the Betsy Ross House and Independence Hall.
More modern editions of this volume are available at select booksellers:
www.abebooks.com/book-search/author/nathan-lanesford-foster/
In real life, the horizontal dimension of the photo is about 2.5" (6.3cm)
HMM!
Ah vastness of pines, murmur of waves breaking,
slow play of lights, solitary bell,
twilight falling in your eyes, baby doll,
snail of the earth, in you the earth sings!
In you the rivers sing, and my soul in them flees
as you desire it, and you send it where you will.
Mark for me my road on your brows of hope
and I in my delirium will release the flock of arrows.
Around me I see your waist of fog
and your silence accosts my troubled hours,
and you are with your transparent arms of stones
where my kisses anchor and my damp desire nests.
Ah your mysterious voice that love colors and tolls
in the resonant and dying evening!
Thus in deep hours over the fields I have seen
the ears of wheat tolling in the mouth of the wind.
Pablo Neruda
Lemon Trees Mediterranean, Auto 1 (122, 83, 22) - Moderado
"Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds -
and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of -
wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.
Hovering there I've chased the shouting wind along
and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.
"Up, up the long delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
and, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand and touched the face of God."
John Gillespie Magee Jr.
Che
strano
sentire
Ia vita
come
una poesia
(🌺 Son felice :
sono viva)
Genova, 1976
How strange / to feel / the life/ as a poem
"The poem . . . is a little myth of man's capacity of making life meaningful. And in the end, the poem is not a thing we see it is, rather, a light by which we may see and what we see is life."
Robert Penn Warren
It is a morning full of storms
in the heart of summer.
The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs bidding farewell,
the wind shakes them with its wandering hands.
Innumberable heart of the wind
beating upon our loving silence.
Buzzing amongst the trees, orquestral and divine,
like a language full of wars and songs.
A wind that swiftly steals away the fallen leaves
and deflects the beating arrows of the birds.
A wind that strikes her down in a foamless wave
and weightless substance, and fires bowing down.
It breaks and submerges its volume of kisses
fought at the gate of the summer wind.
Color The World Orange flic.kr/gm/3g65nd, Life Island (88, 133, 22) - Moderado
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie!
This is the first line from a poem written in 1785 by the Scottish poet Robbie Burns. Although the title of the poem is To a Mouse (apparently written in sorrow having accidentally destroyed the home of a mouse while ploughing in his field), much of the poem could be applied to a wee snail!
For Macro Mondays theme 'Book'. This wee book is a collection of poems by Robbie Burns, dating from 1913. You might wonder why I would put a snail on such an antique book, but the cover was easily wiped off and care was taken to not allow the snail to come into contact with the thin, delicate pages.
No snails were ploughed or otherwise harmed in the making of this photograph.
I THINK THAT I SHALL NEVER SEE------
A POEM AS LOVELY AS A PANORAMA TREE
(WITH APOLOGY TO AUTHOR JOYCE KILMER)
Loch Katrine is a freshwater loch and scenic attraction in the Trossachs area of the Scottish Highlands.
It is the fictional setting of Sir Walter Scott's poem The Lady of the Lake and of the subsequent opera by Gioachino Rossini, La donna del lago.
TRUTH
We all have our own truth
Credos that we abide by
It stops us falling into murky waters
Getting lost by the wayside
It can be difficult staying on the path
I wish I had Dante and Virgil at my side
Instead I rely on your light to guide me
Love like a burning flame inside
I knew it would not be easy
I have my own steep hills to climb
But I would do it all again if you asked me
At least I can say I have tried
This flame may die down into embers
Ready to ignite at your word
Such love can never be extinguished
Like a heart that never really dies
Can I still find my way through the forest
Navigate my way past the lies
See the truth of you in front of me
Answering all the tears that I have cried
I have been taking a little break from Flickr after my last upload of images. So consequently I am a bit behind with my usual thank you’s. So I thought I would place this up here in the meantime for you to thank you all for your support. Those of you who have got to know me and my work know how much these pieces mean to me, and the journey that led me to create them and share them here. Each poem is deeply felt and a reality to me, and can be emotionally challenging to write. I am learning that not only do I need time to create them, I also need time to rest in between them. Thank you again for all your kind words, faves and views. I would have found it difficult to keep going without you.
This image is the view towards the Altar beneath the East Window of Ripe Church, Sussex, UK, which has medieval fragments of the original stained glass set within the clear gothic window.
To see more of my images and poetry have a look at my website:
my dreams are filled with
abandoned places and
closed doors
and
realms that can't be explained in the real world.
and often,
I am curled up into a ball while Lewis screams in the background,
and still,
the echo of silence
reverberates off the walls
until I find an open door-
and ignore it.
“Gardens are poems
Where you stroll with your hands in your pockets.
(Les jardins sont des poemes
Ou l'on se promene les mains dans les poches.)”
― Pierre Albert-Birot
Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets
towards your oceanic eyes.
There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames,
its arms turning like a drowning man's.
I send out red signals across your absent eyes
that move like the sea near a lighthouse.
You keep only darkness, my distant female,
from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.
Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad nets
to that sea that beats on your marine eyes.
The birds of night peck at the first stars
that flash like my soul when I love you.
The night gallops on its shadowy mare
shedding blue tassels over the land.
Pablo Neruda
Pemberley www.flickr.com/groups/pemberleysl/, Pemberley (105, 196, 23) - Moderado