Poems, Poems, Poems
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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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See it differently
filtered through a vision.
Bent, blurred, and brightened
An altered nature
for our minds to wander
and our hearts to feel.
- L. Magic
Photo Take @PhotoStudio Purple Cows
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 *
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, Morning Poem
taken at stunning :
Visit this location at Witch`s Rock Costa Rica - Pura Vida! in Second Life
Poema ben noto in Emilia, dove quelli Made in Bo rubano un secchio per dispetto in territorio Made in Mo.
Intervengono Marte, Minerva, Apollo, Venere e Bacco...
Si conclude con Il Re Enzo tenuto prigioniero dai Bo, e la secchia dai Mo.
1614...e ancora litighiamo..
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
there’s a vacancy, next to me
a place bare for entry
carefully, kept empty
a warmth void presently
come to me, poetry
the words lost in sanity
expressed delicately
some sort of potency
built, a ready construct
a house to share the abstract
some sort of comfort, filled absence
the shape takes form in fractures
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.
Maybe I wasn't listening,
Or maybe you weren't saying anything important.
Either way.
I don't hear you.
One of my artworks from the Exhibition FRAGMENTS showed at our new Gallery THE EDGE.
The poem by Eli Medier makes it talk, ty Eli :)
"No more dreams
lead now I am
anchored to the ground
by gray children
of gray ideologies
of power and death
I live in a separate reality
spend my days
to count the days
I aspire to heaven
and sink into the abyss
Nothing more distinguishable
trapped now
in this semblance
deceptive of life
I float in hyperbolic spaces
negative geometries
the existence curve
on the infinite limit circle
I find a crack
and disperse in myriads
of subtle vibrations
Diaphanous strings
envelop me
in narrow universes
The heart dries up
with rigorous metrics
We are peripheral numbers
sobs of ancient gods
indifferent anthropophages
Inhuman tangential presences
mark the solitude
of incomprehensible absences
Forced into this garden
multitude of fools
we are in labels
of white coats
Imperfect mechanisms
aspirants to human
Our disease
is in a divine folder
an irrevocable judgment"
© Eli Medier
Thanks to our friends Inara and Oema for their kind attention :)
modemworld.me/2020/05/25/the-edge-a-new-home-in-second-life/
"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
Today at the end of the afternoon I became a cricket bug and this way I saw the sunset from ground! ;)
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
Algún día
Algún día te escribiré un poema que no
mencione el aire ni la noche;
un poema que omita los nombres de las flores,
que no tenga jazmines o magnolias.
Algún día te escribiré un poema sin pájaros,
sin fuentes, un poema que eluda el mar
y que no mire a las estrellas.
Algún día te escribiré un poema que se limite
a pasar los dedos por tu piel
y que convierta en palabras tu mirada.
Sin comparaciones, sin metáforas;
algún día escribiré un poema que huela a ti,
un poema con el ritmo de tus pulsaciones,
con la intensidad estrujada de tu abrazo.
Algún día te escribiré un poema, el canto de mi dicha.
DARÍO JARAMILLO A. ( Colombia 1947 )
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!
"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.
This is a river in Skjåk, Norway. At Billingen pensjonat you can eat good food and enjoy this view. There's also a path where you can read poems mounted to poles along the path. Fantastic stuff :)
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
…"Vivez si m'en croyez, n'attendez à demain,
Cueillez dès aujourd'hui les roses de la vie."
Sonnets pour Hélène (Pierre de Ronsard, 1524-1585)
..."Live now, believe me, wait not till tomorrow; Gather the roses of life today."
Sonnets to Helen (Pierre de Ronsard, French poet)
In the field of excited sighs
Inside natures open thighs
Grows a beauty, oh so sweet
That my fingers they do meet
That my fingers they caress
Natures defences, i undress
Allowing my sun to now cover
My sweet, wild growing lover
That fills the field with excited sighs
That opens wide, it's waiting thighs
Waiting for my love, to descend
cover it with sunshine, that will never end
“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
M'enfilo pels pensaments
de les hores callades.
Pas a pas,
sobre la corda del silenci,
escric mots que perfilen
nous horitzons.
Enrere queden les creences
d'un temps que ja m'és llunyà.
Que n'és de savi el temps!
O som nosaltres que hem après
a desaprendre?
a desfer-nos de l'innecessari,
per tornar a l'essència,
per saber el que veritablement
ens cal...
ISABEL RIBERA I CARNÉ. M'enfilo
On the Nature of Daylight | Max Richter
youtu.be/rVN1B-tUpgs?si=ahixRyG9NaNI-ijc
I applaud thee,
pretenders in shadows lurking creating your persona seconda at will,
effortless without commandeering believable
by most but still not true to heart,
the beating heart in you is not
but I applaud thee for keeping it up
@ behind-the-vail-of-sanity