View allAll Photos Tagged prose
.Casa Monica has been totally rebuilt and is a wonderful place to stay..if you can swing it...some of the best food in town also..There are wonderfuls shops to the street side on the left..with an art gallery in the building along with a nice coffee shop...It is right on the town square (to the left out of sight), right in front of the Flagler Museum (to the right.) Shops are within walking distance along with the nearby historical district...Built in the Spanish Renaissance style...Saint Augustine is the oldest city in the United States.
When Florida was being populated, this used to be the last stop of the railroads and this hotel along with another (across the street, which was bought and is now Flagler College) were very exotic places for the rich and famous of the day for wintering. Flagler eventually extended the railroad down through Florida to the Miami area.
I have taken some shots of these beautiful buildings at night without using HDR, and they are good, but WITH HDR it is a lot easier to control the lights and contrast..and therefore get a better picture. I can do some of the same things in Shadows/Highlights, but it is nice to have another tool (which I know can only be as good as the toolee!) As long as I take sharp pictures and don't move between shots, the HDRs are staying sharp..which was my main concern along with not creating halos, etc. You pretty much still have to go through your PPing routine with them though, after they have been blended.
A Generation on Eve of Election
(Politics Never Were the Answer) (James Watkins)
This generation is stuck on the bulwark,
Frozen in headlights gathering stones-
Indiscriminate sons of the morning,
Atrophied assets with merits unknown.
Set in the light of internal combustion,
Self deprivation, contiguous bones-
Crushed in the conflict
Of rising occasion,
Lost in the moment
The monument grows.
Dancing with moonlight,
Moonbeams in starlight,
Ridiculed remnants that rattle and roll-
Quixotically quoted in
Careless convention,
National parlance
Of future payrolls.
Pay for the privilege,
Pose for the prattle,
Pause for refreshment,
That causes the cure.
Simple deliverance in
Smokescreen obedience,
Rationale railways
That run on the ruins.
Come to the purpose in patriot persuasion,
Stand in the gap with righteous reward,
Fly in the face of cupcake convention,
Pulses of power that pull
At the thorns.
Hold fast in fear; don’t fall at the junction,
Waste away weather maps
Conjugal forms-
Failing at formats with frogs in the foyer,
Padded with passive, political porn.
Packed into parlors with pigs of persuasion,
Multiplied monsters fixed to the floor-
Pass on to poundings of crux congregations,
Critical mass for the petrified poor.
Crept in concealment configured in catacombs,
Built on the fragments of families forlorn-
Terrified teamsters with tales of their talisman,
Tickled and tortured, then swamped by the storm.
Fancy faced forecasts with fabricate filters,
Lies at the bottom where captives are shorn-
Files of the caveat castaway cheviots,
Horns of the altar now cut to the stone.
Sanctified delegates step to floor-
Out on the borders, go right for the snore.
Sniping at mystical magical merchandise,
Mopping up munchkins with heroes galore.
Gift of gab purposeful prophets in paradise,
Parabolic poetry prose-
Deft and defiant in damaged delusion,
Filled up with ideas but stuck in the door.
Pamplified pollsters perched on the pedestal,
Pale prognosticates barren and bored-
Doubters and doers and leaders and lovers,
Catch me the top of the hour has flown.
Dudley dead do-rights don’t come down a crashin’
Cackling crackers conducive to scorn,
Capped out and crapped out
In Wall Street enduros,
Boiled down to futures and factual whores.
Just enough knowledge to keep them from happiness,
Just enough money to keep them enthroned,
Just enough polish to keep each one sparkling,
Just enough selfishness keeps them alone.
James Watkins 09-02-08
Get inspired to fill in the pages of your own story in our mystical forest!
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An ideal, appreciated gift for that hard to buy for, older, special person in your life.
A further collection of blended photographs and prose.
A photographer for over 40 years, Philip has travelled extensively whilst living and working in the U.K. New Zealand, P.N.G. and currently France. He has had many prints published in magazines and adverts, most notably for Pepsi Cola, as well as being exhibited. In 2019 Philip published a collection of prose inspired by his photos, titled Phrotose. A sequel, Phrotose Plus, was published in 2021.
Available in hardback and softcover.
2:45:45
I wonder what happened to people that day
Was it spring, autumn or winter? Maybe even summer?Did someone receive a message from a friend to say "hi."
It's possible someone came in to cry after a dreadful thing.
I could have heard the voice of someone complaining while on hold.
I imagine some were busy rushing around to finish the day's work.
Others might have sat in this room and talked about nothing at all.
One person had to have come in to warm up some water for tea...or coffee.
Time might have stopped at 2:45:45 that fateful day.
Adventures can be dangerous even for those used to the thrills
There are terrifying views from trails walked
Or a scramble across to a peak seemingly beyond one’s years
I’d say though that what’s really terrifying is sitting and doing nothing
The routines of a life can temper too much a person’s soul.
Another work of short poetry or prose to describe and complement the image captured one early morning while walking the Red Beds Trail in Devils Tower National Monument. To compose this image I went back and forth in my mind how high to have Devils Tower in the image. The skies were amazing with the clouds, but the landscape with the trees and prairie grasses was also a sight to take in, especially as the sunlight moved across adding different hues to the greens and yellows as well as shadows cast. Metering the image was then a matter of finding a good enough one to not blow anyu highlights while later pulling the shadows out in post-production with Capture NX2.
Cartref plentyndod un o brif ryddieithwyr Cymraeg yr ugeinfed ganrif. Yma yn 2014, wedi ei adfer i ddangos sut yr oedd yn ystod ei phlentyndod.
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Ti bugaleaj unan eus pennañ skrivagnerien komz-plaen ar c'hembraeg en ugentvet kantved. Adsavet amañ e 2004, met a-benn diskouez penaos e oa pa oa-hi bugel.
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Hogeigarren mendearen, galeseraz, hitz lauz idazten zuen idazle nagusietako baten hautzaroko etxea. Hemen 2014an, zaharberritua.
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The childhood home of one of the major prose writers of Welsh in the 20th century: Kate Roberts.Here in 2014, restored to how it looked in her childhood.
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2004: www.flickr.com/photos/bara-koukoug/4023576380/in/dateposted/
Take One Step, Seas Life (Of Love(s Of) Life) - IMRAN™
Life is so full of ironies and visual wordplays. Take this photo of my current situation, for example. I'm standing in the cold waters of Tampa Bay on a warming afternoon, outside my blessed home.
I looked down and then up. Things were looking up and I was down with it. Engulfed by natural moistness from the Gulf, these are the thoughts that washed over me... intellectual and emotional waves of pleasure coming in and on a literal wet dreamscape... as I clicked the iPhone button to capture it all in one frame.
Everyone tells us to stay close to home, not venture too far from shore, to resist the call of the sea, to not cross the oceans. We are told to stay grounded, keep our feet firmly planted, not to rock the boat even if we are permitted to get on one.
But to the ones who were born to explore new horizons, travel the world and seven seas, cross every ocean, share the space-time continuum with kindred souls — soulmates and sail-mates, whose hearts, minds, bodies, and souls equally full of love, lust, desire, passion, adventure, and an insatiable hunger experience it all — to live lives even beyond the limits of imagination.
And it is with those distant unseen, maybe even nonexistent, ports of calling in mind, with hearts throbbing to have precious heartthrobs come along on the journey, that we venture out on the oceans of time. The irony of how even getting to the oceans calling our names sometimes means crossing rivers as obstacles along the way.
But the journey of a million lifetimes of love begins with a single step, with one look, with one kiss. Just as you start to get your feet wet, the sea of love itself rises to meet you, greet you, embrace you. And next thing you know you’re knee-deep in it. Hooked to the sea but unleashed in every sense.... nothing between where you are and where you want to be but Fate telling you the plot but you writing your Destiny.
Come, my beloveds, my sail-mates, let my words release the lines that tie you to the ordinary life, let my voice command you to your wildest dreams, let my eyes unwrap the sails draping you, let my fingers plot the poetry of our life’s journey mapped on the perfection of your body, as I penetrate the darkness of the night seas that scare you, together to open beautiful corridors like moist pink morning clouds, ready to be seen & seeded with an unbridled love of life... and an infinite life of love.
That is what I visualize from this photo. Can you see and feel it, my loves!
© 2020 IMRAN™
(I post my words from the iPhone screen as a stream of consciousness without any editing, so I often catch & fix typos or grammar issues later).
#Florida #TampaBay #ApolloBeach #love #life #lust #literature #prose #philosophy #sea #ocean #travel #lifecoach #IMRAN #gratitude #erotica #writing