View allAll Photos Tagged sorrow...
They say immigrants steal the hubcaps
Of the respected gentlemen
They say it would be wine and roses
If England were for Englishmen again
Well I saw a dirty overcoat
At the foot of the pillar of the road
Propped inside was an old man
Whom time would not erode
When the night was snapped by sirens
Those blue lights circled past
The dancehall called for an ambulance
The bars all closed up fast
My silence gazing at the ceiling
While roaming the single room
I thought the old man could help me
If he could explain the gloom
You really think it's all new?
You really think about it too?
The old man scoffed as he spoke to me
I'll tell you a thing or two
I missed the fourteen-eighteen war
But not the sorrow afterwards
With my father dead and my mother ran off
My brothers took the pay of hoods
The twenties turned the north was dead
The hunger strike came marching south
At the garden party not a word was said
The ladies lifted cake to their mouths
The next war began and my ship sailed
With battle orders writ in red
In five long years of bullets and shells
We left ten million dead
The few returned to old Piccadilly
We limped around Leicester Square
The world was busy rebuilding itself
The architects could not care
But how could we know when I was young
All the changes that were to come?
All the photos in the wallets on the battlefield And now the terror of the scientific sun
There was master and servants
And servants and dogs
They taught you how to touch your cap
But throught strikes and famine
And war and peace
England never closed this gap
So leave me now the moon is up
But remember all the tales I tell
The memories that you have dredged up
Are on letters forwarded from hell
The streets were now deserted
The gangs had trudged off home
The lights clicked off in the bedsits
And old England was all alone
something about england
sandinista
the clash
ما
فاتحان شهر های رفته بر بادیم
با صدایی ناتوان تر زانکه بیرون آید از سینه
راویان قصه های رفته از یادیم
کس به چیزی یا پشیزی بر نگیرد سکه هامانرا
گویی از شاهیست بیگانه
یا ز میری دودمانش منقرض گشته
گاهگه بیدار می خواهیم شد زین خواب جادویی
همچو خواب همگنان غار
چشم میمالیم و می گوییم :آنک طرفه قصر زرنگار صبح شیرینکار
لیک بی مرگست دقیانوس
وای وای افسوس
اخوان ثالث
Persian Gulf, Gheshm Island (infront of Portugese Fort),Iran,
April 2004
"The sorrow grips and imprisons
my heart."
Shot for a university project. The subject struggles with grief and sorrow following a disagreement with their spouse.
Photographed with a Nikon D5200, paired with a Nikkor 18-55mm.
Sorrow found me when I was young
Sorrow waited, sorrow won
I live in a city sorrow built
It's in my honey, it's in my milk
The National
Sometimes photography feels like therapy (not that I need therapy, but you know what I mean, I hope). It's the thing that you just needed that moment, where you can pour your feelings into. Something that makes you feel instantly better. Photography for me is almost as necessary as breathing (only I don't have to do it that often ;)). I can not explain, but I'm sure many of you can relate. It helps me cope with life. (Don't worry, there's nothing bad going on :))
And I'm also damn ready for spring to come!! It was literally freezing and even snowing when I took those pictures.
View large!!
& Yay on Explore ^__^
(2003 / 2010) This is a tronie of a lady with a glimpse of sadness. The original art is an 18 X 24 inch pen and marker drawing composed with stylized line art. The digital version was done in Photoshop with shading based on a photo of Jennifer Connelly in a similar angle.
Thank for all the support but I'm sorry guys that I haven't got the time to keep up with the commenting on your photos,the way things are I can't keep up with the amount of amazing photos there is to view, I'll hope you all understand.
Mamiya C330, Mamiya Sekor 135mm f/4.5 @f/5.6, yellow filter, Kentmere 100 @ISO 50, 38 minutes in Caffenol CL-CS @15-20°C, Zone Imaging Eco Zonefix.
Two friends embrace as the 1430 kings Cross to Edinburgh arrives at Newcastle Central behind 91132 to take one away.
To quote the bard.......
"Parting is such sweet sorrow"
(...)
a praia é silêncio, temos astros invisíveis
e fogueiras por acender nas palmas das mãos,
e os dedos não entendem a mágoa da estação.
(...)
(Vasco Gato, in Um Mover de Mão, Assírio & Alvim, 2000)
-----------------------------------------------------------
(rough translation)
the beach is silence, we have invisible stars
and unburnt fires in the palm of our hands,
and the fingers do not understand the sorrow of the season.
(Vasco Gato)
331/365
I forgot to post it on here, but there are two new blog posts up recently: here and here :)
Please view this on black to see the detail!
The fact that the end of this project is coinciding with the end of the school year and finals is killlling me.
Hope you're having a good night ♥
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Sorrows.
Daemoniorum gemitus eiulatusque ululantibus urbes florentissimas morte horribili mugitu gravi servitutis opera diaboli fraudes latent voces figurata noctibus,
Sterbliche Fleisch Mitleid Gräber klagen Flöten absteigende Hoffnungen ewige Leiden schreien Tage satanische Augen sichtbare Stürme prophetische Zerstörungen,
années maussades terreurs féroces tournant les forces jalousie créé des plans invisibles silence rouge accidents sombres brûlant montagnes ombres morts,
εμπόδια θάλασσες τεράστιες άγριες σκέψεις ισχυρό σκοτάδι θειούχα σώματα ανεμοστρόβιλοι αφόρητη μαύρη γη που αγωνίζονται τρέλα,
perros que lamentan llorando las alas impetuosas de la vanidad incesante maldad confusa sentidos infinitos ardientes profundos vacíos hongo inmenso ennegrecimiento tempestad,
怒り狂う声永遠の痛み永遠の痛みバイパー舌弱い恐ろしい地下室をむさぼり食うクモの下品な哲学の敵裸の精神的な道詩的な理解衰退する球蛇に苦しむイエスが勝つイエスが勝つ.
Steve.D.Hammond.
Lost in her own world of misery.
Completely oblivious to everything else.
Photoshopped image of original downloaded from pixabay.
I contain the blood of the past
And all the blood of the future
At some point you will want reconciliation
On your personal altar
My cup runneth over
With blood that has been spilled
How many more does there need to be
Until everybody has been killed?
Can a cup hold too much blood
When does it reach saturation point
Or will it keep soaking it up
Like the warriors of old all gobbled up
The dead were poured in
Hoping for resurrection to begin
Ready to fight again
The flame rising for a fleeting moment
But it is only a short glory
One part of the endless story
Fading into history
Barely glimpsed but still there
But that’s the lure
Of the promise of life everlasting
Repeating repeating
Always stopping but not really starting
Do you want to live again
False blood in your veins
Be honest be sure
Do you want to come back for more
My tears are now of blood
Running down my face
Is there any hope left for you
In this desolate place
This earth that I once called my home
Now you are all throwing stones
Any target will suffice
Especially if it is thrown with vice
Evil likes to use labels
It laughs when you mention Babel
Many voices all talking at once
Because is this not the truth of it all
Nobody is listening to those you once loved
All that is left after all these years
Is the scent of dried blood
And the screams in your ears
*****
I debated with myself for a long time as to whether this work should be posted. But as a person who has spent her photographic life wandering around churchyards and communing with the dead, how could I ignore what is going on the world? The answer to that is of course I cannot, and as parts of the world are tearing themselves apart the questions and answers that people have become all the more urgent.
I can provide the answers that I know personally to be true, but it does not mean anybody else will believe me. I can give comfort in my images, and it is there, but sometimes comfort is not enough. Other times a recognition that war, upheaval and death has visited our world again, and the fact that it affects everybody, no matter how far you stick your head in the sand, is needed; it needs to be acknowledged.
Is religion the cause of wars? Is it better to not believe in anything? Some prefer to live this way and one can understand the reasoning in these times of terrible upheaval. But faith is not the whole story for why wars happen. That is far too easy a reason to choose for wars. Add on the reasons of territory and power and we might get nearer to the truth.
Those that stand by their faith, or choose to be ‘faithful’ do so because it defines them, or they have had an experience that has changed their life, or they just ‘know’, and their minds will not be changed. Others are raised to believe, it is endemic in their culture. There are many reasons why people believe in their faith.
But where the question of death is concerned it is a great motivator in causing anxiety about your own life and how you might meet your demise. Suddenly everything narrows down. What comes after? Does anything come after? Faith provides some with answers, others just hope those answers are right.
Death…whether we like it or not, rules our lives and how we live it. Death is the greatest mystery on this earth. Death defines who we are, because we are constantly preparing for it, even when we think we are not. In other words, how we contemplate death results in how we live our lives and communicate with our fellow human beings while we are on this earth.
Death has a lot to answer for. But we can choose how we meet it, either with dignity or chaos.
I am aware that some people will not read all of this. And depending what account you have with Flickr, it might be too long even to attempt reading it all. Multi-scrolling is a nuisance, lets be honest.
So this work will also go up on my website, where you can read it at your leisure and in a better format for free. I will put a link on here when it is up. [See Below, now up].
I would also like to point out that this image has not been put through any kind of photoshop. All I have is the iPhoto App on my computer. I like to do the bare minimum as regards editing with my images, because that was how I was trained. And I spend enough hours writing, let alone messing about with anything else. I might crop, reduce or increase exposure, or add a filter if it warrants it.
This image was cropped from the original, to reduce the foreground. The exposure was taken down about two notches and that was it.
This cup creates its own atmosphere when I take it out. It tells its own story quite happily, or with sadness or despair. Often I just feel like a bystander, allowed to be in its presence, gifted with the knowledge it is imparting.
Then I share it with you.
I have paired this work with Miserere mei, Dues, by Gregorio Allegri. Performed by the Choir of New College, Oxford. The beauty of this piece is undeniable.
youtu.be/36Y_ztEW1NE?si=kClcyO4Gn4GLnNWi
I have now uploaded this work onto my website, a few reasons why; it is an important work for me personally...a strong work. It is also for this time in history. And it is so you can see it in the format closest to how I have designed it to be seen. It will be printed out and placed in my own portfolio as a finished work.
Here is the link to the Grail Poems page on my website. Just scroll down to the end.
www.shelleyturnerpoetpix.com/grail-poems
And if you would like to see more of my work, have a look at my website at:
Funerary monument on the tomb of the Bill family in the churchyard of St. Peter's Parish Church in the village of Alstonefield, Staffordshire. Peak District National Park.
life is filled with joys and sorrows. opening the heart to love means opening the heart to sadness. being awake means feeling everything. and i wouldn't want it any other way.
Campo de' Fiori: Giordano Bruno's statue and Lacoste advertisement.
The philosopher was burned in this place.
Taken while waiting for Naftalina007
LIGHTBOX!
Selfportrait.
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Autoritratto.