poetry | 101 | rehab | red

No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories
― Haruki Murakami

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voices, filled (the air)
have, one more
don’t despair

(warm) fingers, tracing, searching
did they (who watched) care
have, one more

more, and more
no one (really) saw
or so, it seemed

blue eyes
yes (they cared, oh how so much)
told, no lies

feelings rising
choices, stretching
(out)

don’t be scared
choose, the blue
ride, the red

you’ll soon
be

dead


red

This week, my poetry prompt is red

edge

Beyond the edge of the world there’s a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard.
– Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore



For the WordPress weekly photo challenge – edge

Shot and edited on iPhone 6s

project 365 | mobile | mono | skies | twelve

I launched this, my latest Project 365, on Monday 13 June 2016 by posting a single photo each day to my Instagram account and to my Flickr account.

I will post an update each Sunday and you can see them all by clicking here.

Watch the skies!

project 365 | mobile | mono | skies | eleven

I launched this, my latest Project 365, on Monday 13 June 2016 by posting a single photo each day to my Instagram account and to my Flickr account.

I will post an update each Sunday and you can see them all by clicking here.

Watch the skies!

project 365 | mobile | mono | skies | ten

I launched this, my latest Project 365, on Monday 13 June 2016 by posting a single photo each day to my Instagram account and to my Flickr account.

I will post an update each Sunday and you can see them all by clicking here.

Watch the skies!

old chapel

I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, “This is what it is to be happy.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

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fenced in

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ashen

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dare you?

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laid bare

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peeled and scrubbed

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baked in

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bright red tomatoes

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just don’t

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yes, indeed

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do not remove

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out of place

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disused

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emptied

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well stocked

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lucky


Images shot at The Old Chapel, near Crickhowell in South Wales, with Nikon D700 in manual mode at ISO200 and Nikkor AF-S 50mm f/1.4 G and Nikkor AF 80-20omm f/2.8 D lenses.

that quiet earth

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…listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth

Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte

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Hidden away, yet not so very far away, from the asphalted path to (over)heated holiday hell waits a world of standing stone sentinels, chalked up symbolism, whispering reeds, serried rows of silent corn. No queues for petrol, diesel, burgers (nor crushing coronaries). No three-laned black topped road to nowhere (and back again).

No sound, except the wind, and the well of words within.

Shot with Nikon D700 in manual mode and ISO200 with AF Nikkor 80-200mm f/2.8D lens.

poetry | 101 | rehab | whisper

There’s no need to raise your voice here. You don’t have to convince anybody of anything, and you don’t have to attract anyone’s attention
― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

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I hear you,

whisper

in the long grass

and in, the reeds

along, the banks.

I hear you,

whisper

in the leaves, of the

trees

and (in) the beards of those

who ride long,

and hard.

I hear you,

whisper

in the (endless) night,

when the stars,

fall,

and (yes)

I hear you, whisper

when you, are

gone.


whisper

This week, my poetry prompt is only a whisper