Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back
– Robert Frost
for wordpress weekly photo challenge – path
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back
– Robert Frost
for wordpress weekly photo challenge – path

sting, oh salty tears
sweet, anticipation
of a day, on the water
once was,
and now
gone
anticipation for wordpress weekly photo challenge
No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories
― Haruki Murakami

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
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
That’s rule number one for a photographer, isn’t it? Fill your frame?
― David Cronenberg, Consumed

For WordPress weekly photo challenge – frame
*Shot with Nikon D700 and AF 80-200mm f/2.8 D lens, ISO200, 200mm f/2.8 1/5000s, edited in Lightroom CC and Analog Efex Pro 2*
See also my contribution on salamancastreets
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

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