‘…who will appear in order to say ecstasies that are unsayable’
― rainer maria rilke, letters to a young poet
for wordpress weekly photo challenge – sweet
*shot with fujifilm x100f and 23mm (35mm full frame equivalent) lens at ISO200, f/2 and 1/150s in uyo, akwa ibom state, nigeria*
Death, therefore, the most awful of evils, is nothing to us, seeing that, when we are, death is not come, and, when death is come, we are not.
– Epicurus
we chase it
for eternity
yet, what do we lose
in our (endless)
chase
for, that
serene
(moment)
and
can
we find
it
before that
door
closes?
a dark slice of poetry for wordpress weekly photo challenge – Serene
*shot with fujifilm x100f with fixed 23mm (35mm full frame equivalent) lens at ISO1250, f/4 and 1/60s*
freedom, is
mine
(was the cry)
and then,
that
freedom
(was sold)
and,
the
price
paid,
the value,
of
that,
(precious) life
the
right
to be
independent
(no
more)
– experimental
For WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge – Experimental
And, perhaps, a prelude to the return of a weekly poetry prompt
. . .sometimes one feels freer speaking to a stranger than to people one knows. Why is that?
‘Probably because a stranger sees us the way we are, not as he wishes to think we are’
― Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind
stranger, in a strange land
plucked from the earth
roots ripped
torn
stranger, in a strange land
plucked
ripped
torn
stranger, in a strange land
you, smell
so
sweet
Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime
― Ernest Hemingway
it could
(perhaps)
be said, that
liberal (thinking) is in, a
corner
right now
the question
is
what will
become
of us
of them
of you
of me
For WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge – Corner
*Image made with Fujifilm X100F and 23mm fixed lens (35mm full frame equivalent) at ISO1250 (don’t even go there), 1/800s and f/5.6 outside the Cortes, Madrid*
Those who were living now are dead
Those who were breathing are from the living earth fled.
If you want to see how the poor die, come see Grenfell Tower.
From the impassioned poem on the fire at Grenfell, by Nigerian writer, Ben Okri, whose poem, published in the Financial Times on 23 June, 2017 is a searing statement from which it is impossible to hide, impossible to avert one’s gaze, impossible to forget.
I wrote earlier this week about my arrival in London, on the red-eye from Lagos, and my efforts to both stay awake and entertained before being allowed to pass through the portal of my hotel.
I decided, after grabbing some breakfast, and scribbling a short poem, (which I published on Facebook), to walk along the South Bank to the Tate Modern. During my walk I found some inspiration by shooting the various vans being prepared for the hordes of tourists soon to fill the streets which at that time were still and relatively quiet.
What I hadn’t counted on was the degree of connectivity I felt with the things I saw and experienced that morning.
we will remember them
those (we) forgot
until, too late
for them
we will remember them
who died, under a plume that stained
our sky
and
our, complacency
we will remember them
and their
righteous, anger
against our
failure
we will, remember them
won’t we?
poetry101rehab – grenfell
words, obscured
by (razor) wire
and the (best of)
intention
words, unbidden
by careless
thoughts, and
inattention
words
just words
cause wounds
deeper, than razor
wire
it’s been a while, poetry 101 rehab
sting, oh salty tears
sweet, anticipation
of a day, on the water
once was,
and now
gone
anticipation for wordpress weekly photo challenge
andy townend 