A mixture of art in all its forms and random grabs from life and whatever else bubbles up….

Nature

Mărţişor…..Pentru tine…

For

you

in the first place as always…. 🙂

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Miercurea fara cuvinte…An Alien in Parcul Pantelimon monday morning….

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY STARTS HERE

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Miercurea fara cuvinte…Cricket in our bedroom….


Full view click here

Miercurea fara cuvinte starts here

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The warm and the cold…

SOURCE

The Warm and the Cold

Freezing dusk is closing
Like a slow trap of steel
On trees and roads and hills and all
That can no longer feel.
But the carp is in its depth
Like a planet in its heaven.
And the badger in its bedding
Like a loaf in the oven.
And the butterfly in its mummy
Like a viol in its case.
And the owl in its feathers
Like a doll in its lace.

Freezing dusk has tightened
Like a nut screwed tight
On the starry aeroplane
Of the soaring night.
But the trout is in its hole
Like a chuckle in a sleeper.
The hare strays down the highway
Like a root going deeper.
The snail is dry in the outhouse
Like a seed in a sunflower.
The owl is pale on the gatepost
Like a clock on its tower.

Moonlight freezes the shaggy world
Like a mammoth of ice –
The past and the future
Are the jaws of a steel vice.
But the cod is in the tide-rip
Like a key in a purse.
The deer are on the bare-blown hill
Like smiles on a nurse.
The flies are behind the plaster
Like the lost score of a jig.
Sparrows are in the ivy-clump
Like money in a pig.

Such a frost
The flimsy moon
Has lost her wits.

A star falls.

The sweating farmers
Turn in their sleep
Like oxen on spits.

Ted Hughes

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Miercurea fara cuvinte…14..A very cold day at a lake in Finland…We need to have some coolness here..

Photo by me ..click here for full view

Wordless wednesday starts here

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A crown of flowers….


Photo by me …click here for full view

A crown of flowers
~
I don a crown of flowers
To mask the sorrow inside
Eyes which fall upon its beauty
Do not see the tears I cry
While the flowers bud to blossom
I wilt to almost nothing
In a garden colour filled with life
There is also a shadow found
In the sun the flower buds open
In the dark a heart is closed
The flowers shall be woven together
To hide something left unseen
The rose, the tulip and the bluebell rise
I am envious of their beautiful life
So I don I crown of flowers
To mask my sorrow inside

Matthew Holloway

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A view…


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The octopus…

The Octopus
By James Merrill 1926–1995

There are many monsters that a glassen surface
Restrains. And none more sinister
Than vision asleep in the eye’s tight translucence.
Rarely it seeks now to unloose
Its diamonds. Having divined how drab a prison
The purest mortal tissue is,
Rarely it wakes. Unless, coaxed out by lusters
Extraordinary, like the octopus
From the gloom of its tank half-swimming half-drifting
Toward anything fair, a handkerchief
Or child’s face dreaming near the glass, the writher
Advances in a godlike wreath
Of its own wrath. Chilled by such fragile reeling
A hundred blows of a boot-heel
Shall not quell, the dreamer wakes and hungers.
Percussive pulses, drum or gong,
Build in his skull their loud entrancement,
Volutions of a Hindu dance.
His hands move clumsily in the first conventional
Gestures of assent.
He is willing to undergo the volition and fervor
Of many fleshlike arms, observe
These in their holiness of indirection
Destroy, adore, evolve, reject—
Till on glass rigid with his own seizure
At length the sucking jewels freeze.

source

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Fallen….

Autumn Leaves

I am a leaf in the yards of someone,
I am fallen in the lands of only one

They have no yard of their own,
There are no leaves green or brown

They have nothing to be fallen,
They have nothing to be shown

All has been stolen my dear,
All has been lost no cheer

I am an Aboriginal leaf in my yard,
I have been fallen on the land

My leaves muddy red such a blood,
They have been damaged very badly

I have nothing all has gone,
My colourful yard has been brawn

The house of my yard has been knocked down,
Farms, vineyards have been burnt even the town

They pulled and pulled my yard trees,
Until their roots were torn of the ground

We never rest until the wind rests,
When they leave we leave too

We never stop until the leaves stop falling,
When the summer keeps the leaves fidgeted on trees

Im always in love with you; never its too late,
I like to see a green yard in your eye

Old and ragged things will be moulded on their land,
But the sun light of our hearts will win all in our hand.

Dana Kadir

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The deadly kiss…..

A spider’s delicate steps do not trammel the petals of the rose. Its kiss, however, is deadly.

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