I cannot, always
See all I want to see
Know all I want to know
See all I want to see
Know all I want to know
But I am learning
To see beauty
In all that I can see
Tag: beauty
No mere recorder this
Light falls
On an electric canvas
Strokes from a brush
Made of glass
On an electric canvas
Strokes from a brush
Made of glass
Interpretations
Of a world made
From highlights
And shadows
Rendering texture
And line
I can see for miles
Sometimes
I can see for miles and miles
But still have no clue
Where the road will take me
I can see for miles and miles
But still have no clue
Where the road will take me
Aperture
An aperture always defines
The world within its frame
By what it includes
By what it excludes
By the format of its frame
By the point of view
By the tones it renders
By the subject it chooses
The world within its frame
By what it includes
By what it excludes
By the format of its frame
By the point of view
By the tones it renders
By the subject it chooses
Depth of Field
I am drawn to a small dab
A weld attaching the “5” to the sphere
Why am I drawn there?
A weld attaching the “5” to the sphere
Why am I drawn there?
My eye wants to take in the “5”
To follow curves
Explore hard edges
Take in textures
Derelict Docks
The only thing
Unchanging
In a landscape
Of the past
Unchanging
In a landscape
Of the past
Is the part of us
Which believes history
Is about the past
The greatest doings of men
I gaze across the chasm,
Marvelling at craftsmanship
At sheer force of will
The artistry and ingenuity of human beings
Seeking to make the world
A little better for themselves
A little more comfortable
A little more secure
Marvelling at craftsmanship
At sheer force of will
The artistry and ingenuity of human beings
Seeking to make the world
A little better for themselves
A little more comfortable
A little more secure
Perhaps
A little more beautiful.
A canyon of brown and pine
There is nothing quite like
A canyon of brown and pine
Turned white
Enveloped, still, in the grey storm
Passing through
Leaving its wintry gift
A canyon of brown and pine
Turned white
Enveloped, still, in the grey storm
Passing through
Leaving its wintry gift
Shrouded
Shrouded in the grey
Of sea mist
Of fog
Of cloud
Of sea mist
Of fog
Of cloud
I sit in the dunes
Shrouded there too
By the tall dune grass
In the November greys
In the November greys
Cold and wet
I have the beaches to myself
Mile upon mile
As if they were put here
Just for my pleasure
Cold and wet
I have the beaches to myself
Mile upon mile
As if they were put here
Just for my pleasure
Pix to Words 