Category Archives: Illustrated

Inside/Outside

External splendours

Am I inside or

outside? Should I

attend to the meal I

carefully prepared or

gawp at the clouds and that

further beyond that

beckons with a

crooked finger that

never points to anything

definite but

merely implies?

 

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Frayed

Frayed Richard Potter

I’m frayed but

unafraid of being

battered by elements

as long as one

strand will bear my

bare footprints

long enough to be

seen before the

high tide comes.

 

(Photo with the kind permission of Richard B. Potter aka The Subtle Penguin on Twitter, and go see his lovely work)

Life Curves

Life Curve

I knew behind those clouds were

stars, just the ones I could see, and

behind them stars and stars and

yet more stars

 

but so what when

life is almost but

not quite, close but

no cigar? Well maybe

 

half-empty or half-full

life curves away from

mystery to the

stone kicked, the

 

moment we have all felt when

our dreams must

give way to a

different reality.

Moontide

Moon window

Sometimes my house trembles

with the weight of the

Moon passing over

lifting it like a

tide of bricks and

dust.

Kindling

Kindling

The night’s a hearth,

the Moon its fire, and we,

poor feral creatures,

merely kindling.

Mysterious Light

Mysterious Light2

The inevitable tumbling of

Earth and Moon sometimes

involves us in

mysterious light

Doors

Doors

My life seems full of doors:

some open, what’s beyond them

done, wanting me to stay;

some ajar, tempting, though I

know behind some lies mischief;

some are firmly closed, locked and

loaded with possibilities and dread,

leaking strange scents

 

These I sometimes attempt to open:

try all those odd spare keys, get my

screwdriver out, though I

draw the line at jemmies,

hammers or hatchets, since I would

rather be locked out than

force a door I wished I had

never opened.

 

Hopscotch

Hopscotch

Either nature likes sending

complicated equations to

tease our cerebral cortex or

it has a bizarre notion of

how to play

hopscotch.

Cranes

Diana

Most times, of course, she was

outside looking in as that

blank room slid by on her

morning commute, but

 

at night sometimes she was

inside looking out at that

blank face passing, both

craning their necks,

 

each trying to fathom the

other’s story.

 

(Image courtesy of the wonderful Diana Matisz)

Sun/Shade

Curtain_Heat

Protecting myself from the heat

I have built a

shrine of shadows.

N A L I N D A

P H O T O G

Apollonia Saintclair

Ink is my Blood

CHARLESVAS

Alla ricerca della scatola magica...

Diana Marin

Fine Art Photography, Poetry, Multimedia art, & Editorials

Rusted Honey

Poetry, haiku, tanka, and micropoetry

Turning the Lights Off

Random musings inside my head no matter how hard I try to shut the damn lights off

Southern Georgia Bunny

Adventures of an Southern Bunny everything from dating, sex, life and shake your head moments.

Secret Dates Diary

Diary from a hotwife's perspective

Lessons in Kate

What can I teach you?

Human Pages

The Best of History, Literature, Art & Religion

The Cat's Write

Milly Schmidt