bCL Photography
L'estany de Puigcerdà. Puigcerdà (Catalonia)

Puigcerdà (Catalonia)

Silence

This is my contribution to this Weekly Photo Challenge. A beautiful lake that I already presented some time ago.
Sound is very close to silence in this place.
Thanks to Amitav Radiance for these beautiful words:
In Silence

Absorb the silence around
Know the silence and it messages
Connect with the inner self
At rest is the soul and mind
Moments that reveals the truth
Silence douses the flames of uncertainty
Rendezvous with silence
As silence is there to be deciphered

 

time for love

time for love

Harsh and cold
autumn holds to it our naked trees:
If only you would free, at least, the sparrows
from the tips of your fingers
and release a smile, a small smile
from the imprisoned cry I see.
Sing! Can we sing
as if we were light, hand in hand
sheltered in shade, under a strong sun?
Will you remain, this way
stoking the fire, more beautiful than necessary, and quiet?
Darkness intensifies
and the distant light is our only consolation —
that one, which from the beginning
has, little by little, been flickering
and is now about to go out.
Come to me. Closer and closer.
I don’t want to know my hand from yours.
And let’s beware of sleep, lest the snow smother us.

Distant light
by Walid Khazindar

Walid Khazindar was born in 1950 in Gaza City. He is considered one of the best Palestinian poets; his poetry has been said to be “characterized by metaphoric originality and a novel thematic approach unprecedented in Arabic poetry.” He was awarded the first Palestine Prize for Poetry in 1997.

friend playing guitar

friend playing guitar

Thanking today Peter Watkins for his poem.

Guitar

by Peter Watkins

Fingers like darts,
akin to fireflies,
zipping up and down, creating art,
along the fret board so the tune never dies.
Never stopping, undying,
Through the air, the notes are flying.

Striking out a barre,
slipping into a scale,
plucking the strings, in a swift flurry to blind like a star,
a needle sewing a tapestry that will fail to grow frail.
Never forgotten, undying,
Through your ears, the notes are caressing.

Until the plucking,
becomes part of you,
a song in the back of your mind, soothing your sighing,
coming to surface whenever your troubles come to face you.
Always remaining, undying,
Through your heart, the notes are building…

Until they’re ready to be let free.
Through violence, passion, creativity? It’s not up to me!

Andres Segovia1

Glasses

Old Glasses

Rose Colored Glasses

People take the world as they see it themselves
some see black
some see white
many see grey
as for me?
I see it for what it is….technicolored.

Life is far to wonderful and bright too see it as simple black
it is too deep and mysterious to be only white
it is too exciting and amazing to be described as grey
There’s a reason that there is color present everywhere.
If the world were colorless, so life would be… continue reading

Avery Bellafiore

Black Coffee

Black Coffee

Black Coffee

When I was younger,
I enjoyed drinking black coffee.

I liked the taste and the smell.
The bitterness but the sweetness of the coffee bean.

I realized later on how much coffee related to life.
There are bitter moments that stay on the pallate and create a lasting and pungent after taste.

But there are really sweet times that last even longer.

by Blurry Vision

Black Coffee

Black Coffee

Black Coffee

Black Coffee

cherry blossom

Cherry Blossoms

Everyone is seeing these days cherry blossoms. It is a beautiful spectacle that has not escaped anyone’s view worldwide. They are a clear sign of the coming of spring, one of the most beautiful seasons. These flowers belong to the cherry tree in my garden. Hope you like.

Japanese admire the cherry blossoms as the transient nature of life. The entire nation celebrates with festivals, and viewing parties and picnics, and after dark, the parks always seemed to be filled with strolling couples admiring the trees in the moonlight.

Some Japanese poems on the subject of cherry blossoms:

We cannot behold
the beauty of the blossoms
enshrouded by haze –
yet steal us their scent, at least,
spring breezes blowing from the hills.

Yoshimine no Munesada (816-90)

How many times now
have I crossed over hill crests
with the image
of blossoms leading me on –
toward nothing but white clouds?

Fujiwara no Shunzei (1114-1204)

Everyone feels grief
when cherry blossoms scatter.
Might they then be tears –
those drops of moisture falling
in the gentle rains of spring?

Otomo no Juronushi (late 9th century)

Cherry Blossoms

Cherry Blossoms

Thanks to The Endless Further for these beautiful poems.

This is the Third Post of the Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge.

Ephemeral

Ephemeral

Ephemeral

 

Why are all the beautiful things
In the world
Ephemeral?

They’re short lived,
Here today and
Gone tomorrow.

Just like a beautiful flower.
That lives for only a day
Before disappearing,
Disintegrating,
Blown away
By wisps of the wind.

Alexis
April 5, 2014

bicycle

A bicycle, often called a bike or cycle, is a human-powered, pedal-driven, single-track vehicle, having two wheels attached to a frame, one behind the other. A bicycle rider is called a cyclist, or bicyclist.

Bicycles were introduced in the 19th century in Europe and, as of 2003, number more than a billion worldwide, twice as many as automobiles. They are the principal means of transportation in many regions. They also provide a popular form of recreation, and have been adapted for use as children’s toys, general fitness, military and police applications, courier services, and bicycle racing.

The basic shape and configuration of a typical upright, or safety bicycle, has changed little since the first chain-driven model was developed around 1885. But many details have been improved, especially since the advent of modern materials and computer-aided design. These have allowed for a proliferation of specialized designs for many types of cycling.

The bicycle’s invention has had an enormous effect on society, both in terms of culture and of advancing modern industrial methods. Several components that eventually played a key role in the development of the automobile were initially invented for use in the bicycle, including ball bearings, pneumatic tires, chain-driven sprockets, and tension-spoked wheels.

Wikipedia

bclphotography.eu

Buildings. Berlin

Buildings. Berlin

3,000 Days

After three thousand days we stopped loving.
It left quietly, before the first blue in the sky,
while one could still see stars and long shadows.
It walked barefoot across the moonlit floor admiring its feet,
holding a pair of shoes in one hand and an old toothbrush in the other.
It tried to look back but the thought of salt was too great. When it
reached the door,
it shut its eyes going back to minutes prior, with you in bed and your
quiet breath.
It tried to memorize your lashes and the creases in your lips, each
a mini-wrinkle.
It wanted more time but knew that more time was not an option.
It did not close the door entirely for fear of making noise, so
that forever
after we stopped loving, everything was framed in the sullen violet
of almost morning. Almost something that was not enough.

by Erika Moya

Erika Moya is a painter and writer. Her work has appeared in Qaartsiluni, the Smoking Poet, the Holly Rose Review, SN Review, the Toronto Quarterly, and Mosaic: Art and Literary journal of the University of California, Riverside. She attends the MFA program of the University of North Carolina Wilmington.

maria

maria

Catalan version:

Mireu-me els ulls

Mireu-me els ulls per creure
en el demà que teniu als dits,
sense llum
dels meus ulls clars
no hi haurà per ningú
cap demà.

Penseu en mi per créixer
en l’esperança d’uns anys millors,
la llibertat
que ens heu negat
brilla al fons dels meus ulls
encisats.

Sols el poder us tempta
i pel poder us veneu el cor,
però la clau d’or
del temps que fuig
la tinc jo i és la veu
del futur.

Mireu-me els ulls per créixer… per créixer…

English version:

Look at my eyes to believe
in the morning you have fingers,
no light
my eyes clear
there will be no one to
no tomorrow.

Consider me to grow
in the hope of better years,
freedom
we have denied
shines in the background of my eyes
enchanted.

Only the power tempts you
and will sell power to the heart,
but the golden key
time flees
I have it and it is the voice
the future.

Look at my eyes to grow … to grow …

Miquel Martí i Pol (March 19, 1929 – November 11, 2003)
was one of the most popular poets from Catalunya (Europe) in the 20th century.

Maria

Maria

 

maria1

María

Yo no quiero más luz que tu cuerpo ante el mío

Yo no quiero más luz que tu cuerpo ante el mío:
claridad absoluta, transparencia redonda.
Limpidez cuya extraña, como el fondo del río,
con el tiempo se afirma, con la sangre se ahonda..

¿Qué lucientes materias duraderas te han hecho,
corazón de alborada, carnación matutina?
Yo no quiero más día que el que exhala tu pecho.
Tu sangre es la mañana que jamás se termina.

No hay más luz que tu cuerpo, no hay más sol: todo ocaso.
Yo no veo las cosas a otra luz que tu frente.
La otra luz es fantasma, nada más, de tu paso.
Tu insondable mirada nunca gira al poniente.

Claridad sin posible declinar. Suma esencia
del fulgor que ni cede ni abandona la cumbre.
Juventud. Limpidez. Claridad. Transparencia
acercando los astros más lejanos de lumbre.

Claro cuerpo moreno de calor fecundante.
Hierba negra el origen; hierba negra las sienes.
Trago negro los ojos, la mirada distante.
Día azul. Noche clara. Sombra clara que vienes.

Yo no quiero más luz que tu sombra dorada
donde brotan anillos de una hierba sombría.
En mi sangre, fielmente por tu cuerpo abrasada,
para siempre es de noche: para siempre es de día.

Miguel Hernández (October 30, 1910-March 28, 1942), born in Orihuela (Alicante Province), was a leading 20th century Spanish poet and playwright.

Julia

Julia

Here I Am … by Charles Bukowski

drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end of my 2nd bottle
of wine, I have typed from a dozen to 15 pages of
poesy
an old man
maddened for the flesh of young girls in this
dwindling twilight
liver gone
kidneys going
pancrea pooped
top-floor blood pressure
while all the fear of the wasted years
laughs between my toes
no woman will live with me
no Florence Nightingale to watch the
Johnny Carson show with
if I have a stroke I will lay here for six
days, my three cats hungrily ripping the flesh
from my elbows, wrists, head
the radio playing classical music …
I promised myself never to write old man poems
but this one’s funny, you see, excusable, be-
cause I’ve long gone past using myself and there’s
still more left
here at 3 a.m. I am going to take this sheet from
the typer
pour another glass and
insert
make love to the fresh new whiteness
maybe get lucky
again
first for
me
later
for you.

Charles Bukowski

from “All’s Normal Here” – 1985

Henry Charles Bukowski (August 16, 1920 – March 9, 1994) was a German American poet, novelist, and short story writer

images for a free world

struggling together

- everything related to mental health.

Broken Light: A Photography Collective

We are photographers living with or affected by mental illness; supporting each other one photograph at a time. Join our community, submit today!

caryl beach

visual artist : observing the everyday

SAVVY

Adulting for Dummies

From my guardaviñas

Sharing ideas. Photos, travels, music, History, stories,...

Out of My Write Mind

The blog of Sandy J. White

Mistakes & Adventures

What I've always wanted

TIMES OF LION

Exposing Truth

Tiffany Belle Harper

we learn we know nothing

fauxcroft

living life in conscious reality

fresh poetry

lindi-ann hewitt-coleman

Author's Canvas

The Technical Writing Blog

..........365 Days...........

~deserting 365 Days for 365 Days, Needed a Break. Tales From My Lens is one click away~

Whippet Wisdom - a Highland Journey

A journey through the seasons with two adopted whippets, a poet and a camera

The Reluctant Photographer

Life with my camera

Christine's Blog

Every Day is a New Adventure!

THEGIRLVERSUSWORLD

WHEN IN DOUBT, WRITE IT DOWN..!!

niecodziennik

notatki. fotografie. myśli

Half a photograph

Because it's fun to click imperfect photographs

Madame Zenista

Thats what she said!

Penfountain's Blog

Fountain pen, inks, nibs, paper and general stuff

Fountain pen blog

Pens, inks, notebooks and other accessories

Scriptorium Pens

Custom, Handcrafted Fountain Pens

Gjertsen Photography

- preserving moments -

ankcody.wordpress.com/

LEARN AND EXPLORE

kirilson photography

the stories behind the pictures, and vice versa

Locksmith in Lipstick

Life, love, laughter and locks

The Journey of My Left Foot (whilst remembering my son)

I have Malignant Melanoma, my son had Testicular Cancer

J. A. Allen

Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins

Smart Veg Recipes

Welcome to home made, vegeterian, healthy & kids friendly recipes

M.T. Bass

Books, Stories & Musings

Nib & Muck

Stationery can be sexy

MacPsych.me

Never knowingly wrong. Except for that one time. When I was mistaken.

Read, Write, Inspire

Geek, Chic and Chaotically Organised!

Krafting with Karen

All things stationery and planner related

%d bloggers like this: