Tahj is a poet wouldn’t you know it
And a philosopher who is a photographer
He’s also a number one fabulous fantastic son
Just not on soup much due to work, college and such
I love writing poetry that is so true,
and though I am not that good I draw too.
But, I love, love taking nature photography,
creating photos like a seasonal biography.
I go for long walks when the days are nice,
with hiking boots and camera for a picture to entice.
Often, these photo creations will truly inspire,
me- to write poetry that others will admire.
Poetry and photography are my loves true blue,
I wish to capture both in every possible hue.
The artistic soul is connected in all ways,
and I just follow it's violin whispering maze.
This is you; this is me,
at the end of the row, white-faced.
I have you clamped in an iron grip
to keep you from getting off my lap.
The camera was quick; next minute
you were howling your head off!
At the other end, Ray is not looking pleasant;
Yes, we can wait all day if we want to!
With an occasional worn-out sob,
Linda props her head against him
And I smile down at you just like
the photographer said to.
Nature’s Photographer
Heaven’s water-tanks roll loud on each cloud
At beats of drum pounding each lonely heart
Rain heavily bursts in great rhythms, so proud
Wind sways abruptly with billowing skirt
Cloudburst’s grand orchestra plays at dark sky
Thirsty trees raise arms at marvelous sight
Birds in dense leaves watch, no attempt to fly
Plants---in toast of glassy-leaves with delight
Earth soaks itself with nature’s greatest drink
While beasts and critters are all wondering
Bright light from clouds flashes at times in winks
Capturing nature’s concert with drinking
Lightning is nature’s star photographer
Paparazzo of nature’s caregiver
July 24,2022 3.41pm
https://www.howmanysyllables.com/syllable_counter/ and PS syllables counter
10-10-10-10/10-10-10-10/10-10-10-10/10-10
98 words
140 syllables
661 characters
Theme: Nature
3. Quatorzain, abab, cdcd etc etc x1 for 14 lines, 10 syllable lines, Quatorzian is similair to a Sonnet
It's All About Three Q's
Contest Judged: 7/31/2022 5:13:00 PM
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Place 3 (up to 3rd multi-w)
wonderful wetland
bewitching blue damselflies
photographer's eye
Wedding to night-
my friend too
snaps photos.
Buddleia bush
Hovering habitué
Beautiful capture.
Image by _Alicja_ from Pixabay
a pink sky pinker than any other sky I’ve ever seen
no one will believe it I thought so I took photos
One after another, but none could hope to capture it
For it was more than three dimensional, it was surreal dimensional
I gave up after the sixty-eighth disappointment
It looks cold out there my husband said, snuggled in his Lazy-Boy.
It is, I agreed, but worth it for it is so beautiful.
I thought you were not supposed to go out because of your asthma
I have a little doctor’s excuse about that because it is true.
I am not able to breathe well in less than thirty degrees
I went out anyway, and I stayed out
Trying to get the picture
Which I never got
Because this is
the pinkest
sky in the world
and I am that
photographer.
Lee Miller took risks which enabled her to see
The world through the saddest of lenses
Taking her to places where spirits were sobbing
She was ahead of her time, and it took a toll
For the camera, she wears a cloak mask
Showing the photographer only what she wants him to see
Her nightmares held her hostage
As she recalled the evilness of Nazi concentration camps
The optimism of children’s butterfly pictures not being enough
to dispel the hatred and horror she could not eliminate
She risked herself
To bring truth to the world
A brave and honorable woman
Who could not drowned the memories
of these atrocious acts of violence against humanity.
Picture this
World famous photographer
Or maybe not
Anyway, illusion of being one
Picture this
Shuts himself inside a darkroom
Most of sixty three years
Breathing
Ferric Chloride
Picture this
Dangerously alone
Loving his life
Creating fantastical photographs
Killing himself in the best way possible
Enjoying his art daily
Dilettante photographer
You have the eyes of your mother
A tigress A hunter
Seeking beauty in its lair
Be it fleeting transient
Chasing rainbow variables
Seizing its essence
Capturing its soul
Dragging home the trophies
Orchestrating your sanctuary
Your mosaic of riches
Your inner sanctum
Making it your own
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on February 15, 2018 for contest SUNRISE AND SUNSET sponsored by SILENT ONE - RANKED 1ST
She’s an artist of word and rhyme
He’s an artist of capturing time
She weaves lines creating emotion
He stills a moment in motion
He brings her into focus
She likens him to a crocus
They dance in monorhyme
The lighting is perfectly prime
He caresses her with long exposure
Her pen bleeds of love and allure
He looks for that shot he desires
Now she and her muse are on fire
His shutter snaps quick progression
She alliterates in rapid succession
Sunrise paints the sky with colors
Inspiring these would-be lovers
He’s waited for such perfect light
She’s yearned for inspiration to write
How fitting they finally meet
On the cliffs once walked by Keats
Her image fills the frame of his picture
As sonnets she pens like scripture
They were destined to be together
The Poetess and the Photographer.
The last time
I took
a photograph
Instamatics
were in flower
No one
could get over
the expression
on my index finger
The amateur click
Staggers like
Amateur words
Across stained glass
Autumn and
Skeleton winter
In which black
Water resembles
Not remotely
The sea clear as
Crystal
And echoes only
A shadow of the
Imperfect
A portrait of a façade
Wrinkling with the slightest breath
Like loose skin on taut knuckles
Leaving a mirage
Crude and inaccurate
As the syllables
Describing the phenomenon
In which the
Reflection itself becomes the
Fixation
The blurred image
Vaguely lucid
It may be just a portion
Perhaps a small detail
To get your fire scorching
Or lift your deceiving veil
One tenth of a second
The pressure of my finger
A tangible gift beckoned
It will forever linger
My quirkiness is a blessing
Oddness birthed beauty
Ingredients in my dressing
Don't harm, but rather suit me
I don't anticipate riches
At least, not by formal currency
My prize is within the stitches
Sewn together for you to see
I'm humbled by the art
I have the pleasure of showing
On your wall, Pieces of my heart
A gift that keeps bestowing
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