I’m playing Jenga, at a social group. At a social group, playing Jenga I’m. The best block to take out is the middle one — not an absolute, but two left either side sounds solid. Two left either side sounds solid — the best block to take out is the middle one, not an absolute. We are playing for a photoshoot for the social group’s new website, so I purposely remove a crucial block to knock over the tower. For the social group’s new website to knock over the tower, I remove purposely a crucial block, so we are playing for a photoshoot. The photographer wasn’t ready, though. Though, the photographer wasn’t ready. Twice, we’ve rebuilt the tower so he could get a photo of it falling. So he could get a photo of it falling, we’ve rebuilt the tower twice. He didn’t get the shot the time second. The second time, he didn’t get the shot. Third time lucky. Lucky time third.
After the Jengaful afternoon, we wish each other a nice eve. We wish each other a nice eve, after the Jengaful afternoon. Words fall as water, then Jenga into towers.
As water, words fall.
As Jenga, words tower.
On days when it feels like my heart yearns for nothing more than the quiet embrace of cold dirt and moss covering my bones. I go outside with a camera, anything capable of capturing something. And I wander aimlessly in places maybe I've lived my entire life but never truly seen and sometimes in places I've never been seeing it through the fog of pain for the first time. I take photos of the way light dances through the flesh of dying leaves. Of how lichen slowly grows on all things in these mountains. And it makes my heart ache to know that there is such devastating beauty to be seen through my camera and still I do not want to be here on days like this. For if still in moments watching as the light fades beautifully through the trees can not make the illness in me stutter for a moment. Well I'm unsure of what else to do. For this beauty makes me yearn all the more for the feel of moss growing on my bones as I grow ever more brittle in the fading light of the sun through wavering leaves.
I'm smitten with the whole process of afternoon photography ~
when the sun begins to tire because it's traveled far
having arched through the expanse of sky,
as it retires it exudes an aura that's sweet and mellow
Its lingering golden light caresses every element of nature
And casts long shadows in the most delightful ways.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
photography is an obsession of mine
love taking snaps by design
the capturing of moments that align
my passion for chasing sunshine
and seeing how its beauty imitates the divine
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Images from a cogged box.
A camera reveals
hips and ankles, ribbons
decorously draped
over a contrived modesty.
An artist has added a color tint,
their cheeks are rosy,
their lips red,
a patchwork of painted glow.
Half revealed bosoms flush and bloom.
Pauses in an upper room.
A warm lamp licks,
feathers and brocade are adjusted.
The girls choreograph
next moves.
A gentleman photographer
toggles knurled brass knobs
throws a veiling drape over
his head and mind.
The models are beyond
this moments capture,
they are sealed by silence,
yet their images,
their one-act legacy,
is an amber inclusion
raised up as a photograph
for all to admire in secret.
My photography style is you:
I hear you. I see you.
You are beautiful.
Wish me luck
On my journey.
And so it begin,
With a camera,
A little snap click
My interest begun,
Every angle requires
Precision and appreciation
Ignites my interest
In photography, in beauty
In nature, then you of course.
Two millenia past, and more.' A night gathering of the
Sanhedrin, which is i beleive of un-law? So not by day under
Gods sun, as Gid advised Moses, justice should be seen to
Be done, Yeshua knew that wrong would be done He also
Knew His accusers ' everyone' tortured and crucified unto
Death, just after forgiving His tormentors, he gave His last
Breath' He was taken down 'His body intact' no bones
Were broken. and such is the fact.' They took His body to
Josephs tomb, wrapped Him and left, they were full of
Gloom.' Yet Jesus In spirit went to hell, in the lowest depths
Did He show and tell ' many beleived and hastened to His side ' He ascended with them to our Father, the Word holds
No lies.' And then great power filled that room all of a sudden a light Intense, etched His form into those sheets.'
There is blood that has been traced and Its living still.' So We hear now my people a great light shone, enough power To shake the earth through the bedrock shows, and so now on to this one' His photo was taken, how typical said the athiest yet His Father
Could have had no camera..' As they were not invented
I hope my point is well taken.?
starlink satellites
amid the heavenly bloom —
cosmic photobomb
Phlox of purple field, Bill's
photographing hidden
Phoebe, favorite bird.
Phased by nothing else, like
Pheasant flying up, he
photographs Phoebes. Next
Phalaropes, wading birds.
Fantastic hair
Captured by lens
To each their own.
A Photograph
The ‘click!’ of a camera echoes in the room,
To hear that sound is a heavenly boon!
It may not seem, but hear it this way,
You just captured life in a moment’s play,
With the click of a button, a smile on the face,
You hold art in your hand at a second’s pace,
To revisit your memories is so nostalgic,
What else would you call this but magic?
Past joys bring a strange delight,
Taking reality to a different height,
A camera is a craft of wonder,
But a photograph is a memory to remember!
- Indrani A. Deo
cardinals singing
regal red merrymaking ~
priceless photo spread
They say a picture Is worth a 1000 words?
A picture is multiple complex ideas that can be conveyed by single still images,
However, a picture does not capture someone's inner essence or uncover ones hidden encryptions, it has limits.
Like I cannot smell your scent through a still image, or see that glint, that sparkle in your eyes,
It doesn't talk to me like you did, or laugh with me like you did, or even at me like you did, many times,
I can't hear your voice through a picture, it's just pixelated colour of memories, good, old, past, times,
But it doesn't capture a true uninstructed smile you'd give a real smile from ear to ear from time to time,
It doesn't capture the little unprovoked annoyingly annoying things you'd do little things that just made you, you
A picture may well be worth 1000 wonderouse words but I'd trade every single one to see you the whole of you.
Even if it was for just one last time, and I'd snap a selfie still because if I can't have you a picture will just have to do.
silent cameras
tell community stories…
trained observers
I have a lens
Framing segments
Of a world
That moves me
Creating an artificial pause
As if to make it stop
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