Day 877, seen.

Day 877-1

waterfalls silent

scene from a distend valley

a hand in moist grass.

 

Confession.

I like writing poetry, but I have no clue what I am doing. The only judge is in my head and in that sense it’s a pure self-centered creation.

Within photography there are certain rules, and I tell myself that I know those rules even when I go more “artsy” where the line between just a picture and art is thin and open for endless discussions.

With poetry I have no boundaries besides that it must “feel” nice or that it must fit within a few unconscious grammatical rules. It’s a story in my head that gets realized whilst writing and juggling with words. If the words tell the story that was created simultaneously I smile, read it one more time and go on. It’s not an act or a thing I do, it just happens like any other creative process.

Because it’s not a skill I learned like carpentry I cannot judge myself, I have to rely on the judgment of others, a teacher and that’s difficult.

There are only a few good teachers and many more students that think they can teach. The chance I meet on is small, that I would recognize him or her is even smaller.

4 thoughts on “Day 877, seen.

Add yours

  1. so far you doing perfectly the photos which don’t straight show what it is and the words who don’t tell but rather say what it could be

    Like

    1. Thank you, I appreciate it coming from you. I still like to do it for the mental exercise and every now and then someone calls from out of the desert letting me know it doesn’t all disappear into thin air 😉

      Like

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