pictures

Day 1004, a dream by my side.

Day's pictures, Poetry

Day 1004-1.jpg

The need to be alone together with no one and so close to belong somewhere single and go my own way of love for the one outside my reach out to myself at night lying there in my memory with love from the past that was good to hold out with no breath in my neck I can turn and go to the one that I love and learn to hate this being alone i sometimes cry for no reason i feel great walking proud my own way and I see those eyes shooting lightning in my heard burning pain and pleasure all at once in my days single and never alone going up while falling on my knees kissing feet pulling strings in my brain to maintain my own smile alive to get one inside this life I betray my own pride and still go the road that I so much like and also need is what I tell when I lie awake alone the nights before I fall asleep together with a dream by my side.

Day 1000, to take.

Day's pictures, Poetry

Day 1000.jpg

A thousand days ago.

When springs sun revealed.

The air was new and bright light…

The road to home was changed.

A sharper world was there to take.

Nochrisis

This is the first picture I took a thousand days ago when I started the challenge to post at least one picture a day on my own blog. Not just a picture or selfie, but one where I have put some work and thoughts in. I did this in the first place to motivate myself to do something with my so-called biggest hobby, a hobby I was neglecting for many years.

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Day 878, spoon.

Day's pictures, Haiku, Philosophy, Poetry

Day 878-1

New life sprouts and sees

 a vast maze and little sun

a view looking back.

 

 

What is it that defines us?

Or, what is “us”? Are we not all formed by our surrounding? Is it not our parents, school, city and country that forms us? Don’t we speak the language of our neighbors and follow their customs?

Or would you be the same person if you were born in a different time and place? Is their a soul that contains our personality?

I ask these questions because I hear people often claim that their way of doing things is the best way and sometimes even that it is the only way. How can you claim that your way is the right way if it is spoon-fed to you? Can they not imagine that the other side has contradicting ideas because they are raised in a world where their ideas where spoon-fed to them and thus prevalent?

My conclusion for now is that it is hard for us human beings to live in constant doubt about our own identity where we constantly ask ourselfs if our opinion is given to us or is somehow original.

The world is ruled by people that claim that they know, but we all know that they don’t. Is humankind still in its adolescent face?

Day 877, seen.

Day's pictures, Haiku, Poetry

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.