Photography 101 – Day 9 – Warmth by Candle Light


Warmth can be appreciated by anyone and any living creature. We all search for something to keep us warm and/or give us light at one time or another. Think about puppies and kittens or baby animals of any kind who pile on top of each other and burrow underneath one another just to be warm.

A candle as I showed in my day 1 picture can represent a sense of home but also radiate that sense of warmth that home gives. Home is hearth and fire as I said. And in this picture the candle is lit showing a fantastic sense of warmth and adding that to a sense of home and togetherness.

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Photography – Day 8 – Outside: The Blooming Flower


Outside the sunshine makes us grow.
And we see in nature the growth of ourselves.
Many a person will see the brightness of the flowers.
The bee stung kisses that glow.
And in the beauty of leaf and petal
We find nature of a stronger metal.
The flying of the pollon, and growth of everything.
The strength of nature year after year.
The calling of a child to touch the vivid red-orange growth.
Or of the dog to burrow his nose in scent
The callous clipping of the flower.
To float upon a sugared water, inside a dense clay bowl
Or the rightness to let the flower blossom and explode.

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Exhaustion my Enemy – Poetry


The heavy breath from my chest, the half cast eyes with droopy lids.
The dark circles beneath eyes that only ache for rest;
This is called exhaustion.
The sallow cheeks and dizziness, the world takes on my glazed expression.
And though I fight to stay awake, my aching orbs cannot manage the pain.
Lift them once, until at last they fall;
This is called exhaustion
Laboured air, and bones laid thickly to the bed.
A stillness in the room, the might that could be slumbers.
And though I’ll try to arise;
This is called exhaustion.
Waking up in mid morning, tossing, turning, without warning.
A heavy crash of lid to lid, the fluidity of blinking gone.
When waves of sleepiness flutter through you;
This is called exhaustion.
A limb I cannot lift. No leg, no arm, no neck.
An effort just to to breath deeply and relax, to calm the nerves the day has wrought.
A simple pleading just to fall asleep;
This is called exhaustion.

A mother wakes, she cannot sink, into the depth of dreamland.
A baby cries, he wants something now, the mother weeps.
This is called exhaustion.
A days labour never done, shovel by shovel, he digs that ditch.
His muscles smell of rubbing gel, the kind that relieves body aches.
Hurting just to sit down;
This is called exhaustion.
The mind thinks wonders until it stops, a headache starts and bangs until eyes close,
A momentary lapse, there’s still a day to go;
This is called exhaustion.
Lying awake, all night long, slumber cries for me to not deprive
And though I beg, in agony, swift and long lasting.
I’ll stay awake the whole night through;
This is called exhaustion.
An old man stands at deaths great door, he knows it’s coming.
He hears it’s call in every painful breath, in every cramping of his heart
As he strives to live, he wishes greener pastures would call;
This is called exhaustion.

A population begging for replete, a rest, a sleep, to wake up fully functioning.
There all so quiet as they moan and beg for dreams to tumble on them all
A slumber so deep, you’ll only awake when the aching tiredness is gone,
This is called Exhaustion.