Nature in Black & White

Recently in the last few weeks while taking photos, I’ve been experimenting with editing them in black and white, or greyscale, which is something a bit different for me. I usually keep my nature photos in colour, because black and white can make some parts of a busy nature scene slightly indistinguishable, but I think…

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On writing a poem every day

I think I’ve maybe learned more from this experience ending than I did during the actual writing. Now I’m reflecting rather than being caught up in it and I’ve realised the importance in making time for myself that isn’t just mindlessly watching Netflix or YouTube. So, this is something I’m going to try and make an effort to incorporate into my life, because I think it has an impact for the better.

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Photos of the Ocean

I recently went to the beach armed with my camera and tripod to try and capture the ocean in a different way, and here is a gallery of a couple of my favourite pictures! I took them using a long exposure so it really captured a beautiful movement and I love how the waves look like clouds. I’ll definitely be doing this again.

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Fleeting Flowers – A poem

Even the pinkest pinks will fade
Eventually, perhaps to a dusty rose,
The open becomes closed, even
The prettiest flower will cease to glow.

Bold days turn to cold days, even the smoothest
Petals fold, soon brown replaces gold,
A shrivelled insignificance falls to the dirt,
But leaves space for a new bud to grow.

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Squeaky Clean – A poem

Immersed in bubble bath scents
And sensations, I breathe,
I breathe, I breathe deeply,
And the water softens my skin
And the warmth softens my mind.
In with fresh oxygen and out with
A build up of grime.

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All eyes but my own – A poem

a rusted reflection,
speckled and smudged

to wipe away is only
to smear the picture

a sun-bright ghost
in a hazy window

obscured by the dusty
remnants of raindrops

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The state of it all – A poem

we stumble home through
dully lamp lit streets at 1 am
hand in hand with wobbly feet
cool night air cleansing fuzzy heads,

sometimes we sit on the edge of
the world (or it feels like it),
the city glitters, it’s colourful
even in the darkness,

window glows and street lamps
are mere scintillas of light
trying to mirror the stars,
and if they look small, then what am I?

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A pink skirt with golden stars – A poem

a soft silky mesh with glittery golden stars,
pale pink, it draped to my touch,
it cut crisply with the scissors and suddenly
I was a girl again,
twirling in my princess skirt –
my own soft pale pink mesh with glittery golden stars

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Another sleepless full moon – A poem

I can never sleep when the moon is full
Sometimes I wonder if part of me is wolf.
Maybe just a bud of wolf’s-heart that could
Flower if I let it, or maybe it’s a key in a lock
That I just need to turn to let the wolf in.

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Can the truth be a lie? – A poem

A candle tells of air that never smelled so sweet,
And perfume plants fragrant flowers on my skin,
But with candied scents, she’s a liar, liar.

Reflection flips perception, I’ll never know
What your eyes see, my distorted vision vignetted
By my trust in a piece of glass, inevitably a liar, liar.

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