Posts Tagged poetry

transformation

This is something I wrote specifically for Hallowe’en some time ago, but I think it was really something else trying to get out… do you ever put on a mask when things are not going well, pretend that they are so it’s a bit easier to get through the day and,

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Sometimes I think I think too much

What a wonderful day… this year I spent Valentine’s Day in an all day meeting at the Arc Hotel with 10 women that I have the privilege of working with, and yes I was the only guy! It was an annual meeting of the “communications team” on a project I’ve

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hidden in the windmills of my mind

you turned on the light and ignited the flame and I saw colour in a black and white world the glint of a diamond on a glass horizon then darkness fell… and two ships passed. ©2006 Julian Photo: hidden in the windmills of my mind A photo taken a year

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Sometimes I think I think too much…

I took this photo this morning, seeing the pool through the pouring rain I decided against going for a swim as I didn’t want to get wet. I laughed at the oxymoron my own thoughts can create… and my thoughts just took off from there… do you ever try to

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Ode to my Window Cleaner

Hey!! Mr. Window Cleaner… Thank you… for dropping in… I uh, well… I wasn’t expecting you… to be hanging there… outside my window… so early… Let me… uhhh, Let me go… put on some clothes…. I can see clearly now, the rain is gone, I can see all obstacles in

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Where do you want to be?

I had an after thought about this piece, a clarification if you will… Sometimes a place is physical, and sometimes metaphysical! Just sayin’. Sometimes there are places you want to go, and places that you want to be… Maybe you’ve been there before, and maybe it didn’t work out…. Or

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A one way door

There’s a park across the street from me called Judge Park, I sometimes pass through when going for a walk. One day just after the Victoria Day weekend, while trying to clear my head of too too many negative thoughts, I grabbed my camera and went for a walk, this

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Chapters

The books are on the shelf, endless Chapters… of confusion. And pages…  pages of words… Broken promises, Shattered… cast aside. The writing, is on the floor, a happy ending, torn from a book. Too many photographs, and all I can see is the imperfection, in their perfection. I can no longer

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Hangin’ (a distraction)

the Universe plays an infinite loop of thoughts, memories, flashbacks, dejavu, and double whammies… the track marks on my arm are in my head, an infliction of my own addiction, freedom in chains, and the number is 7! If only this addiction came with a high we could fly away….

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freedom in chains

freedom in chains I’ve been doing a lot of thinking of late about freedom, and coincidentally this image passed in front of my lens while shooting something else…. What is freedom and who decides? If we are physically chained and repressed, then it is the repressor who decides. But if

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