I love to take photographs and write poetry. Sweet. Steve 🙂 Fractured. A poem. A filigree of cracks, wrinkles Upon your desiccated face Washed clean with weary salt And wind and watery grace. Your sad song that breaks This familiar … Continue reading Upstart Photographer – Fractured
Photography & Poetry – P&P for all the RPG fans lol 😊 Cheers Steve 🙂 Detritus. A poem. Cast ashore by storied seas A mishmash of memories And undefinable surprises From the ocean’s turned out pockets A lost and found … Continue reading Upstart Photographer – Detritus
Photography, poetry – why not, I say? 😊 Cheers Steve Beach Morning. A poem. Rainbowed cloud and Circuitous seas Casting ancient wisdom Like dice upon the shore For more Poetry, click here. For more of my poetry, check out Poetry … Continue reading Upstart Photographer – Beach Morning
Poetry and photography, live together in perfect harmony (to paraphrase Paul McCartney). Cheers Steve 🙂 Knighted Tree Armoured and encrusted Barnacled and salted Prepared to joust For your ocean’s honour Your everlasting foe The ever-shifting shore For more Upstart Photographer, … Continue reading Upstart Photographer – Knighted Tree
Hand in hand, across a billion pebbled seeds. A heat frisson murmuring beneath our feet. Foaming cerulean paints the shore in shadow, while white light turns supple skin scarlet and melts concerns away. For more of my poetry, check out … Continue reading Beach Birthday. A poem.
Another photo. Another poem. Cheers Steve 🙂 Lighthouse. A poem. A hollow betrayal; you were pushed aside and swept under the rug of failing and fatalistic light (what irony, it seems). A ship’s memory is short; they no longer need … Continue reading Upstart Photographer: Things#5
I like to write poems. I like to take photographs. Sometimes I take photos of things. Here’s one, with an accompanying poem. I don’t normally write poems about things, but for my photos I can make an exception. Cheers Steve … Continue reading Upstart Photographer: Things #3
I long for the sea, to feel the bright whispers of the surf and salt between my toes, the sand crumbling beneath my feet. I long to float in her, to move my restless shell along her graceful curves, to … Continue reading Sea of Love. A poem.
Here’s a response I did for Uni. You might like to try the exercise out yourself. Cheers Steve 😊 Write a haiku (formal style) on the theme of water and then write a free verse piece (of no more than … Continue reading An Exercise in Poetic Styles
Dewdrops on my skin as I rise from your embrace. Your satin caress beckons and I return to your verge. Each twist and turn I take moves me closer to apogee, whence all efforts expire. Here within your tidal girth, … Continue reading Swim. A poem.
Driftwood, floating on percolating tides. Saltwater soaks fossil branches. Sand embraces nooks and crannies. Driftwood, meandering, awaiting a tactile, tacit end. Longing for a final, lasting beach head. The All or the Nothing is my first book of poetry, and … Continue reading Driftwood (Beached, part 3). A poem.
Tri-fin cutting foaming swathes in majestic, molten, crashing waves. Off-shore wind: the only stakes, paddling out to meet the break. To take his certain place in line, for the weaving surf to redefine. To forge a newborn legend free, the … Continue reading The Board (Beached, part 2).
The wild surf, like his impetuous heart, pounds and beats the sandy shore, like a pugilist with vanity to spare. Here the relentless, crashing waves make their mark in odd time signatures, in fluid and passionate syncopation, a symphony of … Continue reading The Wild Surf (Beached, part 1). A poem.
Hulls of broken ships, scattered like white noise. The sea bed, as black as a charcoal cellar. It welcomes sailors to their ends, bloated corpses sleeping in hammocks of crusted ribs, drunk on briny, antique wine. Coral wreaths and sawdust mouths; barnacles, the new tattoo that marks the passage from man to martyr. Here among the starfish and crustacean shells, unworried by the weather, seabed tales in whale song punctuate their empty dreams. Continue reading Dead Men Deep. A poem.
The angry tide The beach swept clean Refuse returned to the slumber of the sea The frozen snows Such bitter cold Ground disguised, glistening winter freeze The haunted house All empty rooms Cavities and mouldings hold mysteries The ocean ship Pitches, rolls away The storm that blows onward drunkenly All these things Broil and seethe In relentless dreams I drown, I scream I dream about all sorts of stuff. I know you do too. Care to share? Continue reading Scream. A Poem Of Dreams.
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