B&W (& 1 C)


Everyone’s doing this black and white photography challenge…no people, no explanation. Well…I kinda hate rules, but I mostly stuck with it. 

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Tears Don’t Fall

Tears don’t fall

In outer space

They stay pooled

Against one’s face

I will fly there

To seek escape

Gather saline

In a jar…

But I dare say:

It won’t be large

Enough for tears

I’ll expect to cry

For my fate, when

I realize just

How far away

I had to soar

To see me…free

A specimen

You kept

Wings clipped

Habitat restricted

In form and function

Pinned to your bulletin board

Studied and displayed

Until one day

I broke the glass

With a scream

Echoing into

My future dream

In a cold vacuum

Unreachable by all

Save for my own heart

And a salty mason jar

~ Emily C.

10.8.17

Ash

the wind arrives with a familiar fury
she wonders whether or not to bury
her head, heavy still with last year’s
seasons — fireplace and smoke,
pores choked in acrid pain that won’t
wipe clean, just smears like tears
on skin that used to rebound,
resilient as a rubber band, now
snaps. awakened by the sound
of herself coming to. the truth.
and no way around it. but through
another season she goes, brave
like an iron poker in the fire
of time. she radiates attraction.
a mesmerizing glow. pretty to look.
but don’t touch. her heat will burn you.
the wind’s fury pulls her smoke up,
curls her exhausted air, like the hookah
the caterpillar tokes.
her ‘help’ rises from her cold ash,
disperses on the wind reminding her
who’s in charge — dear girl, not you.
not you.

 

~ Emily C.

10.6.17

Poisoned Dreams

your chest was once my pillow
your heart my poisoned dreams
the driving rain on the window
my tears echoed in their grief

a stroke of hand feels for flesh
reveals illusion in night’s death
a nothingness in place of you
a vacant cold my hands caressed

your image stirs behind tired lids
your name froths on tip of tongue
drifting to unconsciousness
toxic dreams of hope, my bane

to wake, to sleep, matters not
either realm reminds me
you left your crumbs of memories
dried bits of love left molding

o, slip me wine, a bottle or two
numb this aching heart
how can one escape a ghost
when he’s in every thought

 

~ Emily C.

10.4.17

Haiku

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Color catches eye

Autumn takes center stage now

Slipping summer’s grip

 

~ Emily C.

10.4.17

 

***

 

All photography mine. Took my Rebel to the lake today for some “real” photography, in part inspired by Meg’s earlier post. I had been neglecting my camera camera. Beautiful day for it.

And of course, there would be a flamenco couple dressed to the hilt having their professional photography done on the dock. Stunning garb and so beautiful when she spun her skirt.