Across the Fields across those fields a fire burned seems like yesterday flames licked down right to the edge of her green fields purification fires from not so long ago we didn't realise flames would go so far i saw the lightning strike the mountain top saw the first tree flare watched flames spread sweeping across driven by a south wind leaping from summit to summit (northwards) driving wildlife ahead of horrible racing flames
Author: murray robertson
I make photos to make myself feel good; I share in hope of making you feel good. I do as much as I can in the camera, but it does not always end there.
Part of making an image in the 21st century is processing a captured image in the computer. This is like dodging and burning in the darkroom of yesterday. (I've done that too.)
I use Photoshop cc and Lightroom cc. The result is not always what I saw, sometimes more what I wish I saw. Sometimes, the resulting image is a creation more than a recording. Most of the time, I keep it believable and realistic.
I have a Bachelor's degree in Creative Writing.
I have shared poems on the internet, to an audience with more than 150 million views and I'm considering making a selection of poems, in a book or books.
Pink Hydrangeas
Pink Hydrangeas proof of alkaline soil nothing more besides overnight temperatures plummet castastrophically (so they want to say) they say climate could be worse than it already is but we know everything follows rules (except us) try arguing with a three year old about rules and goodness or an eighty year old they do not listen they live by other rules blue flowers occur with acidic soil influence and indication things are never quite the same as last time
Forgotten Dreams
Forgotten Dreams as i drive the highway i see remnants of a past i think this was a road that people drove on all those years ago and built their homes alongside to be close people crave people and need others near they built beside that road planted good vegetables planted lovely flowers lilac bushes make it homey just outside their door all those lilac bushes stayed families grew and moved those houses fell or burnt the gardens disappeared lilacs are drought resistant needing very little water they survived without care all those missing people and their fondest dreams are now forgotten all that's left are lilacs
Water’s Edge
Water's Edge far above the water's edge we stand and take it in above the seabirds and all the tiny distant people (like ants from up above) from up above the birds from far above so far away we cannot hear their words waves strike white sand we cannot see them there here we are here we stand on the edge on compact sand looking down at tree tops standing near a cliff shifting sand on which we stand we know we cannot trust the ground it is not solid is not sound we are looking in around the edges trying to see what's real from this high viewpoint though we are so far away we can see so much but see few details and understand so little
Heart of the Lily
Heart of the Lily the heart of the lily is an exotic place you see it every time you look (you can see) freckles on bright cheeks imagine it glowing in warm evening sunshine freckles could shock you beautiful brown freckles the heart of a human far from beautiful freckles (though some people lucky enough to have them) always different from beautiful lilies (sitting on a store shelf) something to cheer the sick or make a show of tender feeling (in case that someone needs to know)
Bright Yellow Dahlias
Bright Yellow Dahlias infallible sign of spring it's only january now days too short nights cold winter's grip is very strong it has us by our throats (but we can and will hope) we've seen such springs in our amazing lives spring follows winter every time in memory we expect spring will come back (green lion) out of season flowers in the grocery store remind us we are impatiently waiting bright images excite dahlias are summer celebrations (we can't always wait for)
Gnomes on Lace
Gnomes on Lace faked photos of fairies in the garden (realistic) tales (untrue) about a strange world of faked fairies in the garden (how they swore it was truth) they were believed (there were their photos to prove it was true) he's been modelling charming gnomes for years selling them at craft shows i got them in my camera though not in my garden dear old girl (sweetie) has always loved them though their reality may be different (they exist might have their own kind of life somehow) they do not live in our garden (but in a bed of moss, on a crystal dish on a lace tablecloth) where she loves to see them
Early Narcissus
Early Narcissus he lies on his belly watching the reflection of a most beautiful (creature like he's never seen before) face in a pool (a little like his father) but there he is (entranced) speechless and captive locked in a trance gods have little pity for men who worship themselves nemesis didn't like him falling in love with the boy's reflection in the pond he was from boetia (so the stories say) a hunter hunting for food when he became thirsty and saw a reflecting pool of water unable to move until he died (then it was too late) gods changed him into a flower (a nodding long bell as if looking downwards forever into a reflecting pool) when will we learn (not to worship ourselves our twisted reflections)
Broken Branches
Broken Branches most of what we know everything we see (something obscured no words will say) broken willow branches screen our blurred vision what is real we want to see (willows screen our view) broken branches in the mud roots hold it all together before willow leaves bud before springtime comes existing branches already for new springtime growth on the tired old wood (looks like it would be brittle) snapped off in its prime munched by hungry deer through the icy winter they have winter enzymes to help digest willow twigs willows make a ragged screen obscuring the scenery
Lily and Her Friends
Lily and Her Friends she is such a beauty colour you never saw in your life before bright as a shiny penny she lit up when she smiled (like a room where she was) surrounded by beauty (she still stands out) a lily and her friends make a fine bouquet (freckles on her face) lily features beauty her friends don't speak about her any more it seems she was cut off from her loving family her life shortened separated from her roots uncertainty is truth true wisdom begins when you realise you know nothing important and never will