photography
weekly photo challenge: between
Gone down, I thought–
’til the moon emerged again
between clouds
~ Shua*
Visit The Daily Press @WordPress.Com to participate and/or view additional images submitted for this week’s photo challenge: between
*cited:
Haiku Before Haiku
Steven D Carter
weekly photo challenge: extra, extra
ripples on water
mingling with ships and masts
an ever-changing canvas
A reflection of the harbor along Toronto’s waterfront
Visit Dailypost@WordPress.com to view additional images submitted for this week’s challenge: extra, extra
silent sunday
weekly photo challenge: room
During a weekend drive on the back roads of eastern Wyoming, we found ourselves invited to wander about this abandoned home and ponder what dreams once filled these rooms.
Visit The Daily Post @Wordpress.com to view additional images submitted for this week’s challenge: “from the four walls that currently surround you to the infinite potential of space, this week we’d like you to show us your take on room, rooms, or a room.
weekly photo challenge: split-second story
My happiness
I find
In filling my emptiness.
My emptiness
I create
In seeking happiness.
~Gopal Honnalgere*
Visit The Daily Post @WordPress.com to view this week’s challenge: Split-Second Story…become “a documentary photographer and attempt to capture a candid moment of a person, place, or thing. Put your National Geographic hat on and tell a story by documenting a moment in time through a single image. Capture the thrill of a skate park, or the calmness of a café patio. Let your imagination inspire and guide you.”
cited:
fire in the sea
An Anthology of Poetry and Art
Sue Cowing
blooming…white
weekly photo challenge: twist
For cicada
the branches of a single tree
are a forest grove.
~Socho*
To view additional images submitted for this week’s photo challenge or to share an image that says “twist” to you visit: The Daily Post @Wordpress.com
*cited:
Haiku before Haiku
Steven Carter
springtime dandelions
…from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, taste and smell alone, more fragile but more enduring, more immaterial, more persistent, more faithful, remain poised a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unflinchingly, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.*
*cited:
In Search of Lost Time
Vol I
Swann’s Way
pp 59-60
Marcel Proust
Trans: C.K. Scott Moncrieff















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