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Margaret Sturgess
{K:49403} 1/25/2005
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Lovely image, [with it's grey tones] lovely poem, the benches - not quite in step with one another - but not too far apart!!!!
Margaret
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Patrick Ziegler
{K:21797} 1/25/2005
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Wow.. This is very good. I can feel the crisp fall air and here the leaves as they blow about. And a sturdy bench to sit and relax...
Great photograph!
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Trish McCoy
{K:15897} 1/24/2005
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gorgeous tones. and so peaceful. love it.
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Fabrizio Fiorucci
{K:4871} 1/24/2005
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Tumbling curls of green by stainglass streaming light
And a yellow coloured lampshade used to keep us up all night
And the smile upon her face, the tears upon your cheek
And the night sky on the window
Your heart calling out to me.
Come running home again, Katie
Come running home again
Cross my heart and hope to die
Shall I cause another tear from your eye
The mirror that won't talk and your nightgown on the door
And the old pedal Singer just don't sing no more
You can roll the reels for hours
From the movie of this book
It's a question mark on this heart of mine
sends an elder back to look.
Now I'm looking through a tunnel
Back into the room
With the genius of a druid when the sunlight floods the tomb
And I'm never going back there, and I couldn't anyway
'Cause though I made the great escape
I never got away.
-- "Katie", by Mary Black
Your benches... I love them!
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John Loreaux
{K:86210} 1/24/2005
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Beautiful tones Dottie!I really like shots like this!
Well done!
Hope You are keeping warm!
The poem is Wonderful!!!!!
Take care.................JOHN
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Dave Stacey
{K:150877} 1/23/2005
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Nice composition and toning, Dottie! I like your catch of the shadows on the bench, too.
Dave.
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Dorothy Di Liddo
{K:13787} 1/23/2005
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Kevin, if you read the end of the poem, you'll see that you are not far off. Relationships are very tough. Mostly because men are emotionally challenged. lol I love these lonely benches. I think they talk directly to a person's soul. (now I may be reading too much into it.) Thanks for looking & commenting. Dottie
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Kevin Collier
{K:19076} 1/23/2005
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Beautiful image - what strikes me is the inability or possibly reluctance of these two benches to join as one - relationships are that way to - to me this is a metaphor of the relationships that many are involved in - sorry if I read too much into it. K
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Teunis Haveman
{K:53426} 1/23/2005
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Dotie, beautiful shot in this season
Great kind of words and poezie
I like also the for seasons
When I was in the North of Brasil, there have you no seasons like in the Netherland.
I like everytime the other clouds in teh seasons , the sunrise and sunsets, snow, rain,wind,storm ect. I like the colours of the Spring in the nature and in the summer,autumn and winter
Have an good sunday
Teunis
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Jeanette Hägglund
{K:59855} 1/23/2005
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Nice autumn image with those bench?s...
Jeanette
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Rebecca Raybon
{K:26654} 1/23/2005
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It is very much like that one! I was asleep, but got up to assist someone, and now I'm having some tea and a cigarette, and considering a snack. Thought I'd use this time to attempt to catch up on some long overdue comments.
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Dorothy Di Liddo
{K:13787} 1/23/2005
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So what are you doing up so dang gone late Missy! That pic also reminds me of this one from way back when.
http://www.usefilm.com/image/602865.html
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Rebecca Raybon
{K:26654} 1/23/2005
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Lovely image. Very nice angle and tones. We see things in the same way many times. I'm attaching an image I took Friday, when I had my camera with me at Viginia Baptist.
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Jim Loy
{K:31693} 1/23/2005
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Oh boy... Frost once said, "Writing free verse poetry is like playing tennis without a net. Overcoming the obstacles is all."
(It is paraphrased a bit)
One of my favorite Frost poems, if I may...
THE WOOD-PILE
Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day
I paused and said, 'I will turn back from here.
No, I will go on farther- and we shall see'.
The hard snow held me, save where now and then
One foot went through. The view was all in lines
Straight up and down of tail slim trees
Too much alike to mark or name a place by
So as to say for certain I was here
Or somewhere else: I was just far from home.
A small bird flew before me. He was careful
To put a tree between us when he lighted,
And say no word to tell me who he was
Who was so foolish as to think what he thought.
He thought that I was after him for a feather-
The white one in his tail; like one who takes
Everything said as personal to himself.
One flight out sideways would have undeceived him.
And then there was a pile of wood for which
I forgot him and let his little fear
Carry him off the way I might have gone,
Without so much as wishing him good-night.
He went behind it to make his last stand.
It was a cord of maple, cut and split
And piled- and measured, four by four by eight.
And not another like it could I see.
No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it.
And it was older sure than this year's cutting,
Or even last year's or the year's before.
The wood was gray and the bark warping off it
And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis
Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle.
What held it though on one side was a tree
Still growing, and on one a stake and prop,
These latter about to fall. I thought that only
Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks
Could so forget his handiwork on which
He spent himself the labor of his axe,
And leave it there far from a useful fireplace
To warm the frozen swamp as best it could
With the slow smokeless burning of decay.
All good stuff, DD. More people should read Frost. He was wonderful.
JIL
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Alison Webb
{K:1779} 1/23/2005
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Very nice shot Dottie.
Al.
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