Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic
Photography Without Rules
Mists of Peace
Cresting the ridge
Our valley now exposed
Morning sun broke free
From its chains
Illuminating the moon
The brief friendship
Destined mathematically
Exploding flashes of grandeur
Calm befell the valley
The mists of peace
Had prevailed
Captured willingly
By the hearts of all
In her presence
I know we can do better
It was a dream
Was it not?
Or, perhaps the mind slipping
Into wishes and whims
Consciousness
On every side
Questioning
Reality
Transformed,
I floated away
With the wind
Unencumbered,
Fearless.
A bird in the hand
Could be messy
But still
Better than two in the bush
Three birds
In a tree
Is a hat trick
Although
I’m not sure when
Or where the hat came in
To do his part
More than ever
When men act like animals
Looking to stifle love.
Trying to stamp out peace…
Anything with beauty.
Those who stand tall behind the bullet
Behind the cloak of hatred
Whose end is useless
Having never once
Fed a poor soul
Or stooped to calm a crying child
Out of love
Out of love
They are forever lacking
Dying in their own waste
Never
Never
Have ever
Made anything better
This photography drug thing.
Especially with in-camera multiple exposures. It becomes a game of cat and mouse.
With lilting light and shadow. Changes, continual changes.
The spark for a new composition. Shadow of a mountain, reflected light off the lake.
Maybe some long exposure blur.
Insanity… beautiful, chaotic, reorganized insanity
Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic 