Photography – Page 6 – M J Mallon YA Author and Poet

5 Photos – 5 days Challenge Day 3 – Wi Fi Red Phone Box Dating!!!

I am currently taking part in the 5 Photos – 5 days challenge after being nominated by Annika Perry from her blog: https://annikaperry.wordpress.com/

Here is my photo and writing for Day 3.

Well, when I saw this Red Wi-Fi box it took me back to the days of red phone boxes, and this kind of inspired this little piece of flash fiction:

WP_20150609_018 — https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

Wi-Fi Red Phone Box Dating.

Fifty, Fifty, Fifty, Fifty. Fifty. Five times, that’s enough. I don’t want to be reminded about my age. I’m going to the gym, hanging out in all the cool roof top vistas, and sipping gin and tonics in the sun. Who knows? I might even end up raving in a nightclub somewhere. I’m fascinated by this little red box. Apparently these used to be red phone boxes, how quaint! Nowadays these red boxes house Wi-Fi hot spots.

It’s tiny. Dark inside. There’s a light switch, click. If I touch this button I wonder what will happen? My hands tremble as my fingertips linger over the device. I give in to temptation. Oops, someone’s knocking on the door, wanting to come in and share my Wi-Fi dream. I wonder if I should let them in? What will he be like? If I don’t find him appealing can I lock him out with a key? Or would that be too cruel?

Then my babbling thoughts are thrust into a hasty retreat as I hear the sound of his voice.

“Hi, I’m Pete,” he says. I can’t see him yet but his voice is promising, nice.

“I’m Liz,” I reply.

“This is different,” says Pete, stepping into the box.

“Yes, it certainly is. Wi-Fi dating. A box of dreams,” I say smiling.

“It’s all new to me,” he says, but his eyes look away.

“Yeah, me too. The red box crew got it more or less right, the roof top vista, overlooking Cambridge city centre looks wicked, and I don’t mind a gym session, but I’m not too sure about the nightclub.”

“Maybe that’s an optional extra, you could opt to press shift?” replies Pete raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I may do. But maybe we should be adventurous,” I suggest waiting to see how he will react.

“Yes why not. I’m up for an adventure.”

I’m beginning to flirt. I remember the signs.

I like that a lot.

“And I’m treating you. I’ll pick up the tab,” replies Pete.

The word tab cuts it dead, and so does treating you. I’m not some sort of invalid. Two slices threaten the circuitry of the red box dream.

“There’s no need,” I reply my voice rising shrilly.

“Don’t worry I don’t possess that key, the one you’re worried about,” his eyes twinkle in amusement, flickers of blue, green, light.

I sigh. “That’s a relief, I wasn’t sure if all my requirements had been noted. How thoughtful of you to say.”

“It’s my pleasure,” his cute accent sends my mind reeling.

I forget all about the tab gaff.

A smile lights up my face as if I’ve pressed the page up and page down key and the smile doesn’t quite know where to stop. Where will it end? Which key will we end on? End, Home or Shift? At least I don’t have to worry about Control (Ctrl.) I don’t want anyone controlling me. No. Not after the last one, the one I had to delete. Fast.

There’s a pause in the conversation, the system’s doing an update. I wait until it’s finished and then I check him out. Boy, this updated verson ticks all my compulsory Wi-Fi boxes, and more. He’s tall, dark and handsome. Not short, pale, bald and pasty. No need to press the up arrow or the right, left key. His proportions are perfect. He’s got an enhanced smile too, even better than before and he isn’t a day over fifty. In fact he appears a lot younger. A lot, lot younger. Twenty years younger. He looks like he goes to the gym. Regularly. So my hands stay well away from the delete key.

“I hope you’re happy with the update?” asks Pete, breaking into my thoughts. He frowns a little as if he’s not sure if his asking is correct protocol.

“I am.” I find myself blushing.

His tee-shirt rides up a little, my eyes linger, on taut, well toned muscles. For a second or two I seem to have stopped breathing. I remember to breathe.

“Happy Birthday,” I say, with a grin, aware that if I don’t say something quickly my eyes will bore an exploratory hole through his tee-shirt.

“How did you know it was my birthday?” asks Pete.

I frown a little.

“It was a 50/50 chance I was right. These boxes are birthday dates sometimes.”

“Oh, yes I see. Silly me. The fifty slogan on the box, I’m being a bit dim,” says Pete, a flicker of anxiety crosses his face.

“No worries,” I say.

My frown melts. I can update again if need be, no cause for concern.

‘Happy Birthday to you too!”

“Thank you!” I reply with a smile.

“So you’re following the red box’s advice, no right clicks or left clicks? You’re going to the gym, then a drink in the rooftop bar, plus a night club?”

“Yes, might as well, let’s keep it simple. Would you care to join me Pete?”

“Yes lets, what a wonderful idea, I’d love to.”

Pete appears relieved, I notice his shoulders relaxing, a moment ago they seemed to be hitched up to his ears. I suppose he must have been worried that his birthday was about to be blown out, all fifty candles no longer flickering.

I press the escape key. He doesn’t sigh but I know from the expression on his face that he wants to. We leave the red box and step out into our date. I need a cool shot of alcohol, all this dating internet shenanigans makes me anxious. Who knows what may happen? But one things for certain, fifty is the new thirty. Maybe we might end up together in the love zone, or even find ourselves at home, no shift key required. Sweet.

© Marjorie Mallon 2015 – aka, Kyrosmagica.
Words good or bad, are my very own!

Article about converting red phone boxes to Wi-Fi spots: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/technology/3110726.stm

I hope you might want to join in the Challenge and if you do here are the rules:

‘Post a photo each day for five consecutive days, and tell a story about each photo. The story can be truth or fiction, poetry or prose. Each day one must also nominate a fellow blogger to participate in the challenge.’

Today I would like to nominate Julia at My Red Page: https://myredpage.wordpress.com/to take on this challenge, if she would like to.

I look forward to seeing her post.

Thanks for dropping by.

Kyrosmagica x

5 Photos – 5 days Challenge Day 2 – Kings College Sundial Clock Tower

I am currently taking part in the 5 Photos – 5 days challenge after being nominated by Annika Perry. Check out her blog at: https://annikaperry.wordpress.com/

Here is my photo and writing for Day 2.

I took this photograph one day while I was out in Cambridge, this sundial clock tower caught my eye. It’s part of King’s College, Cambridge.

WP_20150609_004 — https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

Sundial Clock Tower

“What time is it Mimi?” asked Elouise, taking off her cardigan, and stuffing it into her over flowing shopping bag. An abundance of art materials peeked out the top of the bag as if paints, brushes, soft pastel sets, sponges, and graphite pencils were about to escape. Elouise put on her sunglasses, and tucked her long blonde hair behind her ears.

Elouise glanced over at her friend Mimi who was looking up at the heavens as if she expected a response. The sundial clock tower of Kings College Cambridge was just within her line of sight. Elouise knew that Mimi had forgotten all about her question.

Mimi was transfixed, she often did this, just stopped, a paused film track.

Elouise didn’t bother to ask her again. Instead, she poked around in her handbag and pulled out her mobile.

“It’s lunchtime,” she announced.

Mimi still didn’t answer. It was obvious that she was in some private reverie and disturbing her would serve no purpose.

A man started chatting Mimi up, this wasn’t unusual, Elouise managed to hear his first words, not a very original opener. “Hi. It’s a beautiful sundial isn’t it? …..”

Elouise knew that was no way to get Mimi’s attention. A fog horn would be a better approach! Mimi’s good looks, her perfect figure, long dark hair, and tanned skin meant that she was often stopped in the street. Random strangers came up to ask her for her phone number. She could have been a model, except for one small detail, her height, she was a little on the short side. Mimi was petite in every sense of the word. If Elouise was to describe her she would say that her friend was a living artist’s portrait, a watercolour of exquisiteness, highlighted with brushstrokes of kindness.

Elouise knew that Mimi wouldn’t acknowledge the stranger. She was still stuck in pause zone, and there was no getting through to her while she was in that state.

The man continued in desperation, his words falling at her delicate ankles like tiny forgotten offerings.

Elouise turned her attention to a nice looking bunch of boys nearby, some foreign students, out for the day in Cambridge.

“What is that?” one of them asked, pointing at the clock tower.

“It’s a sundial clock tower,” replied Elouise.

‘Oh, it’s very fine.”

“Yes, it is. My friend certainly thinks so.”

‘Which college is it belong to?”

“King’s I think.”

“She’s like this often?” he asked gesturing towards Mimi with a grin. “She doesn’t seem to notice anything.”

Elouise sighed. “Yes often. She’ll come out of it soon. She’s in a private little time tunnel, eventually she’ll see the light at the end.”

The boy’s friends moved closer to him. They huddled behind him creating a shadow of shyness.

The boy laughed, his laughter chasing each of his friends’ individual shadows away.

“When she come out of it would you like to join us for a picnic. It’s a sunny day?” he asked.

The other boys stepped forward, “Yes please come.”

“Join us. We okay.”

Elouise was amused to see that the first boy pulled a face, and punched his friend on the shoulder. A friendly warning.

“We have baguettes and cheese, and drinks,” said one of the boys boldly breaking away from the scrum of uncertainty.

“Sorry, but no champagne,” said the first boy, with a wink.

Elouise smiled.

“What’s your names?”

“Bjorn,” the first boy answered.

“Erik.”

“Fredrik.”

“Maarten.”

“Hi Bjorn, Erik, Fredrik, and Maarten. I’m Elouise and my dreamy friend is Mimi. Where are you from?”

“Norway,” replied Bjorn.

At last Mimi turned away from the sundial and faced them. She appeared dazzled, as if she had been staring at the Northern Lights.

Elouise had to do something! Fast, anything to get Mimi back to the present, so she ditched her shopping bag on the ground. Some art supplies managed to escape the confines of the bag. The clatter of the paints woke Mimi up. Elouise hastily picked them up, before they tipped out onto the pavement, and painted an artist’s impression of Mimi’s expression. Mimi’s face registered the boys first, and then her friend. This was so Mimi! Elouise gave Mimi their special signal for fit boys with fair hair and blue eyes, a quick almost imperceptible, double wink.

Mimi smiled. Mimi’s warm smile melted Elouise’s worries away. She was back! Mimi the watercolour painting was living in the moment again!

“A picnic that sounds fun. It‘s lunchtime. Of course we’d love too! I’m starving. And thirsty! Let’s stop at a shop and get lots of sparkling wine. Nice to meet you Bjorn, Fredrik, Erik, Maarten.”

The brushstrokes of her words tumbled out of her like warming rays of sunshine, lighting up each and every face with a smile.

Elouise shook her head, this was so Mimi. Always caught up in the moment, but secretly listening, and planning a sparkling picnic comeback!

© Marjorie Mallon 2015 – aka, Kyrosmagica.
Words good or bad, are my very own!

A link to the Gates of Cambridge Colleges: http://gwydir.demon.co.uk/jo/walks/gates.htm#trinityb

If you’d like to join in the challenge, and I hope you do, the rules are as follows:

‘Post a photo each day for five consecutive days, and tell a story about each photo. The story can be truth or fiction, poetry or prose. Each day one must also nominate a fellow blogger to participate in the challenge.’

Today I would like to nominate my keen photographer friend Olivia at Wording on a Whim https://wordingonawhim.wordpress.com/ to take on this challenge.

I look forward to seeing her post.

Please do leave a comment. I love to hear from you.

Kyrosmagica x

Thanks for dropping by.

Five Photos Five Days Challenge Day 1- Lost Dreams, Drug Oblivian

I’m currently taking part in the 5 Photos – 5 days challenge after being nominated by Annika Perry – Annika Perry’s Writing blog.

I would highly recommend that you check out Annika’s blog.

Here’s the link : https://annikaperry.wordpress.com/

Firstly, the rules are as follows:

‘Post a photo each day for five consecutive days, and tell a story about each photo. The story can be truth or fiction, poetry or prose. Each day one must also nominate a fellow blogger to participate in the challenge.’

Here is my photo and writing for Day 1.

This is my photo of the one of the locked gates of Cambridge University. Somehow my photo of this beautiful gateway inspired me to write a very sad piece of flash fiction. The mind works in very mysterious ways, well mine does anyway! Forgive me for putting a dampener on such a beautiful setting.

WP_20150609_006 — https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

Lost Dreams

Heidi peered through the locked gate, in the distance she saw the neat manicured lawn, the suggestion of a life well lived. There was a brand new bike propped up against the wall facing away from the exit. Heidi wondered who the bike belonged to and why it had been abandoned by its owner. She sighed, climbed onto her own rusty bike and cycled away.

The next day she returned, but the bike was gone. Everything else was just as it had been before. Heidi stood by wistfully peering through the ornate bars. She saw a group of people coming towards the gate, a bunch of undergraduates no doubt. They opened the gate, and each of them seemed to individually register her presence with a quizzical glance. She wanted to stroll in, but she knew she couldn’t. If she did that would just make matters worse. They would see her as she was now, so she stayed outside the gate. Safe. Behind secure bars.

I know without any doubt that Heidi believed that she belonged within the walls of that forbidden garden. It wasn’t her fault, she’d say. Heidi’s downfall started at sixth form, everything started to slip. Leaving secondary school had seemed such a liberation to her but her departure should have come with a warning sticker. Beware: Sixth Form Can Seriously Screw You Up. To begin with the changes in Heidi were barely noticeable, but soon, the pressure built up. An outlet had to be found, a way for her to cope. She ended up at wild parties once a week, and when once a week wasn’t enough, every night became the norm. Then she started to experiment. Her motto became: it’s easy to anaesthetise yourself, pretend you’re okay, when you’re not. At first mum and dad didn’t notice but when her grades started to slip they woke up. Fast. Their perfect princess was no longer bringing home A’s the best she could do was a D, a D with drugs, dangerous boys, and doubtful friends.

Of course the inevitable happened Heidi missed classes, came in drunk, she got kicked out of sixth form. No second chances. Then mum and dad did what they had to. They couldn’t cope, the stealing did it. I tried so hard to help, believe me I did. We all did. I blame myself so much. We all do. Now Heidi’s lost. All her dreams are blossoming in that beautiful garden locked within sight but way out of her reach. She might be light fingered but she has no hope of stealing those dreams back. They’re gone forever. Who knows who she might have been? Where she might have gone? All she has now is dream words, I’ll be okay. A new false promise. Health Warning: Time To Fix Herself.

In my dreams I see my sister clearly. I picture envy. She’s leaning on that gate, but the gate isn’t supporting her. I see her ugly red marks, needle impressions and fingers shaking. She’s tugging at its unforgiving bars, raging, pulling them towards her. She doesn’t say a word but I can hear her pain, screaming. I can taste the loss in her throat like it is I who has swallowed the bitter pill of failure. I see her as she used to be, my perfect little sister, and I cry, cry because that is all I can do. That is all I am left with. That gate is always locked. The dream is never different. Her hope lies crippled, planted like a false seed in that immaculate, well kept garden. Many view that ornate gate as a walkway to fulfil their dreams but it bars Heidi entrance, and reminds her of her own prison cell. Life.

Today I would like to nominate two bloggers, rather than just one!

Lauren at https://courageisnotanoption.wordpress.com/

and Victoria Davenport at https://coffeewriterepeat.wordpress.com/

Thanks for dropping by.

Do pop by again soon, and leave a comment if you can, I’d love to hear from you.

Kyrosmagica xx

Hope – A Story in Words and Photography

WP_20150427_003 — A flame of thoughts https://www.kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

This week I am taking part in Jamie’s Week 17 Photo Challenge: Hope

Here’s the link to her blog: https://bluedaisyz.wordpress.com/

I found out about the weekly photo challenge via Melissa’s lovely blog The Aran Artisan: http://thearanartisan.com/

WP_20150427_001 — Lush promise https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

The photos are all taken by me in my local Country park which is looking particularly lovely at the moment, hope you enjoy them. Here’s the entrance that I use quite often, and below the photo is the beginning of my little story HOPE, inspired by these thought provoking images.

WP_20150427_004 — The open gateway a welcome or a mockery? https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

HOPE

The open gateway beckons like a warm welcome yet it sits in dappled shadows as if mocking me. My troubled thoughts are silent, yet the voice of my heart pounds, a flurry of quiet spasms grips my chest, tightening with each breath that I take. The lunchtime joggers run past, hard and fast, unaware that my breathing is competing with the pace of their laboured breaths in an unacknowledged contest.

WP_20150427_007 — Candy Floss Clouds https://www.kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

I reach the first tiny viewing platform. The fluffy clouds float by on a gentle breeze as if trying to reassure me, doing their best to alleviate my earlier anxiety. The reflection of their inverted shapes slip into the water, a childlike candy floss creation, of delicate hope lifting my rising fear.

WP_20150427_010 — The trap https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

Then as I progress further, a darkened branch lays in wait for the unsuspecting visitor, threatening the tranquil scene. It claws reach out, a trap ready to close around its poor, unfortunate, next victim. It refuses to touch the man-made lake, nor does it rest, or disturb the seamless surface of the water. It is as if the trap-like branch is independent of any control.

WP_20150427_012 — Iceberg clouds https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

The fluffy clouds now look like iceberg reflections, but even this does not seem likely, as lush green pond vegetation escape the water’s surface near them, promising a possibility, the likelihood of fresh hope. To my left I see a fragile, flowering branch.

WP_20150427_013 — Blue promise https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

I turn a corner and the cloud all but disappears, the sky so blue, and the scene so tranquil that I gasp in surprise.

I walk on by and find that I had been too hasty, I have been tricked, the clouds refuse to let me go. The dark approaching shadow clings to the right of my viewpoint, joining in with the clouds refusal, a reminder that all has not yet been spoken.

It stretches its shadowy fingers into my pathway creating a dappled carpet to guide me but I stand back, hesitating.

WP_20150427_017 — Clouds like frightened suggestions https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

The clouds begin to spill into the water once again, their substance lost in their liquid home, they disperse like frightened suggestions. I stare at my phone as if it is an enemy. For a moment I am tempted to drop the phone into the water, to let it sink, so I do not have to confront this moment, but instead I clutch the phone to me and continue on my way.

WP_20150427_027 — The sensory garden’s blue handkerchief. https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

I catch the sweet smell of flowers drifting from the sensory garden. Their aroma is light, almost imperceptible. Snatches of blue sky peek out amongst the blooms, like stolen handkerchiefs, waving, waiting for a conclusion. I continue to the Visitor’s centre, a haven full of thirsty, hungry strangers, unconcerned, and unaware, of my rising anxiety.

WP_20150427_022 — the noughts and crosses of uncertain shadows https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

The stairs leading up to the viewing point are marred with the noughts and crosses of uncertain shadows, but no matter they are only playing a game to confuse me.

WP_20150427_024 — The pink and white clouds of hope https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

Then and only then do I become aware of the full view of the lake. It comes to greet me with a panorama of endless hope. Its pink and white fluffy clouds smile, reassuring me that I am not to worry, all will be well. At last, I have the courage to type in the number. It rings, and rings, and then at last my mother answers. She is not expecting me to ring right now. She tells me about her hospital appointment, “Yes, it is not the worst news, but it is not the best, I will need an operation, but thankfully my bloods do not suggest cancer.” The relief floods through me, like a thunderous waterfall, tempered by my disquiet at the word, surgery. I relax a little as I hear her next words. “The doctor asked me if I would mind having students present at the operation.” I hear a faint smile in her voice as she says, “How was I to mind when I wouldn’t even know they are there?”

Bye for now!

Marje @ Kyrosmagica xx

My Friday Post: Spring in the Woods

WP_20150415_009 — https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

This Friday I thought I’d take you with me on a walk in my neighbouring Country Park woods, they are so beautiful and I regret that I don’t often take a moment to stop and really marvel at the beauty that is right on my doorstep. When the children were little we were always at the swing park, indulging in the delights of sunny picnics. But now my youngest daughter wouldn’t be seen there with her mother! That would be so embarrassing for her. She is fifteen so it’s to be expected! If she still wanted to hang out with me, I’d be wondering what was wrong. So, undaunted I decided to go on my own on Tuesday. Yes, I did just that, and was so glad that I did. It was a beautiful sunny day. Everyone was out enjoying the sunshine, eating ice creams, children were playing in the park, office workers were sneaking out for a crafty short break, and who could blame them? It was a glorious Spring day. I hadn’t realised just how warm it was and I was overdressed, in fact there were a few young men stripped to the waist, sunbathing, enjoying the sunshine. Definitely brightened up my day! I was tempted to snap them too, with a camera of course, but wasn’t sure how they would react so I’m afraid I only photographed the trees, a monument, and some cheeky shadows!

WP_20150415_010 — https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

WP_20150415_011 — https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

WP_20150415_017 — https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

WP_20150415_019 — https://kyrosmagica.wordpress.com

Have a wonderful Friday, hope the sun is shining wherever you are. Enjoy your weekend.

Please feel free to connect, I love to talk about books, writing, haiku, photography, food, art, theatre, you name it, anything cultural and fun, I’m there.

Twitter @Marjorie_Mallon

and here:

Tumblr: http://kyrosmagica.tumblr.com/

and here:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kyrosmagica

and here!

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/20419289-marje-mallon

Bye for now.

Marje @ Kyrosmagica. xx

Mirrored tree house in Sweden

Mirrored Tree house in Sweden – Earth Pics – reblogged via Digger666.

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My Friday Image and Poem: Landscape With Gun And Tree Cornelia Parker

Landscape With Gun And Tree Cornelia Parker

This little poetic ditty was inspired by this wonderful sculpture which I had the pleasure of seeing in all its splendour at Juniper Artland, Wilkieston, Scotland. You may remember that I mentioned this wonderful inspiring Artland before in several blog posts, the original being on the 15th of June 2014.

Landscape Gun and Tree

Halt – the daring spring sunshine

In dread symmetry.

Haiku and Photo, good or bad, are my very own!

Hope you enjoyed my Friday image and Haiku poem.

Have a wonderful weekend. 🙂

Links:

https://www.jupiterartland.org/artwork/landscape-with-gun-and-tree

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of all material in this blog without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to this blog’s author with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. Thank you.

My Friday Image and Poem: A Worldwide Web Shane Waltener

A Worldwide Web Shane Waltener

This litte poetic ditty was inspired by this wonderful sculpture which I had the pleasure of seeing in all its splendour at Juniper Artland, Wilkieston, Scotland. You may remember that I mentioned this wonderful inspiring Artland before in several blog posts, the original being on the 15th of June 2014.

A Worldwide Web

Looking through your mesmerising eyes

There’s no way to look away,

Speckled shadows dance and play,

In this Worldwide Web of Enchantment.

Looking through your murmuring eyes,

There’s no way to steal away,

Deceitful shadows flit and play,

In this Worldwide Web of Allure.

Looking through your mocking eyes

There’s no way to break away,

Fine gossamer lines wrap and entwine,

In this Worldwide Web of Delusion.

Looking through your morbid eyes,

There’s no way to run away,

The script is already written,

In this Worldwide Web of Drama.

Looking through your lost greenery of truth,

There’s no way to rip away,

Do I vindicate or blame you?

In this Worldwide Web of Uncertainty.

Words, and Photo, good or bad, are my very own!

Hope you enjoyed my Friday image and poem. Have a wonderful weekend. 🙂

Links:

https://www.jupiterartland.org/artwork/a-world-wide-web

http://shanewaltener.blogspot.co.uk/#4199122337725407763

http://shanewaltener.com/

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/features/in-the-studio-shane-waltener-artist-8812518.html

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of all material in this blog post without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to this blog’s author with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. Thank you.

My Friday Image and Poem : The Weeping Girls – Laura Ford

The Weeping Girls

The Weeping Girl leans against a tree,

Long hair tumbling in rope like curls,

Obscuring, and suffocating, eyes clamped shut,

Unable to express,

Excitement, contentment, anger, sadness,

The Weeping Girls Weep.

The Weeping Girls are not living,

The Weeping Girls are not breathing,

The Weeping Girls are not smiling,

The Weeping Girls are not laughing,

The Weeping Girls Weep.

Stone hands grip her cold stone dress,

The tree moulds to her evident distress,

Seasons come and go,

The Tree lives,

The Weeping Girl weeps.

The Weeping Girls aren’t playing,

The Weeping Girls aren’t dancing,

The Weeping Girls aren’t hide and seeking,

The Weeping Girls aren’t reading and writing,

The Weeping Girls Weep.

Birds fly in the sky,

Visitors walk by,

Children laugh and play,

Stares disturb the Weeping Girls,

The Weeping Girls Weep.

The Weeping Girls can’t draw,

The Weeping Girls can’t sleep,

The Weeping Girls can’t eat,

The Weeping Girls can’t love,

The Weeping Girls Weep.

The Weeping Girls have no pets,

The Weeping Girls have no games,

The Weeping Girls have no friends and lovers,

The Weeping Girls have no children.

The Weeping Girls Weep.

The Weeping Girls stone heart gashes.

The Weeping Girls stone eyes glare,

The Weeping Girls stone teeth gnash,

The Weeping Girls stone hands grind,

The Weeping Girls stone feet gallop,

The Weeping Girls Wail !!!!!!

Poetry and Weeping Girl photo is Copyright M J Mallon aka Kyrosmagica.

I found these statues so thought-provoking when I saw them many years ago at Juniper Artland. The photo at the top of this blog post is my best photo of the Weeping Girls, unfortunately some of my other photos were a bit blurry. But do see the link at the end of this post to see the photographs of the other Weeping Girls, in all their eerie glory, there are five in all, I do hope they don’t give you nightmares!

Have a wonderful weekend, keep on smiling, no weeping, and no wailing allowed!

https://www.jupiterartland.org/artwork/weeping-girls

THIS BLOG claims no credit for any images posted on this site unless otherwise noted. Images on this blog are copyright to its respectful owners. If there is an image appearing on this blog that belongs to you and you do not wish for it to appear on this site, please contact me or e-mail me with a link to said image and it will be promptly removed.

My Friday Image: Juniper Artland Sculpture, Firmament by Anthony Gormley

Firmament by Antony Gormley

Exposure 2010

This litte poetic ditty was inspired by this wonderful sculpture which I had the pleasure of seeing in all its splendour at Juniper Artland, Wilkieston, Scotland. You may remember that I mentioned this wonderful inspiring Artland before in a much earlier blog post, on the 15th of June 2014.

The Puzzle of Unforgiving Turf

Black space, a jigsaw of blue, confusing skies.

A giant piece of white mystifying lies,

Still we twist, baffle, and turn,

While blackened steel pieces confuse and burn.

My fingers decipher thoughts, raw and aching,

Questioning layers of paint work mercilessly flaking,

I turn to discern the last bewildering step,

I piece the puzzle, too late, the enigma lies cold and wet.

I trip, and fall, unravel, flip an ankle,

In scattered pieces I confusingly entangle,

But there’s no bewildering cuddle,

Just a gap, no cushion, in air’s baffling puzzle.

A pocket of relentless sky and bemused clouds,

Blankets the confused sounds,

As I fall in pieces, scattering, to the perplexed earth,

Triumph hitting the newly solved, but, oh so, unforgiving turf!

Words, and Photo, good or bad, are my very own!

That was such fun!!!! Love poetry, just wish I was better at writing poems. Still, it’s nice to try. Please, if there any poets out there reading this, do give me feedback, I’m looking to improve 🙂

Links:

https://www.jupiterartland.org/

http://www.antonygormley.com/

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