Wonderful composition of setting and colour to this photograph, Jason - especially the slate blue of the road. I have a special thing for treelined roadways and paths that lead us...somewhere.
Autumn has definitely a sense of mystery and some sadness, too. It is well shown here :) Do poets find autumn more attractive for the very same reason, what do you think? Or does it inspire them more?
I love that picture, but then I've always loved photos like that, of a twisty road where you can see just enough to stir the old imagination. I often wonder what's beyond the bend.
Suzan, it's great to see you. Hope you've been well.
Nasra, glad you liked it. I wonder what it's like this time of year where you are.
Bernita, I always appreciated the color of this photo. And I agree about those winding roads. No matter how many you travel, you still believe that next curve will reveal something extraordinary.
Szelsofa, inspiring, yes. Something majestic in the dying year that's very different from spring's growth. Maturity fades to gold. A last play on Earth before the dark half the world sleeps.
Kaycie, thanks, my friend.
Hoodie, the chill and the dew evoke a rare richness.
Ello, I sense those secrets in the mist, but resist giving myself over to them. Maybe its a little touch of the magic of Brigadoon or Rip Van Winkle, you could wake up in another lifetime after having peculiar dreams.
Shesawriter, funny that no matter how many bends lead to disappointment, we never stop trusting that the next will be different.
Jay, I'm sorry for that. Fall is not to be missed, drought or no drought.
"As I touch the secrets the world weeps" - beautiful, Jason! The photo is also so appropriate - the forests are secrets, the road is an invitation, a never ending temptation...
You have such a wonderful ability to create emotions with only a handful of well-chosen words.
Have you ever thought about trying to sell some of your poems to Blue Mountain Arts for greeting cards? Hokey as it sounds, they do pay fairly well if they accept the work (I think it's $300 a poem or something...)
Incidentally, I gave you a plug at my blog. Not sure if it'll get you new traffic, but I wanted to highlight you just the same!
Vesper, so true. Roads rarely lead exactly where you expect them to.
Angelique, I have to admit that my poetry is one thing I've given no effort at all to sell. Maybe I should. I view it as a raw way to communicate, and I like capturing some of my emotions that way. Thanks for the suggestion, and a special thanks for your wonderful review of The Clarity of Night!!
Therese, that's how it feels to me these mornings. The heavy dew seems to be distilled from all that was lost to the air in the summer.
16 comments:
Says so much on imagery & emotion, Jason.
Have missed you & hope you are well. :-)
I was touched with your poem
Thanks for sharing
Nasra
Wonderful composition of setting and colour to this photograph, Jason - especially the slate blue of the road.
I have a special thing for treelined roadways and paths that lead us...somewhere.
Autumn has definitely a sense of mystery and some sadness, too. It is well shown here :)
Do poets find autumn more attractive for the very same reason, what do you think? Or does it inspire them more?
Gorgeous photo and lovely words, Jason. As always.
I think there is something beautiful in the strange touch of melancholy in autumn.
This is wonderful.
Lovely. Great imagery. Makes me wonder - What are the secrets that make the world weep? It invokes melancholy, but in a good way.
I love that picture, but then I've always loved photos like that, of a twisty road where you can see just enough to stir the old imagination. I often wonder what's beyond the bend.
Thanks for that. I've been deprived.
We had sucha dry summer that the leaves just died and dropped and never really changed into magical colours.
Suzan, it's great to see you. Hope you've been well.
Nasra, glad you liked it. I wonder what it's like this time of year where you are.
Bernita, I always appreciated the color of this photo. And I agree about those winding roads. No matter how many you travel, you still believe that next curve will reveal something extraordinary.
Szelsofa, inspiring, yes. Something majestic in the dying year that's very different from spring's growth. Maturity fades to gold. A last play on Earth before the dark half the world sleeps.
Kaycie, thanks, my friend.
Hoodie, the chill and the dew evoke a rare richness.
Ello, I sense those secrets in the mist, but resist giving myself over to them. Maybe its a little touch of the magic of Brigadoon or Rip Van Winkle, you could wake up in another lifetime after having peculiar dreams.
Shesawriter, funny that no matter how many bends lead to disappointment, we never stop trusting that the next will be different.
Jay, I'm sorry for that. Fall is not to be missed, drought or no drought.
Beautiful! I'm so glad fall is here!
"As I touch the secrets the world weeps" - beautiful, Jason! The photo is also so appropriate - the forests are secrets, the road is an invitation, a never ending temptation...
You have such a wonderful ability to create emotions with only a handful of well-chosen words.
Have you ever thought about trying to sell some of your poems to Blue Mountain Arts for greeting cards? Hokey as it sounds, they do pay fairly well if they accept the work (I think it's $300 a poem or something...)
Incidentally, I gave you a plug at my blog. Not sure if it'll get you new traffic, but I wanted to highlight you just the same!
Angelique
I really love that line, "As I touch the secrets".
It's beautiful, and makes me feel wistful.
Vixen, I agree. Bring on the leaves!
Vesper, so true. Roads rarely lead exactly where you expect them to.
Angelique, I have to admit that my poetry is one thing I've given no effort at all to sell. Maybe I should. I view it as a raw way to communicate, and I like capturing some of my emotions that way. Thanks for the suggestion, and a special thanks for your wonderful review of The Clarity of Night!!
Therese, that's how it feels to me these mornings. The heavy dew seems to be distilled from all that was lost to the air in the summer.
dude, i love your poetry...
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