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Originally uploaded by M'sheArt2❤

Millefiori

Millefiori, originally uploaded by M'sheArt2❤


Envy is the art of counting the other fellow's blessings instead of your own.  ~Harold Coffin

Water is taught by thirst..

Water is taught by thirst.., originally uploaded by ❤ M'sheArt2 ❤.

Water, is taught by thirst.

Land -- by the Oceans passed.

Transport -- by throe --

Peace -- by its battles told --

Love, by Memorial Mold --

Birds, by the Snow.

~ Emily Dickinson~

Diaphanous ~ my new Flickr group

I reworked this photo for my new group, very new indeed, I'm the only one in it, it's called Diaphanous a flickr group for photos seen shot through window screens, windows, shades, fabric, curtains,, (if car windows the focus of this group is not on car mirrors) fences, and anything related, I've not thought it out fully yet.
the original

I've been very drawn to these types of shots, I have more then a few in my archives. I'm excited about the group. Come join us, haa, right at the moment, it's just me, there isn't yet an us)
Anywho, it's incredibly close and humid here today (again), 94% humidity for that matter, and me, without access to the sea I feel like one of those folks that complains about the weather, I just really miss the seaside, and you Andy. Back online now to renew Dad's passport, hmm didn't I just do this for myself a bit ago, yeas, Oh the fun.

“On Monday, when the sun is hot, I wonder to myself a lot: `Now is it true, or is it not, That what is which and which is what?'”

Blues

© M'sheart2 ~ All images are all rights reserved

Once in the dream of a night I stood Lone in the light of a magical wood, Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang; And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang, And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed, And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed In that magical wood in the land of sleep. Lone in the light of that magical grove, I felt the stars of the spirits of Love Gather and gleam round my delicate youth, And I heard the song of the spirits of Truth; To quench my longing I bent me low By the streams of the spirits of Peace that flow In that magical wood in the land of sleep.

Unwilling priestess in thy cruel fane,

Long hast thou held me, pitiless god of Pain,

Bound to thy worship by reluctant vows,

My tired breast girt with suffering, and my brows

Anointed with perpetual weariness.

Long have I borne thy service, through the stress

Of rigorous years, sad days and slumberless nights,

Performing thine inexorable rites.

For thy dark altars, balm nor milk nor rice,

But mine own soul thou'st ta'en for sacrifice:

All the rich honey of my youth's desire,

And all the sweet oils from my crushed life drawn,

And all my flower-like dreams and gem-like fire

Of hopes up-leaping like the light of dawn.

I have no more to give, all that was mine

Is laid, a wrested tribute, at thy shrine;

Let me depart, for my whole soul is wrung,

And all my cheerless orisons are sung;

Let me depart, with faint limbs let me creep

To some dim shade and sink me down to sleep.

- Sarojini Naidu

Trees

Oct 11th, 2008 with a fever of 103. + Birch & company your beauty did not escape me, as I half laid on the earth, partially supported by your sturdy, and peeling silvery trunk...

11:01:04AM returning from New Hampshire a stop at Loon Mountain.



Alone with myself
The trees bend
to carress me
The shade hugs
my heart.

- Candy Polgar