Sometimes I Surrender


Tonight I crossed the bridge of sighs and I surrendered

It’s been a rough week… well it has been a rough summer. Rough largely just because it has been so busy and tiring. It has definitely taken away time I spent on photographic projects, or personal life in general for that matter. The good news is I keep re-working older photos. This week was the roughest yet and I am left pretty exhausted. I should be in bed and soon I shall be, but before I went I made a point to get to one or two of my images, bring’em to life and to express myself creatively. It has proven to be the best balance for me over the years. Some seek comfort with family, others counsel with friends, being an introvert I turn to myself and the things I made during the lighter moments. My photos are records not of places I have been or things I have seen; they are records of me in moments, generally better ones. Through the photos then I can connect with that bit of myself. Creating is a wonderful gift and the benefits it imparts can balance out a lot of things. It is one of the best balms I have found when my soul is weary or my body exhausted or my mind negatively preoccupied. And yes, even with this piece here and now; the process of editing these photos, writing about them (vaguely) and sharing them has had a discernible effect on my mood. So yes, I am glad I sat down and connected with that part of me.


Birds fly and fill the summer skies and sometimes I surrender

I mostly crafted this post for my own purposes, but I suppose there is an example in this to be shared too and if I was going to turn that into encouragement it is to use positive action to balance negative. Creation, at least in this sense, then is very positive. Something to keep in mind, perhaps.


Sweet Dreams.


The disappearing world of footprints in the sand.

Until Nothing Is Left


There’s no way out of here, when you come in you’re in for good


Great God I don’t believe in you


Pale God I had a dream of you

How you respond when your ego’s bruised, your fantasy exposed

Oh how you will make them pay with Vest and hired Van


Whining God who the fuck are you?

Come here, come and hear my heart

Cos when the world breaks you will feel the blast


The World is exhausted. Wreckage all around.

There are no answers here, when you look out you don’t see in.

Shores Of The Night

SH3Dusk, when evening turns magenta
Time to tell the day to rest
To abandon its hurry
Time to think again
SH6On the shores of the night
I relive the day. Was it good? Was it bad?
Have I lived? Have I loved?
Was there a dream for me?

When the evening turns to silence
And I’m safe and still
Have light and shadow played their part?

SH4When the truth rises from the mist
And tenderness arrives
Let’s consider this life for a while

SH8On the shores of the night
I’ll let the day float past me
And I’ll rest forever


Until waves are rustling at my feet and break the silence.


The Wise One Reflects


Everything that has to end

Can be a new start

Never be imprisoned by your past life


Much I did not recognise

Much I simply missed

But I always did find something worthy


Vivid dreams of paradise

Yes I dreamed them too

Once I got there it had all but vanished


Walls are being raised up high

Walls come crashing down

Careful, don’t get hurt by falling debris


Once the ice begins to melt

Falling through is swift

But the risky first steps must be taken

Amidst The Atmoscape

This memorable journey through the early morning Mediterranean mist, memorable for many reasons, just came to mind and I thought why not. So here it is.


Atmosphere of course would have worked. As they are from the Greek words atmos (vapor) and sphaira (globe, ball, etc). But I didn’t care as much about the sphere part of it, for me it was all about the atmos. I had driven under this blanket of vapor, without even a peek of the sun for two hours. Then driving north-east along the coast and climbing up the Mountain range I found myself exiting through the top of that world and into the bottom of another, separated by only the flimsiest barriers of water vapor and elevation.


At this spot, I had a foot in both places as the mists swirled across the Mediterranean Sea beneath, giving me the barest glimpses now and again before pushing up the mountains, caressing me with its gentle, cool breeze and the promise of a beautiful new day.



Imagine somewhere out there is a planet


Populated by intelligent beings
Who may just look like us
And on that planet there stands a library


Full of books
Written by Poets
Philosophers and

And maybe

When the hatred and greed has become so great

That nothing more can save us here

Then, maybe there, a book can be found

Once opened you will find


The recorded downfall of our earth
You will read reports about us
About our lives
About our death


And our two sunsets
Which were so great
That no tears could quench them

And from seven billion eyes
A mourning red rain ran

Now just a floating tomb in space

And whoever wants to witness
That the earth shall never weep again

Needs to be united against war, greed, poverty, inequality, education inflation and nuclear madness


And whoever cares will play their part in
That this book is never read

For seven billion eyes


Will cherish our blue planet, our only home without fear for love, light and peace.

The Old Tree And Me



These woods are lovely, dark and deep

But I have miles to go before I sleep


Enticed by poets’ words and song

With roots so deep, unmovable and strong


Where branches capture dreams undreamed

And all my dreams will start with these


Now evening has fallen, and nightingales are singing

The last of Sunday’s Bells is ringing

And on the darkest hour of the year

Over treetops you perceive

Scarcely a breath – silence

Wait then; and soon you too

Will have peace


1000 year old Olive Tree – Palma