the stone is as old as time
with the walls having seen
countless lovers
breakaway tearaway getaway
tears and orgasmic pleasure
the sand between the bricks
sings the songs
of long-dead mistresses and loved ones
I had the opportunity to get away from busy life with my lover recently and the place where we resided looks like a perfect romantic getaway for lovers. The walls were thick with stories and poems of previous lovers who called this their little getaway. We explored the surrounding area, and we made poetry behind closed doors.
Here, I share some of these photographs and the poetry that goes along with them. At the end of the poetic and photographic journey, I also share two photographs of the baby kittens who joined us on our little excursion! They were so friendly and I did not even see them until my girlfriend pointed them out to me.
I hope that you enjoy this series of photographs and poems.
A Romantic Getaway
we were once but imaginary lovers
stuck in a symbolic order
beyond our reach
now
we have become the real
the desire
we have been searching for
with nothing standing
in our ways
we are left to design
the course of our lives
that stretch infinitely long
into the past
into the future
rooted in the present
we are infinite moments
frozen in time
stretching through the history
that we only ended up adopting
with foreign minds and hands and fingers
trying to work themselves in between our creations
my love
let us run away
(cliche as it may be)
so that we can try and rebuild
our love
in the image of perfection
in the image of grace
for the insensitive touch
of the cold world
leaves us with nothing to care for
bask in the light
of our love
find your way
through the broken world
with only the sound
of my words
smell the products
of our passions
while you listen
to the call of my poetry
that flies over the eyes
that want to defile it
with its compulsive tendency
to clear understanding
bask in the light
my love
of our love
that resembles a chaotic world
waiting to give birth
to the stars
Postscriptum, or And then there was a cat!
Whilst we wrote poetry and drank wine, we saw a small baby cat wandering in the garden with its brothers and sisters. I only managed to see the small face of the one sibling, but its curious eyes attracted me just as much as my movement attracted its vision.
Between the plants it hid, or tried to hide, from our eyes. But we saw it and it saw us. The vision battle, or as philosophers might have stated, the gaze of the other is confrontational and violent. It is not something to be taken up lightly! What magical ideas might this little baby cat have constructed of us, while we constructed magical worlds of its being in the garden with us?
Alas, we will never know. Just like the gaze of the lover, trying to dominate me, trying to objectify me, so will I never know what this little cat friend thought.
In any case, I hope that you enjoyed the poetry and the photographs!
Happy photographing, and keep well.
All of the writings and musings and poetic meanderings are my own, albeit inspired by the little getaway with my lover. The photographs are also my own, taken with my Nikon D300 and 50mm lens or 300mm zoom lens.
If we listen, places talk, and these pictures are talking.
Thank you so much. And so true, only if we quiet ourselves, can we listen to the poetry seeping through the walls.