Daguerrotype
In the dark room of severe crises
It's is an early kind of photograph for the Exhibition.
And it takes a certain time,
But be confident and give your full support to get the finish off.
Probably this could be one of the best sepia photographs
That would hang in the White(boarding) House.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
I was so impressed with the work we were doing and I was very involved ideologically in photography - that I arranged an exhibition at the College Art Association. The first exhibition I picked the photographs and so on and we had an exhibition in New York.
In the White
In the white, early morning
I hang my face
over her head
and kiss the flesh above her brow.
I hang my neck, a bow in the air
and kiss the tiny, tickling hairs above her brow.
In the white light of morning
I hang myself over her
and kiss the flesh of her skull
Her white skull
sleeps in the early morning as I hang myself
to kiss her.
I hang myself to kiss her
as she sleeps in the white, early morning.
She does not wake to my touch.
I hang myself above her
on the white bow
of early morning.
She does not wake to my hanging.
The window is cracked and taped.
The outside air is cold, forceful.
I bend myself
above her sleeping body
to kiss her, gently on the brow.
To kiss her gently on the brow
I hang myself.
poem by Chavisa Woods
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A Room Full Of Arty Types
A room full of arty types
all vying to be heard.
Gathering for an exhibition
of photographs by someone.
The pictures hung on a board,
displaying the work done.
Everyone shares a viewpoint
on how the photos were done.
I sit and smile
as the voices around me chatter
in a mêlées of nice conversation
indistinguishable from where I sat,
but the hands and arm waving
amused me quite a bit..
30 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Love fed the ego.
Attention crises, identity crises,
Acceptance crises, recognition crises,
Response crises all are at naught
When you earn the glance of a woman.
The lust is the ocean that bathes the ego.
To win a woman is
More than to win a battle.
06.06.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Mimis House
I remember many times when I was just a child,
How I played in that old house upon the farm.
With rocking chairs and squeaky stairs, all pieces of her world,
And a fire in her room to keep us warm.
cause no one is a stranger in mimis house,
cause love has made his home there in her heart.
And shes got that infectious way of laughing right out loud
That takes away my pain and lights the dark.
And now were not as young as when I played there all the time,
And the visits seemed too scarce and far between,
But life goes on at mimis house, and in my mind Im there,
With a fire in her room to keep us warm.
cause no one is a stranger in mimis house,
cause love has made his home there in her heart.
And shes got that infectious way of laughing right out loud
That takes away my pain and lights the dark.
And when I stop and think of how shes aging,
Growing strong and graceful in her god.
Well, you know it takes my fear away from aging;
She seems to know the secret that well never be apart.
cause no one is a stranger in mimis house,
cause love has made his home there in her heart.
And shes got that infectious way of laughing right out loud
That takes away my pain and lights the dark.
Yes, shes got that infectious way of laughing right out loud
That takes away my pain and lights the dark.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After Midnight
By j. j. cale
After midnight, were gonna let it all hang down.
After midnight, were gonna chug-a-lug and shout.
Were gonna stimulate some action;
Were gonna get some satisfaction.
Were gonna find out what it is all about.
After midnight, were gonna let it all hang down.
After midnight, were gonna shake your tambourine.
After midnight, its all gonna be peaches and cream.
Were gonna cause talk and suspicion;
Were gonna give an exhibition.
Were gonna find out what it is all about.
After midnight, were gonna let it all hang down.
After midnight, were gonna let it all hang down.
Second verse
After midnight, were gonna let it all hang down.
After midnight, were gonna let it all hang down.
After midnight, were gonna let it all hang down.
After midnight, were gonna let it all hang down.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hollywood
A suburb of Los Angeles, California
Very famous for the motion-picture industry it seems.
I hear they are searching a new actor for an ugly role.
Suddenly I sent one of my old photographs with a resume.
And I got a prompt reply; 'Sorry Sir, you are too ugly for the role.
But anyway we decided to hang your photograph in our studio for future references.'
I responded, 'Thank you very much for your kindness Sir.
And I hope you give me a King's role very soon.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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0009 Mild And Bitter Thoughts
and I'm sitting in the pub,
fruitful source of people-watching verse,
(Jake will know it)
collecting the strength to walking-stick home
or that's the story,
chilling out,
glass half empty,
heart half full,
a benign haze of love
for all the people in the pub
mingling with an universal love
suspectly
opposite, two sepia photographs
of local scenes, which the thoughtful pub chain
use to decorate the walls:
both are of the local, semi-rural, Tube station;
one's from 1905ish so I'd I guess
from the floor-length skirts,
the birds'-nest hats; I wonder
if the ladies felt the need to think
dress up? dress down? for this
ground-breaking, literally,
new form of transport?
the other's from around the early 1920s:
a glimpse of stockinged ankle, gasp, or manly faint..
I try to place myself, push my sepia way
into gelled history - 1905, and if I still lived round here
the house would be brand-new; I -we- would be so proud;
newly-married with my stable job,
stiff collar rubbing on the neck in summer heat;
and just the right age to fight
for King And Country in that bitter war
that loomed on the expansive, leisurely, secure
Edwardian horizon..how did my widow manage
with all those children?
No; I know too much in my born blood
of that trench war.. let's look instead
at post-war peace - the stiff collar
still chafes, but I walk erect
still in a bowler hat, a waistcoat, a sense
of my place in society, a career
of slow but steady rise in just one firm; and
it's a toss-up whether I might be
still young enough to be called up for
my King And Country around 1939,
or old enough to be bombed at home...
The glass is empty and the crisps are done
(that sounds like Auden, Eliot, Betjeman?) :
I pull myself with sepia suction sound
out of the photos into full colour; and
still benign and walking steady,
take home my fantasies and gratitude.
One lifetime at a time - that's quite enough.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Old Man alone in his room
He doesn't like to talk
just sits quietly
never smiles or laughs.
Won't join in any of the games,
eats his meals in his room
leaves his tray outside the door.
Next to his bed is a black and white
photograph of a man in uniform.
In a drawer lie medals covered by socks,
bravery hidden away.
He can hear laughter outside his room
as he stares out of his window at a dark cold sky.
When the sun shines he likes to feed the birds,
a squirrel takes food from his outstretched hand.
One day his tray isn't outside the door,
outside a lone squirrel waits.
poem by Kevin Halls
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The Place of Forgotten Memories
For years I’ve put odds and sods up into the roof space,
like old books, photographs, and the odd vase.
When my parents died I also put their memorabilia up there,
and now my loft holds many memories from over the years.
My grandson ventured up there and came down with a photograph,
he asked me why his picture was not in colour, and I began to laugh.
Of course it wasn’t him in the photograph it was his great granddad,
the resemblance was uncanny, which made me kind of sad.
The picture of my granddad was taken at the age of nine,
the same age as my grandson at this particular time.
I remember my granddad well especially in his later years,
and seeing him in my grandson fills me with tears.
poem by Orlando Belo
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A Caring Person
It takes strong arms
to support the weight
of a breaking heart.
It takes strong shoulders
to comfort someone
with a grieving soul.
It takes a caring person
to be that strong support.
We walk tall throughout the world,
but even a mighty branch can break.
This is when we seek out a caring person,
who can be our supporting frame.
Someone who will stand by us
when all the others have gone,
our support in time of need.
You need strong arms to hug someone
when they feel they cannot go on.
You need strong shoulders for someone to cry on
within their hour of grief.
You need both of these things
just to be the supporting kind.
22 February 2012
poem by David Harris
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I think photographs should be provocative and not tell you what you already know. It takes no great powers or magic to reproduce somebody's face in a photograph. The magic is in seeing people in new ways.
quote by Duane Michals
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You can give some kind of spark of life to a comic that a photograph doesn't really have. A photograph, even if it's connecting with you, it seems very dead on the page sometimes.
quote by Daniel Clowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love And Napalm
Call me Deadliner
Nothing in here but dust.
Are you afraid dear listener?
Nothing in here but us.
I'll give you black rumours
'Stay away from everything I've seen.'
I'll give you black rumours
'Stay away from everyone I've been.'
The broken sound of love and lies
Still fill your room.
Faded memories of shame
Will find you soon.
I'll give you corrosion
Miracles are never what they seem
I'll give you corrosion
Welcome to the nightmare, not the dream.
I can remember everything.
Every promise, every lie,
And how the words of strangers made me cry.
All the pride, all the shame,
All the friends that came from nowhere
And then hurried back again.
I collected scars like a man at war
And I thought 'Isn't life peculiar,
Desire takes you there, but not back.'
No more. I'm just another old story.
When God heard your prayer
It said 'I am not your friend.'
Laughed like a fallen angel
And said 'I've no love to send.'
It keeps a photograph
It likes to overdose on time
It said 'Time to leave'
Like other friends of mine.
I'll give you dark wonders
You are all invited to the show.
I'll give you dominions
You are all invited to the show.
I'll give you dead hereos
You are all invited to the show.
I'll give you love and napalm
You are all invited to the show.
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love & Napalm
Call me deadliner
Nothing in here but dust.
Are you afraid dear listener?
Nothing in here but us.
Ill give you black rumours
stay away from everything Ive seen.
Ill give you black rumours
stay away from everyone Ive been.
The broken sound of love and lies
Still fill your room.
Faded memories of shame
Will find you soon.
Ill give you corrosion
Miracles are never what they seem
Ill give you corrosion
Welcome to the nightmare, not the dream.
I can remember everything.
Every promise, every lie,
And how the words of strangers made me cry.
All the pride, all the shame,
All the friends that came from nowhere
And then hurried back again.
I collected scars like a man at war
And I thought isnt life peculiar,
Desire takes you there, but not back.
No more. Im just another old story.
When God heard your prayer
It said i am not your friend.
Laughed like a fallen angel
And said Ive no love to send.
It keeps a photograph
It likes to overdose on time
It said time to leave
Like other friends of mine.
Ill give you dark wonders
You are all invited to the show.
Ill give you dominions
You are all invited to the show.
Ill give you dead hereos
You are all invited to the show.
Ill give you love and napalm
You are all invited to the show.
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The White Room
(SpringfieldVallance)
I can see her at her windows watching,
locked away inside her skin,
I can see her but I can't get to her, she won't come out,
and she won't let me into
The white room (she's living in)
Lying alone til she comes undone
In the white room, she burns for the real thing.
But it won't come.
In her head is the same obsession
and all the bottles and pills won't heal her heart.
She heard his last confession
and every word just tears her apart
In the white room (locked away)
doing time till her time is done
In the white room there's so much to say
but the words won't come.
Come back to the land of the living,
when you gonna break the chain,
there's so much too much that you're leaving
and you're never gonna stop the rain
In the white room.
waiting for the call that never comes
in the white room, she awaits.
Look at something long enough you'll find,
that the splinters and the cracks begin to show,
I'll be the first in line when the walls start falling
and she lets go of
The white room (it's late)
living alone only makes you numb
In the white room she burns for the real thing
but it won't come
In the white room (she's living in) I think its time
that you're time is done,
In the white room she burns
In the white room (it's late)
lying alone till she comes undone
In the white room she awaits
In the white room
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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6th Nonsense
The room is dark, I die.
Like painting the wind, it's impossible.
If oranges were gray we might call them 'Grays'
That would be groovy.
The room is dark, I die.
The room is dark, I die.
If there's rain in Spain would it make it to Maine?
I don't think so.
Everything's Zen?
I don't think so.
The room is dark I die.
The room is dark, I die.
I want to drift through lavender fields like honey on a cotton ball.
Dig it.
But the high-talking motorcross bandits won't let me.
The sorrow.
The room is dark, I die.
The room is dark, I die.
But if I were in Punjab I never would have seen the quartet.
If only quartets had 7 people.
That's alright because bunsen burners don't cost much.
The room is dark, I die.
The room is dark, I die.
That's my favorite Bible verse.
I think it's in Lushiticus, or Nueteronomy.
The hail storms don't mean anything when you're a unicorn anyway.
The room is dark, I die.
poem by Sledge Hammer
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Alone Again In The Lap Of Luxury
(music: marillion lyrics: steve hogarth & john helmer)
See those people there?
They look after me
This is a photograph of who I might be
Man in a uniform ... bride on his arm
Mum always was a fool for money and charm
Hes been talkin in his sleep again
Sayin hes sorry, callin my name
Sayin how hes ashamed ...
Alone again in the lap of luxury
Since it happened I had nothin to say
It used to bother them but now its ok
Mother cleans his dreadful house every day
Scrubbing all the stains that wont go away
They sent me away to the school in the park
They said it would be good for me
I still hear the other kids cry in the dark
Alone again in the lap of luxury
Is there no escape
I dont remember the last time I cried
I dont remember much except lies
See the little girl spirallin down
This is a photograph of who she is now
One day this will all be yours he said
Tidy your room and straight to bed
Tidy up those thoughts in your head
Alone again in the lap of luxury
I could be anywhere right now
If I only had the nerve to leave this house
Maybe somewhere by the sea ...
Take me somewhere, anywhere please!
We could make a pillow of sand and sleep
We could roll
We could make
We could see
We could scream
Far
Father
Farthest
Oh daddy ...
You do not do anymore ...
For gods sake dont pretend to be concerned ...
Turn into nightmares in the end
Throw a party for all my friends
Alone again in the lap of luxury
(I) now wash your hands
You give up hope
You settle down
With your favourite soap ...
Now wash your hands
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Full Of You
Cardboard boxes on the floor
They contain memories and so much more
Black and white photographs
Faded now but I remember how we laughed
Theres nothing left for me to do
Ive an empty house, full of you
Pour myself a glass of wine
Let it breathe but I dont give it too much time
Take another and set it down
I kid myself theres nobody else around
Theres nothing left for me to do
Ive an empty glass, full of you
But let me tell you baby
I cant fight the feeling
I never stopped believing
You were coming back to me
I hear footsteps by the door
Could it be theres nothing else that I want more
There you stand in front of me
I see your face my heart has wings you set me free
Theres nothing left for me to do
Now my empty heart, is full of you
But let me tell you baby
I cant fight the feeling
I never stopped believing
You were coming back to me
Let me tell you darling
Never did I doubt you
I cant live without you
Its so good youre back with me
song performed by by Rick Astley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I first came to London, shortly after the end of the war, I found myself after a few days in a boarding-house, called a private hotel, in Kensington High Street area. The boarding-house was owned by Mr. Shylock. He didn't live there, but the attic was reserved for him; and Lieni, the Maltese housekeeper, told me he occasionally spent a night there with a young girl. 'These English girls!' Lieni said.
V.S. Naipaul in The Mimic Men (1967)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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