Photography (255) Music (208) Portraiture (147) Italian Vogue (35) Poetry (22) BBC (20) Thoughts (16) Art (3) (3) Facebook (2)

Just me.

Just me.

Sunday, 28 April 2013

Wednesday, 24 April 2013

BBC Wales

My photo has been published on BBC Wales today (, image 4 is by me). Unfortunately, my words got twisted.  'The weather conditions make Penarth's pier seem quite a dramatic place. I like this image for its leading lines,' was exactly what I wanted to say. 

If you follow this link, you'll easily find image 8, which is also by me. 
Wales is so beautiful and I feel so fortunate to live here!

Updated on Sunday, 28 April: The caption's been changed on my request. They are brill! 

Monday, 22 April 2013

I'm sharing a few photos I took last weekend (just a reminder: click on the images to see them clearly). I visited Waterfall Country in Brecon Beacons (South Wales) again and then experimented with harsh lighting in my studio. Not entirely sure what I think of the results, but this is just a learning process and I thoroughly enjoy it.

                                                                                    Listen to this.

Thursday, 18 April 2013

About a Boy

The green hope
of a child of wonder
born under an unlucky star
verges on black

At dawn,
encircled by those who don't care
(so shouldn't be),
in a grey tonality of his circumstances,
he's a helpless giver of light

In the afternoon,
unable to preserve
the glow of a summer day,
he bends down
swiftly gets up to wipe off
the scars of disappointment

At twilight,
he grows his beautiful shell
to cover the pain 
of unbearable formless void
he's afraid he's become 

 At night,
all tension vanishes
from his innocent face
His wings're no longer denied

                                                This is for your ears. And this.

Tuesday, 16 April 2013

About Being Afraid

In this poem,
the air is pure,
so I can easily notice
these powerful jaws of fear
ravenously devouring 
the soft music 
of your untainted soul
the astonishing light 
of your gentle being

Where is the voice 
that should speak up?
Where is the saddened joy 
that wants to be expressed?

The coded dignity of your trembling hands
cruelly drowns your silence out
The quirky grace of your moist eyes
is callously loud and clear,
but here this poem ends

Penarth (taken yesterday, click on the image to enlarge it)

Listen to this.