Into the Mirror Obscura

"What is it, this mirror? It is less a mirror than a window is, yet is more of each at one time than a door through which you pass becomes a legend with a…
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"When Penguins Ruled" by K. A. Brauchler Taken Quotes, Construction Zone, Writing Poetry, Penguins, Devotions, Poems, Believe, How To Become, Understanding
"When Penguins Ruled" by K. A. Brauchler
"Rage Against the Night" by K. A. Brauchler Original Collage, Rage, Sentences, Laughter
"Rage Against the Night" by K. A. Brauchler
"And All My Selves..." by K. A. Brauchler. Self, Thoughts
"And All My Selves..." by K. A. Brauchler.
At Home with the Lone Ranger | The Mirror Obscura Mary Ellen Mark, Rare Photos, Old Photos, Vintage Photos, Vintage Portrait, Vintage Tv, White Photography, Street Photography, Portrait Photography
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At Home with the Lone Ranger | The Mirror Obscura
Small Deaths | The Mirror Obscura Dark Angel, Color Inspiration, Fall Colors, Fauna, Death, Birds, Exterior, Visual, Artist
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Small Deaths | The Mirror Obscura
Quote for a Day, April 29th | The Mirror Obscura All Nature, Science And Nature, Amazing Nature, Nature Beauty, Beautiful Nature, Tornados, Thunderstorms, Thunderstorm Clouds, Natural Wonders
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Quote for a Day, April 29th | The Mirror Obscura
Where They Come to Rest | The Mirror Obscura Storm Clouds, Sky And Clouds, Thunder Clouds, Dark Clouds, Beautiful Sky, Beautiful World, Stunning, Patterns Background, Belle Nature
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Where They Come to Rest | The Mirror Obscura
Dream like a dreamlike in sleeps unqualified Smile of envy, slumbers on like history. Kept, lain down, walked on in flight’s Migration, scarred rock down to the bone. Mitigated sights unseemly seen in scenes Plagued with heaven’s heaviness. Still the air Will not seed sown, light in short supply The tongue may taste, but no word given To disseminate or disapprove. Not one sound Soaks through.  Tundra - Óleo / lienzo, de la exposición - catálogo Tundra Pablo Picasso, Abstract Artists, Abstract Artwork, Abstract Photos, Abstract Expressionist, Painting Inspiration, New Art, Contemporary Art, Original Art
Tumblr
Dream like a dreamlike in sleeps unqualified Smile of envy, slumbers on like history. Kept, lain down, walked on in flight’s Migration, scarred rock down to the bone. Mitigated sights unseemly seen in scenes Plagued with heaven’s heaviness. Still the air Will not seed sown, light in short supply The tongue may taste, but no word given To disseminate or disapprove. Not one sound Soaks through. Tundra - Óleo / lienzo, de la exposición - catálogo Tundra
The unbroken light of surface tension,  Élan of possibilities,  Unfolds, retreats, unfolds fully now.  Caress, the first touch, a kissing gentle  Thought of yearning, then satisfies itself  By turning on an off-key tonal pause  And  Marries faith to brushing innocence.  Wish chances believing all naturalness  In circulation--its circularity is  Completion. -- Maria Leon-Ortiz Watercolor Disney, Watercolor Art, Disney Lessons, Water Pictures, Water Printing, Thomas Kinkade, Botticelli, Disney Funny, Flower Art
Body of water by Maria Leon-Ortiz
The unbroken light of surface tension, Élan of possibilities, Unfolds, retreats, unfolds fully now. Caress, the first touch, a kissing gentle Thought of yearning, then satisfies itself By turning on an off-key tonal pause And Marries faith to brushing innocence. Wish chances believing all naturalness In circulation--its circularity is Completion. -- Maria Leon-Ortiz
Exhaustion frays the dance, a permanence sublime.  Frail, seems a filament of light  Then travel through weathered thought,  Becomes  Entangled with the course, flutters, lifts, then settles  For a yearning so necessary as to be incomplete.  Wait. Waited. Waiting for desire to dispossess  The flesh, endures a renouncing touch.  Yields and in giving way, dissipates. “Thin Air” by David Fredrik Moussallem  Acrylic & Collage on wood panel Original Art For Sale, Mixed Media Collage, Collage Art, Contemporary Artists, Modern Art, Grey Art
workman's tumblr
Exhaustion frays the dance, a permanence sublime. Frail, seems a filament of light Then travel through weathered thought, Becomes Entangled with the course, flutters, lifts, then settles For a yearning so necessary as to be incomplete. Wait. Waited. Waiting for desire to dispossess The flesh, endures a renouncing touch. Yields and in giving way, dissipates. “Thin Air” by David Fredrik Moussallem Acrylic & Collage on wood panel
What's seen glances off steels’ foil, embeds And grips a terra firmas’ incipient relaxation. Tempered aqua vitae silences roiled  Round embodiments of form; cast none --Shadows in resemblances, fecund life’s Despoiled and held against incursion. Penetrates and goes nowhere but from Where it was begun.   Sachiyo Kaneko, “Wind”, ink on paper Collages, Illustration Art, Illustrations, Les Arts, Art And Architecture, Oeuvre D'art
art journal - expression through abstraction
What's seen glances off steels’ foil, embeds And grips a terra firmas’ incipient relaxation. Tempered aqua vitae silences roiled Round embodiments of form; cast none --Shadows in resemblances, fecund life’s Despoiled and held against incursion. Penetrates and goes nowhere but from Where it was begun. Sachiyo Kaneko, “Wind”, ink on paper
I spoke to him is soft tones of attonement. Wishing all the words I had not yet said could be said now, more than those I already had. He couldn't hear, or wouldn't listen. That is the thing so tricky about comas--you can decide what to hear and what not to say. No one expects anything from you except to just lie there and lie about who you really are. And exactly where you are at the moment. Andrew Wyeth Paintings, Andrew Wyeth Art, Jamie Wyeth, Claudio Bravo, Beaux Arts Paris, Digital Museum, Weird Pictures, Caravaggio, Tempera
We Love Paintings: Photo
I spoke to him is soft tones of attonement. Wishing all the words I had not yet said could be said now, more than those I already had. He couldn't hear, or wouldn't listen. That is the thing so tricky about comas--you can decide what to hear and what not to say. No one expects anything from you except to just lie there and lie about who you really are. And exactly where you are at the moment.
Swallows | The Mirror Obscura Woodcuts Prints, Linocut Prints, Art Prints, Block Prints, Bird Illustration, Relief Printing, Linocut Art, Cool Ideas
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Swallows | The Mirror Obscura
Let’s Leave That Part | The Mirror Obscura Landscape Art, Landscape Paintings, Art Plastique, Land Scape, Love Art, Art Works, Painting & Drawing, Amazing Art
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Let’s Leave That Part | The Mirror Obscura
So few are left that remember how permanent the hours were made to be, the minutes elongated to leaden the thirst by terror aroused. So they kept the seconds to themselves, like names. The precious, dire seconds to live in, hid them behind sunken eyes that stopped seeing because there was too much to see. The cautious seconds that fed a belief that the world had not gone insane. That somewhere their names  were still spoken aloud. Even as the snow of ashes, fell delicately to the ground. Holocaust Memorial Day, Holocaust Remembrance Day, Lodz, Paul Celan, Night By Elie Wiesel, World Youth Day, History Online, Unsolved Mysteries, Remembrance Day
Dying of cute
So few are left that remember how permanent the hours were made to be, the minutes elongated to leaden the thirst by terror aroused. So they kept the seconds to themselves, like names. The precious, dire seconds to live in, hid them behind sunken eyes that stopped seeing because there was too much to see. The cautious seconds that fed a belief that the world had not gone insane. That somewhere their names were still spoken aloud. Even as the snow of ashes, fell delicately to the ground.
Vernal Equinox: See Spring! Frost clings to leaves in early morning though Winter is dead. Its solstice roots still reach up to mitigate rejuvenation. They are slow to receed. This season speaks with the energy of a thousand suns, rady to rush into a space with shouts and laughter, revolt against the dark with candent strategies and songs of needs fulfilled and more, spill, overflows, feeding the light with surrounding acknowledgement. Meeting no resistance the equinoctial grazes all. Encaustic Art, Art Graphique, Claude Monet
Vernal Equinox: See Spring! Frost clings to leaves in early morning though Winter is dead. Its solstice roots still reach up to mitigate rejuvenation. They are slow to receed. This season speaks with the energy of a thousand suns, rady to rush into a space with shouts and laughter, revolt against the dark with candent strategies and songs of needs fulfilled and more, spill, overflows, feeding the light with surrounding acknowledgement. Meeting no resistance the equinoctial grazes all.
Presumption: I do not know what it is called. I do not have the words that will describe it. Does that make it any less real than if I found a thousand words. They would not necessarily make you see. But, then again, I may need only one. Landscape Artwork, Abstract Landscape, Abstract Art, Encaustic Painting, Drawing & Painting, Art D'orange, Art Texture, Orange Art, Colour Field
Presumption: I do not know what it is called. I do not have the words that will describe it. Does that make it any less real than if I found a thousand words. They would not necessarily make you see. But, then again, I may need only one.
Should I protect her shadows Or, does she need the light to hold onto That ennui only saints possess? She has her irises. Is it their beauty she desires,  Or, a lust in their dying? Does she a know  difference? The sin of pride About her beauty we both carry. What will she do When fear begins to mark The corners of her eyes?What will happen if she finds The world an ugly alley It so easily becomes, And Is no longer dream, But nightmare loose. By the vapidness in the ennui, Only saints possess? Highly Sensitive People, Emotional Awareness, Short Poems, Metamorphosis, Decir No, Cam, Meditation, Relax, Yoga
♔ JJL-BB - Expresión del alma: foto
Should I protect her shadows Or, does she need the light to hold onto That ennui only saints possess? She has her irises. Is it their beauty she desires, Or, a lust in their dying? Does she a know difference? The sin of pride About her beauty we both carry. What will she do When fear begins to mark The corners of her eyes?What will happen if she finds The world an ugly alley It so easily becomes, And Is no longer dream, But nightmare loose. By the vapidness in the ennui, Only saints possess?
As softly as I can I yell for you to dance the dance you once danced before I knew you. I want to watch the way your body moves like water falling from a great height. I want to listen to the sounds of your breathing as your body twists and pulls the night from the sky. I want there to be that time before I knew you so I may meet you once again and the world I knew was about to change forever. Photo New York, Growing Old Together, The Longest Journey, Foto Art, Street Photographers, Documentary Photographers, Belle Photo, Black And White Photography, Art Photography
As softly as I can I yell for you to dance the dance you once danced before I knew you. I want to watch the way your body moves like water falling from a great height. I want to listen to the sounds of your breathing as your body twists and pulls the night from the sky. I want there to be that time before I knew you so I may meet you once again and the world I knew was about to change forever.
A Word (after Wallace Stevens--Anecdote on a Jar) |     I buried a word in Tennessee,  Its likeness had not been heard  In a fallow field left untouched  And in mute listening around it.    A tree grew and wild it was.  It made look the lay of land  No longer simply flat with   Grasses, or without sound.    It became of all the air,  Siren called to that place.  Its flowerings bore tender flesh  And tasted of all I knew                  From everywhere. Pastel Art, Pastel Colors, Pastel Paintings, Pastels, Painting Snow, Painting Demo, Purple Trees, Queen Annes Lace, Color Studies
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A Word (after Wallace Stevens--Anecdote on a Jar) | I buried a word in Tennessee, Its likeness had not been heard In a fallow field left untouched And in mute listening around it. A tree grew and wild it was. It made look the lay of land No longer simply flat with Grasses, or without sound. It became of all the air, Siren called to that place. Its flowerings bore tender flesh And tasted of all I knew From everywhere.
The rain that had been falling  Was made of dark blue-gray light  As if the sky was weeping  A hurt it did not understand.  Somewhere in the woodland  Within a fold of  earth  Pairs of eyes kept watch  As Nature was laid to rest.  There were no special words  No prayers were said or thought.  The sun stayed away. No shadows  Were ever seen again. The only sound,  A Mockingbird singing in place  Of everyone, a song that remained  Above the canopy of trees,  A memory that never leaves. Artist Watch, Tinta China, Art Et Illustration, Editorial Illustration, Juxtapoz, You Draw, Little Red Riding Hood, Illustrations Posters
this isn't happiness.
The rain that had been falling Was made of dark blue-gray light As if the sky was weeping A hurt it did not understand. Somewhere in the woodland Within a fold of earth Pairs of eyes kept watch As Nature was laid to rest. There were no special words No prayers were said or thought. The sun stayed away. No shadows Were ever seen again. The only sound, A Mockingbird singing in place Of everyone, a song that remained Above the canopy of trees, A memory that never leaves.
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania  What sleepy of a town nestled in farms  Could know the fullness of contested beliefs  Not lay awake after the madness come so slow  In quiet and left with a broken ground of men  Crying just to die and be at peace. Green fields  Grow there now, sapling groves replanted plan  To see things back to the day before it changed  Forever into hallowed ground. Three days taken  Into a history, lifetimes to see it through to say,  Close your eyes and sleep now the days are done. Gettysburg Battlefield, Battle Of Gettysburg, American Civil War, American History, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, Gettysburg National Military Park, Confederate States Of America, Crying Man, Ghost Tour
For Once, Warren Has a Legitimate Reason to Slow Down - Emerging Civil War
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania What sleepy of a town nestled in farms Could know the fullness of contested beliefs Not lay awake after the madness come so slow In quiet and left with a broken ground of men Crying just to die and be at peace. Green fields Grow there now, sapling groves replanted plan To see things back to the day before it changed Forever into hallowed ground. Three days taken Into a history, lifetimes to see it through to say, Close your eyes and sleep now the days are done.
I Would Say--a poem that will be longer, but I couldn't wait. (in longer lines as well) Baroque Art, Classical Art, Fine Art Gallery, Erotic Art, Figure Painting, Portrait Art, Portraits, Art Music
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I Would Say--a poem that will be longer, but I couldn't wait. (in longer lines as well)
You Will Know--I will meet you again   When uncertainty   Has become archaic   Against   The solitary   Plaintive call   Of a morning thrush     And     My hands   Have become     Clouds,   Water,   Earth,   Stone.     Solid.     Then   You will know   Me   As real Oil Painting Abstract, Oil Painting Landscape, Watercolor Artists, Painting Art, Watercolor Painting, Street Art, Foto Digital, Original Art Collection
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You Will Know--I will meet you again When uncertainty Has become archaic Against The solitary Plaintive call Of a morning thrush And My hands Have become Clouds, Water, Earth, Stone. Solid. Then You will know Me As real
Close Atmospheres****  The anxiety behind your eyes  Is a bird with broken wings    Struggling to lift itself.    How awkwardly I see it  Move,  The things that once  Gave it flight  Are anvils that weigh it down,  Pinion it to earth,    In whose close atmospheres  Not even its song escapes  And will,  In time, drown. Sibylla Merian, Woodcut, Bird Art, Beautiful Birds, Printmaking, Art Journal
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Close Atmospheres**** The anxiety behind your eyes Is a bird with broken wings Struggling to lift itself. How awkwardly I see it Move, The things that once Gave it flight Are anvils that weigh it down, Pinion it to earth, In whose close atmospheres Not even its song escapes And will, In time, drown.
I see the possibilities for myths waiting  in places we never think about: an alley's end, beneath stairs, in the tracks of birds in snow, balanced in dew on a blade of grass. When stories ceased being told, legends' heros became aged. The words grew dry, blown away on winds no longer the breath of gods they served. To find them means new words for new stories. To be found for them would be to become, the soft light of resonance that marks a shafdow's cadence. Proof to us the earth still spins. Altered Books Pages, Old Book Pages, Book Page Art, Book Art, Scrapbooks, Diy Paper Butterfly
A Paper Bear Art Journal Tumblr
I see the possibilities for myths waiting in places we never think about: an alley's end, beneath stairs, in the tracks of birds in snow, balanced in dew on a blade of grass. When stories ceased being told, legends' heros became aged. The words grew dry, blown away on winds no longer the breath of gods they served. To find them means new words for new stories. To be found for them would be to become, the soft light of resonance that marks a shafdow's cadence. Proof to us the earth still spins.
You will have to forgive me, but you find me at a loss and awkward. I' m touched and impressed that you recognized me from across such a crowded room and bewildered that you remember my name, as well as some things we had done those years ago. I am very sure that we had what could be remembered as a remarkable friendship. And my birthday too? Well let's see, here's a quiz: I'll bet you can't tell me our favorite  song. Really! That takes me back to a time that I know I couldn't remember even me. Tru Colors, Roygbiv, Red Blue Yellow, Colour Board, Patterns In Nature, Color Therapy, Blue Aesthetic, Red Poppies
You will have to forgive me, but you find me at a loss and awkward. I' m touched and impressed that you recognized me from across such a crowded room and bewildered that you remember my name, as well as some things we had done those years ago. I am very sure that we had what could be remembered as a remarkable friendship. And my birthday too? Well let's see, here's a quiz: I'll bet you can't tell me our favorite song. Really! That takes me back to a time that I know I couldn't remember even me.
What is the color of the rain today? I think it is anxious just by studying the clouds. The trees impart to it a riot of affection, knowing it is in their best interests to do so. See how each leaf holds itself out to catch as many drops as it can to soften their kisses with earth.  If you were the rain and I a tree, against all natural law I would keep you from ever soaking into the soil to disappear. I would hold as much of you as my green palms could hold, or die of thirst in my trying. Nest Art, Art Abstrait, Medium Art, Mixed Media Art, Altered Art, Nature Art
Nest and Stones
What is the color of the rain today? I think it is anxious just by studying the clouds. The trees impart to it a riot of affection, knowing it is in their best interests to do so. See how each leaf holds itself out to catch as many drops as it can to soften their kisses with earth. If you were the rain and I a tree, against all natural law I would keep you from ever soaking into the soil to disappear. I would hold as much of you as my green palms could hold, or die of thirst in my trying.
Presumption: I do not know what it is called. I do not have the words that will describe it. Does that make it any less real than if I found a thousand words. They would not necessarily make you see. But, then again, I may need only one.
Presumption: I do not know what it is called. I do not have the words that will describe it. Does that make it any less real than if I found a thousand words. They would not necessarily make you see. But, then again, I may need only one.
Vernal Equinox: See Spring! Frost clings to leaves in early morning though Winter is dead. Its solstice roots still reach up to mitigate rejuvenation. They are slow to receed. This season speaks with the energy of a thousand suns, rady to rush into a space with shouts and laughter, revolt against the dark with candent strategies and songs of needs fulfilled and more, spill, overflows, feeding the light with surrounding acknowledgement. Meeting no resistance the equinoctial grazes all.
Vernal Equinox: See Spring! Frost clings to leaves in early morning though Winter is dead. Its solstice roots still reach up to mitigate rejuvenation. They are slow to receed. This season speaks with the energy of a thousand suns, rady to rush into a space with shouts and laughter, revolt against the dark with candent strategies and songs of needs fulfilled and more, spill, overflows, feeding the light with surrounding acknowledgement. Meeting no resistance the equinoctial grazes all.