Photoetryby Rosangela C. Taylor
Photoetry is not only art; it’s an elegant communication with the world and with our higher self.
This is my special blend of photo & poetry.
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Creative expressions relax the mind and allow us to recognize the forgotten beauties in life. The fur of a cat, the center of an orchid, the craters of the moon, the shape of the clouds, the texture of a leaf, gatherings, food colors and shapes, and all daily wonders that we (so many times) take for granted. See more of my photos on Instagram, @pictorial_spells.
The photos featured here were made with a Canon SX20, 12.1 MP, a smartphone Samsung Galaxy S5, and most recently with a Galaxy S10, which has a great camera for what it is.
Sometimes I edit my photos with PaintShop Pro, Gimp and other free platforms and apps, but usually my photos are displayed in their original form. The idea is to capture and share what the eyes see, under that particular and real light, color, and shape. What you see in most of my photos is the real captured moment.
As for the poetry, I’ve been writing since my teens. Of course, the style has changed a lot and keeps changing as new experiences come about. I’ve been matching many of my existing poems with existing photos, and when I feel highly inspired I write something new for an old photo, or I make a new photo for an old poem.
My motto is: keep creating to remain inspired, and keep inspiring the world!
NOTE: All photos and poems here are copyrighted by Rosangela C. Taylor. Feel free to copy and share them, without modification. And please, give credit where credit is due. Thanks!
I prefer the fresh air
I prefer to be up there
I prefer the trees in bloom
I prefer the moon.
I prefer summer and fairies
I prefer to slumber on the prairies.
I prefer tasty meals
I prefer head over heels
I prefer good wine,
so I don’t whine.
I prefer the cosmos
over the cosmetics.
I prefer the ethics.
I prefer to write
I prefer to be bright
I prefer the smart brain
I prefer to kiss in the rain
I prefer to be warm
I prefer to transform.
I prefer an open heart
to make love and make art
I prefer your magic smile
for a good long while.
I prefer timeless power
rather than a powerless hour.
I prefer to be free,
free to prefer, free to be.
I long that spring-time date
when I turned ninety-eight.
There wasn’t much to bloom
but harmony filling the room.
My senses were more awake;
the vision, more acute and clear.
While smiles were never fake,
were white, young, from ear to ear.
I was stronger, inside and out
I feared no more, I saw no fault
in the world, or in myself.
Everything was as it should be
with or without my help;
everything was perfect for me.
I was free from third-party concepts
and mass ideas that everyone accepts,
I was more confident; I didn’t give a hoot
I was at peace, non-reactive and astute.
I long that time when I was young
with abundance of time, at ninety-eight
but somehow, from there, I was flung
to another dimension and time gate.
And here I sit, turning forty-nine
looking back into space and time,
seeing the reflection of what I was
at ninety-eight, simply sublime.
But then, there was a pause.
A still moment. And retraction.
I heard steps, whistles and applause.
They were waiting for my reaction.
They were the years to come
and also the years gone.
My personal eon.
And then some.
Looking in the mirror,
I saw another mirror
and two lives at the same time,
when I turned forty-nine.
Self-Portrait of a Soul
Who Am I?
Warm, friendly, cheerful,
Analytic, self-critic, thoughtful.
A practical person, objective and outgoing,
also mysterious, subjective, and poetic.
Crabby when I’m hungry;
when sleepy, I’m grumpy.
I feel sad and old if I’m cold.
I speak fast,
I can’t stand too much rest.
I’m passionate, positive, curious,
eager for learning, for action…
I aim for perfection.
or shy. Introspective…
I like to fly –
just a draft
in the sky.
Waiting for the Rainy Day
There is a longing, a drought, a thirst
a crave for rain, drops of hope
happiness in a burst
a way to cope.
Rain on this field
soak it, make it yield,
open this flower, make it bloom,
inundate it, don’t wait for the new moon.
Joy of Flying
I’m getting ready to fly.
If birds can, so can I.
Life goes by,
in a blink of the eye.
And if again I die,
that holds me loose and high!
And lucky that knight,
who once held me tight.
Sestina for Onions
To the kitchen I go
to fix dinner and think
maybe the six words, in a blink
would come to me in a flow.
Six words to write
without much of a fight.
I realized then it was hard. I had to face the fight
inside my mind, no other place to go.
I thought, thought… and I couldn’t write
as I chopped the onions, I couldn’t even think!
Onions brought tears that started to flow
and my eyes hurt at every blink.
Could I ever write a Sestina, in a blink?
I was wondering how long I should fight
with the onions, more tears to flow
and more words, so much yet to go!
Imagination ran wild, a thousand things to think!
I can’t decide what to write!
About onions? Tears? Talent to write?
I had then my eyes closed, after a long blink
because this way was easier to think.
I decided to write about a fight
between a knife and an onion, which doesn’t want to go
to the pan and follow the cooking flow.
It should be grand for onions to follow the flow
and be one with those who they feed and write
about their power to bring tears, as they go
from whole to chopped, in a blink.
In fact, it should be no fight,
that’s what I think!
But onions are special, they make me cry and think
life is also like onions, if you go with the flow.
You don’t need to fight,
just be cool, feel it and write.
And when you blink
you’ll see, it’s time to go!
Just go, without too much to think
Appreciate life in each blink, along with the flow
And write whatever you feel, there is no need to fight!
if that astrological chart
was ever right
on that part
about my wild heart.
about travels galore
for fifteen years or more
meeting tons of people
and soaring like an eagle.
what the stars really wanted to show
how much wilder my heart could go
how many inner trips I’d forgo,
for all the meaning was only inside
no matter what, they were in my mind.
All the travels,
and all people,
and that who I adore
it all unravels.
Now I am an eagle
and eagerly I soar.
More coming soon!
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The Last Drop
All photos and poems here are copyrighted by Rosangela C. Taylor. Feel free to copy and share them, without modification. And please, give credit where credit is due.