Original Photography

Original photography

Cries from the dead
Hark!
Does one not hear the moans and shrieks from those laid down in the earth?
Does one not feel the severe quaking ripple through bodies?
Does one not drop to their knees and let the tears stream down and mix with the soil?
Wait.
I beg thee not to leave me, for I should surely fall into the hands of people who are no longer people!
I shall be taken and locked in a barred cage like a bird who is discarded after losing his song; made to stay by having his wings ripped off and thrown away.
Do not cry, my dear!
For once you start, I too shall be tossed into the pit of despair in which you lay – merely a lump of flesh for savage beasts to feast upon, forgotten and lonely- though, is loneliness still able to wrap its tendrils around me once I have fallen into my grave?
Hark!
I say again! Hold on to me, my love!
For I fear to be left to rot away, deprived of comfort and sanctuary and peace!
I fear of drifting off to a place where no one has returned from!
I shall grasp your hand if you will grasp mine, against all odds that try to tear me away!
Let me stay, I say! Let me stay!
I should not like to dream of leaving, for what if I should not wake up!
Would my memory stay alive, or die with me?
Promise me, please, that I shall be kept in your heart, not in a barred cage!
I would wilt and sag like a flower that is coming to an end, and I should not want that at all!
I want to stay youthful and oblivious to the cries of the dead that rouse my fears!
I want to stay cooped up and safe like a baby chick, not left to the lions!
I want to stay young for ever, not old and a step away from death!
Take my hopes and wishes and protect them I ask of you!
Even if they do take me, make sure that what I have achieved, and what I hoped to, shall never, ever, hear the cries of the dead!
Original photography

The woods (Tanka poem)
Entwining branches
Lock me in their cage of dreams.
Sleep now little one,
Let the flowers take you home.
A home nestled in the leaves.

Passion (Tanka poem)
Thoughts can not take me,
Only a willing heart can.
Like a mother’s child,
Awaiting the song of love.
A passion brighter than suns.

Original jewellery

A hobby in the form of jewellery

In 2019, I discovered what is now one of my dearest hobbies; jewellery making. Particularly earrings. I have always relished adding something uniquely me to what I wear, and being able to create even the smallest thing, through my eyes, is wonderful. I feel that my inner thoughts and feelings can be so easily expressed in a piece of jewellery, that a finished product clears my mind and sets me up for anything. It seems to boost my confidence to have on a little piece of my work to show the world. The process takes effort, but none and the same time. It challenges creativity while also allowing the mind to take a break and the heart to do the work. Yes, it may sound like the cheesiest thing ever said about earrings, sometimes the cheesiest things are the most meaningful, and sometimes the smallest touches mean a lot more than you would think.
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