Tag: Sofia

Original photography

The beach

Shimmering bodies dance in blue, like ladies in a musical. Sand like sprinkles on an iced cake, blankets on top like cherries. Clouds like cotton candy one day, other times menacing grins. Skies of different colours, changing with my mood. Drifting with the waves, the atmosphere moved. Chaos blending in harmony to create what can only be known as the beach.

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 photography

Photo #16

The Queen of arguments

Arguments flaring with no real fuel, setting alight figurative buildings for the sake of ones enjoyment. The opponents coming with a spread of answers and questions to throw in her direction. Alas, my Queen, she may fall this time if her sharp tongue does not sneer in the right way, or if her words are mellowed and empty. My fair Queen, do not revel … Read More The Queen of arguments

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 … Read More A hobby in the form of jewellery

What could have been

Wondering about what could of been, Living what I wonder. The bars that keep me out of harm, While crushing what defence I have. Rhythmic clanks and metallic tastes, Wrap me in their cold clutches. Clammy fingers blocking vision, taking away a world that could have been.

Wandering (Haiku)

I want to be here, But my wandering mind won’t, I try but can’t stay.

Talking

Talking, but the words I utter dissolve before making an impact. Singing, but my melodies are background noise, not payed attention to. Crying, but emotion doesn’t slice into the hearts of onlookers; instead, they watch on as though my pain were merely an ant on a leaf. Dancing, but my feet are numb, stepping in a rhythmic yet dull patter; a pattern that goes … Read More Talking

Original Photography

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