Ansel Adams in 1930 had been training to become a concert pianist while considering a career as a photographer. He decided, after seeing the photographs by Paul Strand, that "the camera, not the piano, would shape [his] destiny." His mother and aunt both pleaded, "Do not give up the piano! The camera cannot express the human soul!" To which Adams replied, "The camera cannot, but the photographer can."
Orson Welles had once famously said,"A film is never really good unless the camera is an eye in the head of a poet".
The camera. A mere tool for some. An inseparable friend for most. A fiend for some. Life for a few.
Give a camera to a child and he will learn the ways of life through his glistening eyes and. Discovering the intricacies of the instrument and the simple charms of a photograph, he shall tread on the threshold of the various emotions humans are generally capable of (if not beyond). A blinding flash and the exciting and frenzied world captured into a static and relaxed stillness.
I, for one, am intimately related to my camera but there's more than what actually meets the eye. Something quite unexplainable.
So, I have decided to showcase some of my photographs through this blog just so that I can keep a tab of how life has progressed. I will freeze the world in ink. Hope to see you in it.
Cheers.:)
The Joshua Thing/Untitled
The summer was scented, saw the child it in glee.
Lay she on the emerald grass, the myriad flowers blooming wild and free.
Dressed in royal silks and a band of lilies adorning her head.
Danced merrily and giggled, with slender hands, the butterflies she lead.
Childish love imprisoned in her ebony eyes, innocence trapped in her smile.
Left it enraptured, brightened all days, to some thirsty, it was the Nile.
From the high window of the nearest tower, saw the aged highness his child with glassy eyes.
It pleasured him so, to see his Celeste but little he knew;he was none the wise.
Folks talked still, in hushed tones, that the King had greyed with the concrete of his palace.
He was not a man just, but as unfair, nothing but a crooked vine of malice.
Yet still, this affection in his heart he clutched, was a testament to the human left within.
But the reason of her glow, was this fair lad whom he'd ever treated a vermin.
The boy sat under the birch tree, philosophying morose tunes with the picollo of his.
In his tattered rags and slippers with holes, so poor he seemed as if even they were owned on lease.
The straw hat unwillingly hid his sandy locks and blue eyes.
Eyes that showed no fear but were queerly strained from cries.
For he was son to none, he felt anguish every eve, his very heart burned.
As draped in dirt now, years back in deep slumber,was found as the sentry'd turned.
The royal highness, generous with his faith, tended him though be it with his hounds.
The boy, of a month then, wouldn't have lived otherwise, it was a pity, however cruel it sounds.
Since then, seasons had circled, the Sun had seen the rain.
The world had crumbled and back again, the lad to the king turned a bane.
All of five years past ten now, and a valiant grace readily seats on his frame.
Now cried the princess,"Joshua..Oh..Josh
On she spoke,"Oh!How much I love you, the flute you play all day long.
I see you barely utter, but I know how you grieve through your song.
The stars, can't you see?foretell us being entwined.
We'll be together, the world behind us, even God'll be kind."
An innocent child she, in her urge, to cheer her beloved friend.
Never realized, a heavy dream to one in pain, she'd lent.
But then, Love always had a way, they were in it as months had smoothed past as years.
The Princess, an epitome of alluring beauty and wit, Joshua upon his stallion, an armor he wears.
Alas! It was not to be easy love, as even the moon is cursed with its marks.
The King ne'er approved, a day, he chained his "mongrel" to be fed to the larks.
The day forth, none ever heard , of the Joshua with his flute and golden blade.
Celeste wept and tore at her heart, it was met cruel fate her originator'd made.
The very life'd begun to wither her out,until the very day arrived. When her very beloved's whereabouts revealed , the very King'd been bribed.
He was left to rot in the dungeons of death, as she knew.
But the lune father sly even then'd disillusioned her view.
The night was dark, the heavens had rained blood in Grace.
For the Princess had run from comfort, to be ringed with her love who'd no trace.
"Run Celeste! Run to the shrine where he fans his doom nearing.
Pestilence strikes, mortals may lose, but you are his Goddess endearing.
All your father's men rise in pursuit, on their leather steeds they chase.
Under the stars, over the seas, they've look'd but none, in daze.
If ever him you find, ne'er lament nor you cry.
In this land of make-believe , it'll leave you dead and dry.
Run through the foliage, you'll be the light to your way, into the woods of drear.
By the roundabout, under the bridge, miles created still you're as near.
Escape through the darksome streets, where blood lathers your gentle soul.
By the last breath of the midnight wind, weeps bloody wine as well your sole.
Under the maledict shroud of stars, do you see him dying?.
Run Celeste! Run to your Joshua, it ne'er is or was any good crying.
He loves you, as the glum beauty loves the night as the day the sun.
Run to him, before the fires in the skies, with the clouds are done.
By the river, where the black swans flock his heart.
Do you see him, does your soul not then spit blood with a start.?
Run with the fire to burn your empire in thine Orphic tune.
So bright it's flame, the Sun be shy to rise, the world beweltered with your rune.
Why Celeste?Do you shed tears of secernment when your originator makes mirth.
After all, how can he be so cruel as to pierce her alive to one he gave birth.
Run, as wilted branches give sincere direction to your heart, the wolves weep in sorrowed infant cries.
The clowns on your cards laugh in the cruelest of fashion, whilst the king of your heart slowly dies.
Needs nothing but your touch of sureness, he's a congregation statue of fading hopes.
Sans your beacon, he'll hurt others than self, in the pitch he gropes.
Run over the hills, wade through the seas with thine paragon frame.
Climb the crumbling flight of fateful stairs, on your lips his name.
Ah! You've finally reached with lips dry and eyes wet, with a halo over your head.
Lovingly you clasp him so, but does it really whelm you when he's just a weight over you, dead.
Soon enough but untimely may it seem, it's of certain, will dawn upon you.
If just you had looked into your heart, but dead wounds none can sew.
If only you'd looked into your heart,
But a grave to be filled is ready dug.
If only you'd looked into your heart,
A death certain would be averted with your drug.
But writing elegies over spilled wine, etches the wounds deeper into the mind.
After all, what good is it to grieve now, when upon languid crutches I'm pined.
With me, only my sorrow disappear'd , the palace stay'd, the flute sans voice,so did the birch tree.
With my demise, an ageless lament was born, though in her palatial heart there was none a throne for me. " 'Tis the beauty of the hellish circle of virulent vindications , each morn roses with her lilies on my grave she keeps and goes.
But Celeste!By night's-fall, do you know how roses pristine silk, the lilies turn ruby red;How every drop to the King's grave beside, flows.
Life goes around in viscous circles, we move on with souls in our palms.
'Tis like a winding path back to the haven where we began, a tributary to the see that ne'er calms.
And yet came another distant summer, yet it saw another child in glee.
Lay she on the emerald grass, unknown memories blooming wild and free......................
Lay she on the emerald grass, the myriad flowers blooming wild and free.
Dressed in royal silks and a band of lilies adorning her head.
Danced merrily and giggled, with slender hands, the butterflies she lead.
Childish love imprisoned in her ebony eyes, innocence trapped in her smile.
Left it enraptured, brightened all days, to some thirsty, it was the Nile.
From the high window of the nearest tower, saw the aged highness his child with glassy eyes.
It pleasured him so, to see his Celeste but little he knew;he was none the wise.
Folks talked still, in hushed tones, that the King had greyed with the concrete of his palace.
He was not a man just, but as unfair, nothing but a crooked vine of malice.
Yet still, this affection in his heart he clutched, was a testament to the human left within.
But the reason of her glow, was this fair lad whom he'd ever treated a vermin.
The boy sat under the birch tree, philosophying morose tunes with the picollo of his.
In his tattered rags and slippers with holes, so poor he seemed as if even they were owned on lease.
The straw hat unwillingly hid his sandy locks and blue eyes.
Eyes that showed no fear but were queerly strained from cries.
For he was son to none, he felt anguish every eve, his very heart burned.
As draped in dirt now, years back in deep slumber,was found as the sentry'd turned.
The royal highness, generous with his faith, tended him though be it with his hounds.
The boy, of a month then, wouldn't have lived otherwise, it was a pity, however cruel it sounds.
Since then, seasons had circled, the Sun had seen the rain.
The world had crumbled and back again, the lad to the king turned a bane.
All of five years past ten now, and a valiant grace readily seats on his frame.
Now cried the princess,"Joshua..Oh..Josh
On she spoke,"Oh!How much I love you, the flute you play all day long.
I see you barely utter, but I know how you grieve through your song.
The stars, can't you see?foretell us being entwined.
We'll be together, the world behind us, even God'll be kind."
An innocent child she, in her urge, to cheer her beloved friend.
Never realized, a heavy dream to one in pain, she'd lent.
But then, Love always had a way, they were in it as months had smoothed past as years.
The Princess, an epitome of alluring beauty and wit, Joshua upon his stallion, an armor he wears.
Alas! It was not to be easy love, as even the moon is cursed with its marks.
The King ne'er approved, a day, he chained his "mongrel" to be fed to the larks.
The day forth, none ever heard , of the Joshua with his flute and golden blade.
Celeste wept and tore at her heart, it was met cruel fate her originator'd made.
The very life'd begun to wither her out,until the very day arrived. When her very beloved's whereabouts revealed , the very King'd been bribed.
He was left to rot in the dungeons of death, as she knew.
But the lune father sly even then'd disillusioned her view.
The night was dark, the heavens had rained blood in Grace.
For the Princess had run from comfort, to be ringed with her love who'd no trace.
"Run Celeste! Run to the shrine where he fans his doom nearing.
Pestilence strikes, mortals may lose, but you are his Goddess endearing.
All your father's men rise in pursuit, on their leather steeds they chase.
Under the stars, over the seas, they've look'd but none, in daze.
If ever him you find, ne'er lament nor you cry.
In this land of make-believe , it'll leave you dead and dry.
Run through the foliage, you'll be the light to your way, into the woods of drear.
By the roundabout, under the bridge, miles created still you're as near.
Escape through the darksome streets, where blood lathers your gentle soul.
By the last breath of the midnight wind, weeps bloody wine as well your sole.
Under the maledict shroud of stars, do you see him dying?.
Run Celeste! Run to your Joshua, it ne'er is or was any good crying.
He loves you, as the glum beauty loves the night as the day the sun.
Run to him, before the fires in the skies, with the clouds are done.
By the river, where the black swans flock his heart.
Do you see him, does your soul not then spit blood with a start.?
Run with the fire to burn your empire in thine Orphic tune.
So bright it's flame, the Sun be shy to rise, the world beweltered with your rune.
Why Celeste?Do you shed tears of secernment when your originator makes mirth.
After all, how can he be so cruel as to pierce her alive to one he gave birth.
Run, as wilted branches give sincere direction to your heart, the wolves weep in sorrowed infant cries.
The clowns on your cards laugh in the cruelest of fashion, whilst the king of your heart slowly dies.
Needs nothing but your touch of sureness, he's a congregation statue of fading hopes.
Sans your beacon, he'll hurt others than self, in the pitch he gropes.
Run over the hills, wade through the seas with thine paragon frame.
Climb the crumbling flight of fateful stairs, on your lips his name.
Ah! You've finally reached with lips dry and eyes wet, with a halo over your head.
Lovingly you clasp him so, but does it really whelm you when he's just a weight over you, dead.
Soon enough but untimely may it seem, it's of certain, will dawn upon you.
If just you had looked into your heart, but dead wounds none can sew.
If only you'd looked into your heart,
But a grave to be filled is ready dug.
If only you'd looked into your heart,
A death certain would be averted with your drug.
But writing elegies over spilled wine, etches the wounds deeper into the mind.
After all, what good is it to grieve now, when upon languid crutches I'm pined.
With me, only my sorrow disappear'd , the palace stay'd, the flute sans voice,so did the birch tree.
With my demise, an ageless lament was born, though in her palatial heart there was none a throne for me. " 'Tis the beauty of the hellish circle of virulent vindications , each morn roses with her lilies on my grave she keeps and goes.
But Celeste!By night's-fall, do you know how roses pristine silk, the lilies turn ruby red;How every drop to the King's grave beside, flows.
Life goes around in viscous circles, we move on with souls in our palms.
'Tis like a winding path back to the haven where we began, a tributary to the see that ne'er calms.
And yet came another distant summer, yet it saw another child in glee.
Lay she on the emerald grass, unknown memories blooming wild and free......................
The Black Rose
Pardon me.....
If my voice ebb away from stirs nigh your bay.
Leisure had breathe a lean compassion, as I walk this paved way.
On mine poor angst nerves, with me a lone black rose for you I take.
Time again weigh I mine feelings, whence heart flowers emotions in severest of make.
A numbness of mind, a seizure of frame, our fair smiles glare miles apart.
Stepping upon these winding walks through thine glades, waxes it this very heart.
The wind weeps in lament, a phantom of regression, it clasps.
Percutient puddles ripple through mine world, the creeks in elder trees rasp.
A black rose for you I bring, sans thorns, to grace your abode in eternal slumber.
All weeks, I stand here, a devout bent upon same pilgrimage, barefoot upon golden ember.
Spread before you, gentle petals of mine rose;From within,
Her tender shore, a fragrance ferries me near , by your grave I lean.
Once the rosebud white as swan-feathers, to you I'd gave.
How serenity morphs to narcissus, believe you I rant and rave.
But the abyss of fire has shown, once thine petals so white.
Had burnt and black'd be blown, as grave tended to light.
The reeds play music of own measure with ghastly grace.
The lake beside thine grave, ne'er it shows mine sans thine face.
Don't you wonder why the sun hides every time we meet.
Afraid it is of the amorous wills and a blinding to the eye, it greets.
Remember the day!You stepp'd out of my life in belief of taking naught.
Without me but with most of me, have you e'er given it a thought?
Subtle serenity, clad in stone, the Gods had prided upon thine creation.
Noble gravity in elaborately feigned arrogance upon modesty's fashion.
Dearest ! It's naught but an echt requiem in my sorrows.
Wonderful how a-live from a dead's memories', flecks he borrows.
Like a Believer, in you faith I'll keep.
Look, if state allows, into the darkness of my heart deep.
Cause the music emanating from mine lyre, you are.
As the air I breath'd, you were.
As the life's outlines in myriad shades, you'll be.
Dream I of an escape, a devastating freedom as from thine breath thee lay free.
Etch my name on your home, hold fortitude yet, to walk away.
Invoke, plead, beg of you to falter in grace, yet ne'er sway.
I shall join you soon, for then my rose might morph to its white.
Its petals'll dictate passionate decorum, washing away all bodily plights.
Till the filthy seasons of lust are forever gone, bliss shall lend her eternal eyes.
To behold but in momental awe, the homecoming of a love once faraway, Godly spirits'll rise.
Ne'er imagined-thine demise, submission with a curt smile, will become for me the verve.
My black rose, your beauteous grace,Creation's flaming trophy;Come delight my love.........
If my voice ebb away from stirs nigh your bay.
Leisure had breathe a lean compassion, as I walk this paved way.
On mine poor angst nerves, with me a lone black rose for you I take.
Time again weigh I mine feelings, whence heart flowers emotions in severest of make.
A numbness of mind, a seizure of frame, our fair smiles glare miles apart.
Stepping upon these winding walks through thine glades, waxes it this very heart.
The wind weeps in lament, a phantom of regression, it clasps.
Percutient puddles ripple through mine world, the creeks in elder trees rasp.
A black rose for you I bring, sans thorns, to grace your abode in eternal slumber.
All weeks, I stand here, a devout bent upon same pilgrimage, barefoot upon golden ember.
Spread before you, gentle petals of mine rose;From within,
Her tender shore, a fragrance ferries me near , by your grave I lean.
Once the rosebud white as swan-feathers, to you I'd gave.
How serenity morphs to narcissus, believe you I rant and rave.
But the abyss of fire has shown, once thine petals so white.
Had burnt and black'd be blown, as grave tended to light.
The reeds play music of own measure with ghastly grace.
The lake beside thine grave, ne'er it shows mine sans thine face.
Don't you wonder why the sun hides every time we meet.
Afraid it is of the amorous wills and a blinding to the eye, it greets.
Remember the day!You stepp'd out of my life in belief of taking naught.
Without me but with most of me, have you e'er given it a thought?
Subtle serenity, clad in stone, the Gods had prided upon thine creation.
Noble gravity in elaborately feigned arrogance upon modesty's fashion.
Dearest ! It's naught but an echt requiem in my sorrows.
Wonderful how a-live from a dead's memories', flecks he borrows.
Like a Believer, in you faith I'll keep.
Look, if state allows, into the darkness of my heart deep.
Cause the music emanating from mine lyre, you are.
As the air I breath'd, you were.
As the life's outlines in myriad shades, you'll be.
Dream I of an escape, a devastating freedom as from thine breath thee lay free.
Etch my name on your home, hold fortitude yet, to walk away.
Invoke, plead, beg of you to falter in grace, yet ne'er sway.
I shall join you soon, for then my rose might morph to its white.
Its petals'll dictate passionate decorum, washing away all bodily plights.
Till the filthy seasons of lust are forever gone, bliss shall lend her eternal eyes.
To behold but in momental awe, the homecoming of a love once faraway, Godly spirits'll rise.
Ne'er imagined-thine demise, submission with a curt smile, will become for me the verve.
My black rose, your beauteous grace,Creation's flaming trophy;Come delight my love.........
Font confront.....:P
Small font.....Medium font........Large font.....Which font.....???......This font..That font..............Damn! That's confusing..Which font do i use? :O
Wither With Life
I am a slave to consequences
But death is my ally
She craves my presence in her realms
Here my mind speaks while there already my soul lay
Life,then just tends to wither away
Lips move but only fear has the final say
Body's frozen but screams for freedom
I'll take the path angels fear to tread on
This heart beats
And it does beat itself, to pieces
When it does care about what one says
People shed tears for this dying soul
The scars on my mind have become gaping holes
They don't know what's left of me
Because it is only the frenzy around
That they can see
Still Life is a withering brightness
The meadows green and the grasses lush
The crowd jovial and the city's in a rush
Still I'll move on with my diabolic ally
Bleed myself to death if be the taste, shall I
Hope that someone special comes with a kryptonite
Will make some souls flip tonight
Hope that I die, I might
When the drizzle is quenching my veins
Death to life is just the means
Death will certainly bring me back to life
When everything desensitizes
The lights around me begin to fade
Through this endless scrutiny,everyone will wade
But I believe it's amnesia in my fleeting mind
That I die to forget every night
I sit and wait for yet another sight
Of gloom and despair taking flight
Cravings are of eternal pausement of life
These pangs are not for every other, but is a private strife
Life was a journey and not a chase
All I wish is to wither with glory and a tranquil face
I know-I'll keep on living after Death
If ever there arise the need to seek me
All you need to do is to climb over those mountains
That is ethereally greener on the other side
It, being the sole key to find Death and her ally
Neither can you escape it, nor it can you,cause there's just no alibi
Believe me now,hear me out, look into my eyes
The watch is right to get rid of my mental strife
Cause it was then as it is now
I have just begun to wither away with my life....
.
But death is my ally
She craves my presence in her realms
Here my mind speaks while there already my soul lay
Life,then just tends to wither away
Lips move but only fear has the final say
Body's frozen but screams for freedom
I'll take the path angels fear to tread on
This heart beats
And it does beat itself, to pieces
When it does care about what one says
People shed tears for this dying soul
The scars on my mind have become gaping holes
They don't know what's left of me
Because it is only the frenzy around
That they can see
Still Life is a withering brightness
The meadows green and the grasses lush
The crowd jovial and the city's in a rush
Still I'll move on with my diabolic ally
Bleed myself to death if be the taste, shall I
Hope that someone special comes with a kryptonite
Will make some souls flip tonight
Hope that I die, I might
When the drizzle is quenching my veins
Death to life is just the means
Death will certainly bring me back to life
When everything desensitizes
The lights around me begin to fade
Through this endless scrutiny,everyone will wade
But I believe it's amnesia in my fleeting mind
That I die to forget every night
I sit and wait for yet another sight
Of gloom and despair taking flight
Cravings are of eternal pausement of life
These pangs are not for every other, but is a private strife
Life was a journey and not a chase
All I wish is to wither with glory and a tranquil face
I know-I'll keep on living after Death
If ever there arise the need to seek me
All you need to do is to climb over those mountains
That is ethereally greener on the other side
It, being the sole key to find Death and her ally
Neither can you escape it, nor it can you,cause there's just no alibi
Believe me now,hear me out, look into my eyes
The watch is right to get rid of my mental strife
Cause it was then as it is now
I have just begun to wither away with my life....
You Never Tell Why.........
I'll say that relations are meant to be broken....Oops..Sorry....That goes for the law.........so...i was saying relationships seldom survive the full circle....and somewhere in the clock hand's path, after the crack has developed, it becomes all so obvious.....Then, everyone loves to speak ill and low of the counterapart......However, sometimes a certain discomfort (whether positive or negative, I still am unaware of that.....Maybe it depends on one's guilt-meter) develops....So lets see.....!
Sprawled amidst the comfort of my closure, I wake.
Virgin beginning to the life of which nothing's left or to take.
A morn "good" we started with which we commenced, a night devastating with we parted.
A blame sprung neither upon you, nor upon me, for it was us who'd upon it started.
The glory of departure yours, a tale of disgrace mine.
The petals of roses mine, the thorn laden foliage thine.
A waking blink, crumbled am I, with past day's end.
Through, the glistening ruby, the moonlight with my blood blends.
Might it be a figment, an illusion framed by mine mind.
To seek what heart desires above rest, answers to your charades, I fail to find.
Go about the day, wish of an unfulfilled lightning on me struck.
With every slow closure, a pose of you lies stuck.
By the crossroads , wait every eve, for your very breath.
A wind to my rains, a last caress to my waiting death.
Life ends with every day called, vanishes as the night falls.
Rubescent eyes, dark thoughts, shimmering masquerade of shadows appear to my calls.
Association of affection gone, now I know you a nemesis sans cause.
Retribution, thine game, a bold etalage of orgy thereafter sans a pause.
A knife, blood-stained crystal of Fate, gracing my fingers, need there be for a kill.
On the verge, I topple, almost pierces through, "Ah! What a thrill..!"
I hear thine sardonic laughs like a child.
Coldness embraced shrieks, instead of choking all riled.
On your palm, an endless wonder of lines that speak truth without sound.
In your eyes, await rusted tireless hunger looking for another prey to ground.
Dear!I hold you no more, so, have a little more of not enough.
More of what is less, isn't love no more, but of the same you're dreaming of.
Why do you kill me so, instead of staring at shortcomings.
A false faith in you I bank,knowing you'll learn to make the best of things.
Don't you remember, the day of rain, when on my shoulder you'd cried.
Wetted devastation befell, when the tears washed away thine stains of false pride.
In remembrance of thine ire, love became insatiate.
A favor for you, though misplaced justice for me, late.
But swear I, lost am I not and nor my soul.
Still at heights, wonderment of how beautiful it'd to be fall.
The graffitied altar seems like the only home.
No place of rest, no hopeful glow under your darkened dome.
Ne'er you realize that you're the one not letting the bond grow.
Without sanity or a reason, every dusk you kill me so.
Not poison or blades inferior, but with the slightest of utterance.
You kill me inch by inch, won't you be over with a wicked lance?
Amongst the schemes, all the tricks we try to play.
Only dreams will defy and hold their sway.
A bank of murky water, I behold and frown.
Not to swim through to you, but with you to drown.
This dawn a failure in you belies, for I've escaped thine frail grasp, will I not to die.
A breath by breath, drop by a drop, you e'er kill me so but you ne'er tell why..........
Winter (Vacation) Blues!! *sneezes*
Hey there! This is my first blog entry and I don't have an idea...about...er...What to write....The weather is pretty much chilly here. And I am confused.And bored.And lazy.And. Well!The list could go on like a roll of toilet paper being unfurled by a 5 years old kid.The main reason , probably, for my pathetic condition is THE Winter. I love it but don't wanna face it and probably because of my college vacations.Ah!Well.I've got the 10th Auto Expo to look forward to. Take care then.I hope that I can keep you engaged.:P
Oh!By the by....HAppy New Year..MAy this be the best one!!
Oh!By the by....HAppy New Year..MAy this be the best one!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)