Beyond Point and Shoot- PrizeIt is commonly thoughtBeyond Point and Shoot- Prize8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Among the non-artistic type
That taking pictures is easy
So whats with all the hype?
What is photography really
But the search for a good shot-
You point a camera, click a button
And then see what youve got
To an outsider it seems simple;
They wonder how hard it could be
But a true photographer knows-
Its about the struggle to go beyond what you see
Its much more than taking a picture
Its not just point and shoot-
There are angles and colors to consider;
Great photos are more than just cute
Great photos are not just snapshots-
They let you see in a different way
They let you look from another perspective
They even expand on what you see every day
So before you say photography
Is too simple to be real art
Think about the focus, the lighting
And what the best photos can do to your heart
A Love StoryA Love StoryA Love Story8 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I was stretched out on the couch, zoning out on a Saturday afternoon watching TV. My wife, Bee, came in from working in the yard and asked, "How does Outback sound for supper?"
"Sounds good," I supposed.
"You want to go pick it up?"
"Ummmm..." It's a thirty minute drive, each way, to Outback. I had done an "all-nighter" Friday, working until around 6 AM. I wasn't sure I could muster up the energy to make the trip.
Bee didn't offer to go herself, but headed for the shower. When she came out I kept waiting, hoping that she would volunteer go to pick up supper. Instead, she went to the kitchen and started puttng together leftover roast beef for my supper, and made bacon and eggs for herself.
After I ate, I took my plate to the kitchen, and trying to say just the right thing I told her, "That was every bit as good as Outback!"
"Mine was every bit as good as Waffle House," she repl
everydaY changEeverydaY changE7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
if the sandy tail wind has
dug holes in your back,
life is the ocean where
Snowflake.Snowflake.6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
December is here
to kill my hope.
The white snow
just wants to cover
the bloody ground
of my heart.
The chill wind
sorrounds me in the little forest
and I never felt so alone.
I am nothing now
just a stupid useless already melted snowflake.
Do you remember the happy days of summer?
When we both ran and smiled?
Do you remember the joy
we shared together?
Now I am a snowflake.
No more light for me,
no more warm,
no more life.
I am only a snowflake.
And do you know what snowflakes do?
They die all the time.
My Homophobia experiencesHomophobiaMy Homophobia experiences5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Ever wonder what is on the other side of Homophobia?
Try to imagine
You are in the second grade,
And tell a girl she is pretty and you "like like" her.
She looks at you funny, says, "My mommy says people like you go to hell."
You cant comprehend,
Isnt this normal?
Sure the other girls have boys they like. But you...You dont understand.
Time passes. You're in the fifth grade. The dance is coming up. You want to ask this really cute girl.
But now you understand...
You are as weird as they say. So, You ask a boy. He takes you, and you're miserable...watching the girl you like being held by a boy.
You dance, when someone whispers in you partner's ear. He pushes you off and yells, "Dyke!" His crew laughs and the girls throw things, punch you, bruise your arms to teach you the sins.
You go to the car...your mom asks what happened, she knows it was probably your step-father again
The last call of the funnelsThe last call of the funnels7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Short is the road between the two towns, snuggled next to each other like doves and the bus stops chop it to pieces small as tissues. Asphalt hissing under the tyres glides behind dirty windows most days. Faster, faster the vehicles urge each other under factory clouds.
Down the road was walking a middle-aged woman, tall and lean, in whose eyes shimmered the pieces of a broken youth and her fingers were yellow from the cigarettes and the candles.
She had seen these skies roll in patches between the bus ceiling and the industrial skyline many times. The bus would chug at the turns, dive in circles from the bubbling fields of her village to the glittering factory walls of the neighbour town.
Lots of lives have slowly melted in those circles. Lots of nursery rhymes have sunk in the torn seats never to be heard again.
Once, when she was still 16, she had looked at the water drops glued like caterpillars on the bus window and had sworn to fly away from these circles, this endless shuf
AutomnAutomn9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A season of joy and sadness
must somehow come your way,
to see the gentle changes
that come and go each day.
The leaves that change their color,
will die and fall to earth,
and squirrels will gather their food
agenst the winter's dearth.
The birds will leave their homeland,
to find a warmer clime,
the days will be getting shorter
and rob us of our time.
Yes Autumn is upon us,
I can feel it in the air,
a season of joy and sadness,
that all of us must share.
The last ghost storyThe last ghost story7 years ago in Mystery & Suspense More Like This
Die. Ghosts cannot forgive.
Her name was Renée and she always wore black Lolita dresses with white spots.
She hated flowers they got in her way when she danced wildly on the lawn, a stereo planted between the ficus and the pink tulips.
She didnt hate menstruation, she had a seven-year-old daughter and she made the best cookies in the neighbourhood.
At the age of ten she blew the icon-lamp under the Virgin Marys smiling face and wished to never grow up.
Over the yells of her parents and the sound of breaking dishes her whispered prayer was heard.
Sometimes, her best friend, the baby-sitter, would tell her through the bathroom door: Renée, the child wants to say goodnight to you. Come now, sweetheart, and I promise Ill track that bastard down and Ill kill him with my b
New Year's Eve, 1999New Year's Eve, 19998 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
New Year's Eve, 1999
On New Year's Eve in 1965 a young couple stood before a minister in the house
of the young man's parents. The house, now long since gone, built around the
turn of the century, stood in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia, many miles from
the Charlottesville, Virginia, home of the young woman.
The gathering there included only the young man's family, all of whom must
have been skeptical about the chances for the success of the marriage beginning
that day. The couple had known each other only about four months, and had spent
most of those four months separated by hundreds of miles of telephone line.
She had ridden the train to Atlanta a few days earlier, back when train lines
had names; this line had been called the "Nancy Hanks." He picked her up at
Union Station, a magnificent depot, now also long since gone. He spotted her
coming up the enormous marble stairs from the platform to the main floor, also
marble. It was a beautiful scene, this pretty girl coming t
A Home of CrueltyA Home of Cruelty9 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Dawn brushes across the roof tops of the houses in the neighborhood. Light gleams off the window to the living room and shines in my eye. I raise my head, squinting in the light, and climb out of the hole I have been digging for the past few weeks. Another day in the yard. Another day of hell.
The flesh of my neck burns with each movement, but I know better than to whine or whimper. I can hear the Master up already. He doesn't like my whimpering. Just like he doesn't like his woman's crying, or his child's yelling. It just makes life worse for all of us. So I stay quiet. Not for me, but from them. Sometimes he beats them to make me stop, instead of hurting me directly. I never know when he will do which. I don't test it anymore. I just keep silent in the yard and wait to see if I will be fed today. If any of us will be fed.
In case of emergencyIn case of emergency6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As I fall farther
Please do not resuscitate
Just let me drown
I feel like I've lost my light
An endless plight to my mind
The unending gap
And still this pain prevails
It never fails
I'm at a crossroads
Attempting to hope
To make the noose
You need the rope
Darkness is prevalent
The light not extinguished
Simply over powered
Does this make me a coward?
I don't ask for much
Then again, I don't deserve such
I know we're supposed to be independent
Find our own light
I've said it so many times before
But what do you do when you lose yourself?
When the darkness prevails
Straight to the core
I dare not to say I can't take anymore
For this hope lives in me
Such a powerful word, forever
And then having no choice but to sever
But the hope lives on
Even when everything else is gone
Shrouded in shadow
Like broken pieces
Look at my heart,
See the creases
Mindle Goes To SchoolMorning came and Becky rolled over onto her side. She was tired and didn't want to go to school. She was just about to fall back to sleep when something landed on the bed beside her. It was Mindle. He looked at her with his big round froggy eyes and blinked.Mindle Goes To School9 years ago in Children and Teen More Like This
"Oh. Hi Mindle" She whispered
"We going to school today?" Asked Mindle.
She was just about to say no and pretend to be ill when she saw the excitement on his face.
"Yeah sure we are Mindle" she said with a smile.
Becky and Mindle had been great friends for a long time and mindle had gone everywhere with her except school. She had always promised him she'd take him one day. She lifted herself out of bed and dressed. Mindle hopped after her down the stairs to breakfast. They sat at the table eating a banana and for Mindle a fly or two. And they chatted telepathically as Becky's mum didn't know the truth about Mindle. They set off for school a little while later and as they neared the school gate Becky put Mindle into her pocket but s
About MeMy full name is Rivka Temima Kellner, though in Israel it would be pounced Ree-vka Temeema .About Me7 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
I was born in Newportnews Va. In 1975 to my father a professor of Jewish thought and my mother then a nurse and my brother Avinoam who was then four days shy of four [I think he wished I came with a clear return policy].
When I was three we came to Israel for a year that we spent in Jerusalem and the second floor of the same building my parents live in to this day.
The next year we spent in Richmond Va. I have fuzzy memories of that year. A bit from kindergarten and the synagogue and my slide in the back yard, also bits and pieces of the surgery to fix crossed eyes.
We moved to Israel when I was five, so I don't really remember learning Hebrew. I still have friends I met that year in kindergarten. We were now living in the ninth floor of the same building a year later when I was in first grade in Rambam [Maimonides] primary school a state fund
Purple IrisPurple Iris10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
|| Purple Iris ||
I do not know how to describe it now,
Beautiful nature limitless that night;
The cascading gold at the mountain peak;
The shimmering silvers against the stars;
Emanating emeralds ethereal
Blessing the sights whose eyes lay upon them;
A ruby cave silent, but whispering
"Forever I seek you, Purple Iris".
Moonflowers sway in the caressing wind
Chanting the whisper across silent lands.
Lavender buds scenting the atmosphere;
The Wild Roses hear the Moonflowers' chant,
They channel the message to the river
To carry it where winds would never reach.
The ruby cave awoken; now humming
"Forever I seek you, Purple Iris".
A humming bird quenches from the river,
Took off to relay the message across
This distant, foreign land where trees swing free.
From a flowering tree, the bird seeps his
Nectar, humming a song to the trees' veins.
The trees listen, and swing to call new winds.
The ruby cave hopeful; deep in prayer;
"Forever I seek you, Purple Iris".
Above the woods, a mountain r
I don't know what I thinkA doctor that had been seeing an 80-year-old womanI don't know what I think7 years ago in Humor More Like This
for most of her life finally retired.
At her next checkup, the new doctor told her to bring
a list of all the medicines that had been prescribed
As the young doctor was looking through these, his
eyes grew wide as he realized she had a prescription
for birth control pills.
'Mrs. Smith, do you realize these are BIRTH CONTROL
pills?' 'Yes, they help me sleep at night.'
'Mrs. Smith, I assure you there is absolutely NOTHING
in these that could possibly help you sleep!'
She reached out and patted the young Doctor's knee.
'Yes, dear, I know that.
But every morning, I grind one up and mix it in the
glass of orange juice that my 16 year old
granddaughter drinks..................................And believe
me, it helps me sleep at night.'
You gotta love Grandmas!
Broken againBroken again7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I run my fingers up and down my arms,
Rolling over all the old scars.
Staring into traffic
Watching the cars
As they fly past me
And I wonder to myself
"What's stopping me?"
I look back on my past
And hope for a better today
A better tomorrow
A better future
I take my steps forward as
I start down the street,
Down my wrist again.
Puddles of water,
Puddles of blood,
They pool around me.
And the rain falls from the sky
Like the tears I cannot cry.
It burns inside me like acid,
Fueling a burning and painful hell
I've come to know all too well
And know it rather as me.
My living moments.
My time between when I am born
And so very pleasantly
Headlights pass by me
As the light from the lamp
Reflects back from the razor.
I light another cigarette
As i light the gunpowder keg inside again.
T-minus 10 seconds and counting.
I feel my heart break
As it always did before.
I want and i reach for it,
But like a young child,