Pillars #writephoto




Voices resonate here, voices from the present, but also voices from the past, maybe from a long gone past. Those who erected these pillars knew how to build, to last. Their footsteps, perhaps even the sound of their tools, chiselling the stone, can still be heard.

A little further, the sun shines in the courtyard. Did they hold councils here, did the walls hear judgements, or laughter, or even the sound of water rising? Where did they go? Did they leave their work behind, did they travel far, did they leave our world? Were they time-travellers?

Splash #writephoto




We loved the sound of the big stone falling into the clear water, we loved the endless ripples, afterwards, in the little pool. The light reflected on the sharp green ferns, the fresh grass, as the whole nature spelt: Spring!

We were young, we got wet, we looked at our reflections, as if our future would suddenly appear, as the water surface went back to a calm mirror.

Sometime we saw shadows, behind our smiling faces, as if ghosts awaken by the splash had come up to check who dared disturb the peace…

The moon admires reflections in bedraggled streets…


dust moats
in my reading light


Night whispers love
across the sky
morning blushes


I stretch
the old book spine
cracks in half


Wind chimes stir
birds startle
moon mirrors silent


Sun sets
behind the ocean
a wet peach


occluded moonlight
caught in a stone
framed in silver


no silver coins in ponds
the wind billows
her kimono


Blue stone cobbles
singular footfalls
detection afoot


The moon admires
in bedraggled streets


OpenLinkNight ~ Week 45

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