Take on Life

Is it the camera or the eye that takes the photo, is it the scene or the observer that creates the magic?

I think that perhaps each photograph holds a little of the photographer, it captures a moment that only they witnessed, in a way it captures their soul. It certainly captures how they see life, what speaks to them and through their photography, they speak to us.

As we walk through life we come across many scenes, many stories to be told. It is the observer that connects, it is the observer that tells the story in whatever art form, they are the channel.

Does the flower open for the photographer, scene unfold for the painter and move for the writer, poet or dancer. Are we capturing moments or are they simply occurring just for us.

I feel nature talks to us, it gives us messages, it teaches and if we feel we understand those messages, we capture them and pass them on. Photos are like memories, they capture moments in time, they take us back and add beauty to the world on a cloudy day. Photos like any other stories are quite simply our take on life.



I really don’t know much at all about photography, all my shots are taken on my trusty iPhone, I’m just pondering the question that maybe you can answer ūüôā





I see a hand that’s withered, 

frail and getting old.

Clinging onto memories, 

some stories left untold.

The table that you sit on, 

an ancestor for sure.

Down into the forest, 

there’ll be many more.

Once you waved from branches, 

now crumbling away.

A topic of the artists mind, 

in his art you’ll stay.

~ Liza


The Energy of Art

I read my favourite poem aloud,

I read it from the book.

Traced my hand across the words,

I didn’t need to look.

I see my painting on my wall,

she looks back at me.

The woman in the painting,

so real it’s as if she can see.

Then the book beside my bed,

I’ve read so many times.

I wonder why I read it again,

I know the ending lines.

The photos of my family,

smile out from every shelf.

Reminding me I’ll be okay,

never just here by myself.

These items carry energy,

more than just from a tree.

The energies so powerful,

for the joy it brings to me.




I’m giving up my body

and passing you my mind,

I want to be possessed by you

my soul I’m trying to find.

Please use my hand and paint a scene,

by opening up my heart.

Write poetry that lights a fire,

I’m ready now to start.

Or use my voice, speak through me,

the words I do not know.

Blend the colours of my heart

for the creation of my soul.

I’m leaving here, there’s space for you,

my mind is open now.

Exist through me, live through me,

possess and show me how.



Ghost of my Existence 

The ghost of my existence, weighs heavy on my mind.

On what I’ve given to this life, I’m finding hard to find.

I was selfish most the journey, put my own needs first.

If only I had remembered, what I came her for at birth.

Entering my Autumn years, the harvest has show to me.

All the things I should have done and couldn’t really see.

I wish to make amends now, to those whose love endured.

Who loved me despite my selfishness, I need to even score.

I’ll return to you in times of need, I’ll not depart this land.

Until I’ve paid you back in full, I hope you will understand.

Response to daily prompt – Ghost