Jennifer and Resa’s Velvet Tango…
It’s a gluttony of beauty.
In the middle of a Pandemic, Jennifer, who is not a professional model, modelled an Art Gown. Why? Well, I helped mentor her into the Costume department in the film biz. This was her idea of a payback.
It was a first class thrill to see Velvet Tango on Jennifer. I only took around 1200 pics. It’s taken me weeks to choose the best 130, then pare that down to the ones you see in this post.
It was an overcast day. The above shot was taken when the sun came out briefly, but I don’t understand why it is so very different. There were about 6 shots that came out like this.
Bewitched by all the choices, I decided to post them in the location order that they were taken. We started on the fire escape.
Above is the only gust of wind during…
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The night is wet
drops of rain glisten
on the slick sidewalks.
In my hurry I dodge
the dark puddles that
Glisten in the misty glow
of amber street lamps
There is a trace of rosy
blood where I have bitten
my lip but my eyes brim
with life and nonsensical love
When we meet we smile
and kiss silvery lashes
The taste of blood rose on
For the moment we forget
You want too much and
I will take whatever you give.
” I love you, I love you,
Like a fool, like a soldier
Like a movie star
I love you, I love you
Like a wolf, a king,
Like a man that I am not.
I love you like that”
*English lyrics to” je t’aime ” written by Serge Gainsbourg
“Happy Anniversary with WordPress.com!You registered on WordPress.com 8 years ago.Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging”.
That’s a long time… I hope you will endure some visits to my archives and enjoy the reblogs of other amazing writers, authors, poets, photographers, artists that we have in abundance at WP.
Have Gangsta rats taken over? I can think of a few names.
“Last of Banksy”? No worry, as far as I know Banksy is alive and well. I’m just running out of material. Banksy’s. No fear. Plenty of other stuff. Those are my last photos of Banksy’s fab’ expo last year in Paris. Enjoy.
“Fly, fly…” sang Nat King Cole in a – oh so – distant past.
Wagner’s Walkyries come to mind. Apocalypse “now”?
I can’t help but feeling concerned that the Tramp claims the “support of 200 generals”. Correct me if I’m wrong, isn’t the Army pledged to the Constitution first and foremost?
Artificial intelligence. The way of the future… Have you tried making an appointment with any service provider lately? “Press 16 if you want to talk to a…
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A little reminder or heads up to those who have missed Frank from “aFrank Angle”. After a brief break Frank is back in full force at https://beachwalkreflections.wordpress.com/.
Frank invites us along on his thoughtful and energizing beach strolls to share his reflections on life. Frankly I can attest to the beauty of this experience. Hats off to my beach friend and I hope you will join him on his journey when he officially opens for business on October 20th. You can sign up today. Welcome back dear Frank. You have been missed. I’m thrilled to find you have returned to share the beauty of a Beach Walk.
I wonder about your kiss
does it taste of honeyed oranges
summer has turned to fall and
my hair is the color of autumn leaves
for you I’ve a garland of abalone that
I plucked from the banks of the river
Though I have wrapped you in the
warm breeze of my embrace
I fear we will never kiss
still memory loves you
The poet Louise Gluck has become the first American woman to win the Nobel prize for literature in 27 years, cited for “her unmistakable poetic voice that with austere beauty makes individual existence universal”.
I’ve unfastened knots
expunged cruel disputes
expelled grief to an acceptable level
Hidden sadness behind a wink and smile
cast all doubts out to sea
We’ve conquered the boundaries of both hemispheres
where we traveled half-blind in the mist
Let me have you hold you adore you once more
and if it don’t work out then you can tell me goodbye.
A heart can fall like a suicide descending shades of midnight frozen blossoms on an icy lake a silent breeze of despair Let my tongue flirt like a butterfly among wildflowers rather than polish scars de-bride old wounds