Venice's Sunset

There is nothing we can do for those lost years; and there is no tomorrow.

We were bound to this state; We stole time from Venice's Sunshine, tieded to bridge after bridge.
We walked Venice...

We were able to love, in an infant past, planted in the fields that were ours, for hundreds of images; until a moment arrived before the Sunset in Venice; in one ill fated moment, past entered like a bold thief through a glance; as the present flew out through a single turn of your body.

The writer continues to write his narratives:  We have returned...

 ~ Travel Tuesday 360 ~

The Persistence of Memory

This city, like a string drawn between yesterday and tomorrow, you know all you have lost and left behind.
You cannot see what lies ahead clearly.
But a horizontal gravity thrusts you into the thick of tomorrow, to an enchanting unknown in an unfinished poem you are about to begin.
Then it will take charge of its course.

People called me a dreamer when I said that there is a type of love; stretched from dream to reality...

Have things I remembered ever happened?

In Poetically well built memory, formed from the heart's compulsions;
we are consoled not by finding ourselves returning to the city that we love,
but by losing all sense of time.

The Museum Of Innocence

Beauty and memories are inseparable; we often find love in memories.

Orhan Pamuk - The Museum of Innocence

It Snows Only Once In Our Dreams

I started reading Orhan Pamuk's writing last year in a time of deep sadness.  During those dark period, a thought of such a book - a book I looked forward to read was a consolation that helped me through...

here is Pamuk's Snow

I Sing You A Lullaby

As you asked me, I stand now in the place where you sleep.
Our friendship, love, company the farewell before those who have come; 
our butterflies holding your hands in your final journey.

Every year, when the leaves change their colors; the Autumn comes
I shall hear you whispering my name in my waking dreams...

Hurt

A good friend was dying in the hospital, I went to see him.
there was such sweet sadness, there was love; and there was happiness in love.

I felt the form of sweet sadness, just like music...  

The Return

I didn't know the water
but I planted words at its edge...
the words said what they said, then I left
I kept nothing but the rhythm, the rhythm in its wave.

On the path to the sky
the sky of my song
I was the daughter of the wind, traveling and residing
among the people of the sea...

One day, I heard the words which I planted at the edge of the water speaking
I felt the pulse of the alphabet in the echo
I forgot who I was so that I could be...

Now I return from a window, looking out in two directions
can I return as I left?
only knowing that the words I planted had grown into trees.

It is Autumn.

Private Rendezvous

The past approaches you.
a magical albatross gently descends and wraps its wings around you;
and gathers you in like one of its young.
you fly together along the winding coast that shifts between white and blue...
you both alight painlessly in the path of the ancients that stand like angels upon the road.

But loud voices suddenly wake you:
what are you doing here, have you home or family?
you realize that you were dreaming.

I have a splendid dream that precedes poetry,
as if a kiss were the private rendezvous...

I Dreamed A Dream

Romeo: I dreamed a dream last night.
Mercutio: And so did I.
Romeo: Well, what was yours?
Mercutio: That dreamers often lie.
Romeo: In bed asleep while they do dream things true.

― William Shakespeare 

Sweet And Heady

Lilac wine is sweet and heady, where's my love?
Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, where's my love?
Listen to me, why is everything so hazy?
Isn't that she, or am I just going crazy, dear?

Basilica of the Holy Cross of the Valley of the Fallen

The Valle de los Caídos "Valley of the Fallen" is a Catholic basilica and a monumental memorial in the municipality of San Lorenzo de El Escorial, near Madrid, conceived by Spanish general Francisco Franco to honor and bury those who fell during the Spanish Civil War.

In 1960, Pope John XXIII declared the underground crypt a basilica. The dimensions of this underground basilica, as excavated, are larger than those of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. 

The visit to the Valley of the Fallen, including Basilica and Benedictine Abbey, was an unexpected precious memory.  

Sometimes, Life rewarded us with beautiful dreams of love...

linking to Weekend Reflections

 Basílica de la Santa Cruz del Valle de los Caídos, España

The Most West Corner Of Europe ~ In Portugal

 Aqui, onde a terra se acaba e o mar começa...

Here, where the land ends and the sea begins...

       / Luís de Camões, Os Lusíadas /

The Cabo da Roca lighthouse, overlooking the promontory towards the Atlantic Ocean.

 Belita and I arrived at the most west point of Europe around sunset time, 
it was breathtakingly beautiful...  

 Monument declaring Cabo da Roca as the westernmost extent of continental Europe.

Cabo da Roca, Portugal

linking to Creative Challenge   Scenic Weekends

 

A Dream In Black & White

all I've ever done is dream

I never tried to be anything other than a dreamer

even in a dream of black and white - is full of poetry

 linking to Shadow Shot Sunday 2      Weekend in Black & White

photo taken at Alcobaça Monastery, Portugal

Summer Dream

I dreamt, and still dream up to the last stretch of the dream
that a flower had grown on my hand
I embraced and smelled the flower; and the scent of Southern summer wind
then - the sunrise came!

last night
that flower returned to me in a dream

linking to Tuesday Muse   Texture Tuesday

Simple Pleasure

this simple line leads to that distant happiness

I used to wake up early taking a long walk along the lake...

linking to Monday Mellow Yellow

Lively Madrid

~ To me, Madrid has always been full of life ~

linking to NF Inspiring Photography  Night Shot Monday

Sweet Avila

The writer José Martínez Ruiz, in his book El alma castellana (The Castilian Soul), described it as "perhaps the most 16th century city in Spain", and it was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1985.

Avila loves me...  :)

share with Scenic Weekends   Mandarin Orange Monday

A Shadow's Dream

sunset - unbearable beauty

the memory of another sleep

a kiss carved into this shadow's dream 

~ This is sunset at Temple of Debod in Madrid.  January 2013 ~

linking to Photo Friday

Sweet Avila III ~ A Kiss

When that season passed,

lovers stepped out of us.

The image of love reveals itself; 

in a profoundly present absence.

linking to  NF Inspiring Photography