September in Suburbia, Part Ten, The Last Day of September, One

“I want to say something so embarrassing about September that even the leaves start blushing and turning red.” Jarod Kintz

September in Suburbia, Part Ten, The Last Day of September, One

Today
Is the final day
For the Autumn month
Of September

You were soft
You were warm
You were colourful
Your were plentiful

Did not promise much
But delivered more
And as such
I truly you adore

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World Wide Wednesday 2015-09-30

“People don’t take trips – trips take people.” John Steinbeck

World Wide Wednesday, Around the World in Black and White and Colour

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A glimpse into the archives of photography from around the world from Rantings Of A Third Kind on Wednesdays.

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Posts so far:

Around the World in Black and White, First Edition

Around the World in Black and White, Second Edition, Part One

Around the World in Black and White, Second Edition, Part Two

Around the World in Black and White, Second Edition, Part Three

Around the World in Black and White Presents: Third Edition: Rhodes Island, Part One

Around the World in Black and White Presents: Third Edition: Rhodes Island, Part Two

Around the World in Black and White Presents: Fourth Edition: Rhodes Island, Part One

Around the World in Black and White Presents: Fourth Edition: Rhodes Island, Part Two

Around the World in Black and White Presents: Fifth Edition: Cyprus

Around the World in Black and White Presents: London in the Rain

Around the World in Black and White Presents: London

World Wide Wednesday Presents: Natural History Museum, London

World Wide Wednesday Presents: Helsinki City Centre in Black and White

World Wide Wednesday Presents: Athens, Acropolis

World Wide Wednesday Presents: Mallorca, Part One

World Wide Wednesday Presents: Mallorca, Part Two

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World Wide Wednesday Presents: Mallorca, Part One

“Travel becomes a strategy for accumulating photographs” Susan Sontag

World Wide Wednesday Presents: Mallorca, Part One

Palma Nova
The sweetest Rosa
Of the island Mallorca

Welcomes
The weary traveler
A world’s passenger

Come
And take a load off
Forget all that scoff
Enjoy the sunny beach
Watch the waves breach

Colourful and vibrant
Like a water hydrant
The little village by the sea
No better place to be

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September in Suburbia, Part Eight, Leaves

Poetry and Photography

Posted in response to The Clinic-Photo Rehab hosted by Lucile De Godoy

“Now Autumn’s fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt” William Allingham

September in Suburbia, Part Eight, Leaves

Leaves on the trees
Leaves on the ground
Even at my doorstep
Can they be found

Autumn’s foliage
Soon turning to dust
Still enough for joliage
And enjoy it I must

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September in Suburbia, Part Seven

Poetry and Photography

Posted in response to The Clinic-Photo Rehab hosted by Lucile De Godoy

 

“With my middle-class metabolism, the suburbs were where I always wanted to be” Susan Isaacs

September in Suburbia, Part Seven

Night time in Suburbia
There is no time for hysteria
Streetlights the only spots of bright
Against the darkest of night
Sidewalks empty and quiet
A few signs marked private
Walking past the darkened windows
Occupants asleep, dreaming of tomorrow
The moon hiding behind clouds
No one to see, no one to watch
So, stepping on the grass is allowed
If I through away my crutch
Take a little chance
And do a little barefoot dance
In the middle of the night
On the streest of Suburbia

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Moon, Bloody Super Moon

Poetry and Photography

Posted in response to The Clinic-Photo Rehab hosted by Lucile De Godoy

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The supermoon is a 16-inch pizza compared with a 15-inch pizza. It’s a slightly bigger moon; I ain’t using the adjective ‘supermoon.’ Neil deGrasse Tyson

Moon, Bloody Super Moon

Moon bloody Super Moon
Why can’t you get here soon

Instead, in the middle of the night
From my bed standing upright
Down the street I chased it
In a state of a hissy fit
And in my pajamas no less
Frightening the neighbours I confess

Staring up the starlit night
Only to find a disturbing sight
No moon of any colour could I find
I was pissed with my teeth in grind

The big white ball
I earlier in the sky saw
Had hidden behind
A thick cloud bind

So now, another thirty-three years to wait
For that bloody moon to bate
The other option of course
And without too much of remorse
Is…

The next time the full moon is around
Maybe just photoshop in the bloody crown

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