The Psychic (A Lyrical Photo Shoot)

 

Happy Halloween everyone!

Here is a lyrical photo shoot I made to celebrate. The poem is about a ghost and psychic girl being friends: 

                                                         I always knew from the beginning, 

                                                        That the veil between the dead and living was thinning, 

                                                        I could see what others couldn't see... 

                                                        And that was meant to be. 

I never felt alone, 

Not in a bad way should I say, 

For I had a friend that I would see from day to day, 

She was sweet, 

She was kind, 

And I would often think about her at the back of my mind, 

I could see and feel what others couldn't, 

Maybe even that some wouldn't, 

I never prided myself on that, 

Because it is simply just a simple fact, 

I could see those who I had lost, 

To the other side had crossed...

...And I would often see her, 

The leafs around me would stir, 

And I could see and feel her, 

People claim to be able to see these visions, 

Usually you will know it is false if their story has gone through several revisions, 

What I saw though isn't fake, 

If it was, I am sure a ghost's heart would break, 

It is real, 

I know because I feel...

She often gently squeezes my hand, 

which makes me feel quite glad, 

Even though she is made out of thin air, 

She is both beautiful and fair, 

People wonder why I spend time alone, 

The truth is even when I am alone, 

I am not really alone... 

For she is here with me. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Have you had any paranormal experiences? And which character is your favorite the Psychic or the Ghost Girl? 

-Quinley 

Morning Yoga (A Lyrical Photo Shoot)

Hello everyone, I thought I would do another lyrical photo shoot, and I am giving people time to leave captions on this post. On with the photo shoot, the poem was inspired by my experience with yoga: 

Your hair in a ponytail is tied, 

Thoughts in your mind flied, 

Thinking about the things you've done, 

Mistakes you've frowned upon, 

                                                          How life continues to go on 

You take a deep breath, 

Letting the breath remove what little thoughts you have left, 

Disappear into the depth, 

Of your mind, 

Meditation is the key, 

From life's sufferings to be free, 

You place your leg upon your knee, 

And imagine yourself becoming a tree, 

You stretch, 

Feeling like you will get your body to its best, 

Breathing deeper with every breath, 

Your mind sometimes moves, 

But you tune it out with tunes, 

of Ooo, ah, and eee, 

And your mind feels free, 

You sit with your legs curved, 

Your body no longer feels nervous or unnerved, 

With that you clasp your hands together, 

Feeling much better, 

You then say "Namaste!"

And are ready for the rest of your day!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Have you ever done yoga? If so, what is your favorite yoga pose? 

-Quinley                                            

The Reluctant Hero (A Lyrical Photo Shoot)

 Hello everyone, 

I thought it would be fun to do another lyrical photo shoot, but with one of my Lord of the Rings dolls, Legolas. Though I doubt his name will be Legolas given, that I already have a doll with that name. So if you have any name suggestions they would be greatly appreciated. 

Anyway onto the photoshoot: 

Many adventures were sought, 

But all they did was bring wrought, 

Who would want to join such an expedition? 

It doesn't even seem like a favorable mission, 

monsters are about,

And with a sword, out of fear, you will act out, 

So why instead can't I live a country life? 

Instead of running at a monster with a knife? 

Why can't I be a gardener instead of an archer? 

                                       What if I wanted the life of a garden instead of a battlefield? 

A shovel I'd rather yield, 

Then a sword, 

The pen is mightier than the sword but they don't even give me a word, 

                                           

So instead of fighting a war, 

I'll do the thing that is considered a chore, 

nurture the nature, 

Which with hope I'd capture, 

I'll be a hero to the birds, 

They'll listen to my honeyed words, 

I'll be a hero to the plants, 

And I'll give nature a chance, 

I'll be a hero but not in battle. 

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What people in our world do you think are heroes, but not in the way one would be stereotypically considered  a hero? 

-Quinley 

P.S. If you're subscribed by email to my blog, the email subscription service I am using is going away. 

So you can follow by email with the new email subscription service on the sidebar: 

The White Lady (a lyrical photoshoot)

Happy Halloween! This is the first time I've done a photo shoot, and have written poetry to go along with it. Usually, I simply write what I like about the photos, but this time, it is poetry and photos. If you are confused about the title, a white lady is a female ghost seen wearing white. :

                                         She floated along the moor, 

                                             And is the talk of the town's core, 

                                                  She haunts the creeks, 

                                                        And frightens the meek, 

                                                          Her red hair flowing, 

                                                         and her body glowing, 

                                                   That would often lead travelers astray, 
                                                 On the most damp and rainy day, 

                                                    What cause of her death may be? 
                                                   Well, you shall see... 

                                                 She received word that her lover, 
                                             from her most heart wrenched mother, 

                                               had been drowned in the waves, 
                                               this caused tears, 
                                              

                                                    from which her mother peered, 
                                                Unknowing what the fates had in store, 

                                              For it was soon that she ran out the door, 
                                             Into the damp and forbidden moor, 

                                       What happened exactly is unknown, 

                            But many hear her long moans echoing through the night, 
                           giving many a fright. 

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What did you think of the poem? And which photo was your favorite? 

-Quinley