Photo (and Poetry) Blog


Welcome! This is mainly a photo blog, but I couldn't resist adding my other interest - literature, and poetry in special. Hunting down the best photograph to accompany a poem is a challenge I love. I hope you will enjoy it too!

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I Cannot But Remember When the Year Grows Old


Autumn by Mihaela Limberea www.limberea.com



I cannot but remember

When the year grows old—
October—November—
How she disliked the cold!

She used to watch the swallows
Go down across the sky,
And turn from the window
With a sharp little sigh.

And often when the brown leaves
Were brittle on the ground,
And the wind in the chimney
Made a melancholy sound,

She had a look about her
That I wish I could forget—
The look of a scared thing
Sitting in a net!

Oh, beautiful at nightfall
The soft spitting snow!
And beautiful the bare boughs
Rubbing to and fro!

But the roaring of the fire,
And the warmth of fur,
And the boiling of the kettle
Were beautiful to her!

I cannot but remember
When the year grows old—
October—November—
How she disliked the cold!


Edna St. Vincent Millay, When the Year Grows Old


I Cannot Endure to Waste Anything So Precious as Autumnal Sunshine


Autumn in the Woods II by Mihaela Limberea www.limberea.com



I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house.


Nathaniel Hawthorne


Autumn Colours by Mihaela Limberea



Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love—that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one’s very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit.


George Eliot


Autumn in the Woods by Mihaela Limberea www.limberea.com



At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honey-sweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost.


Rainer Maria Rilke


A Song On The End Of The World

A Song On The End Of The World



On the day the world ends

A bee circles a clover,

A fisherman mends a glimmering net.

Happy porpoises jump in the sea,

By the rainspout young sparrows are playing

And the snake is gold-skinned as it should always be.


On the day the world ends

Women walk through the fields under their umbrellas,

A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of the lawn,

Vegetable peddlers shout in the street

And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,

The voice of a violin lasts in the air

And leads into a starry night.


And those who expected lightning and thunder

Are disappointed.

And those who expected signs and archangels’ trumps

Do not believe it is happening now.

As long as the sun and the moon are above,

As long as the bumblebee visits a rose,

As long as rosy infants are born

No one believes is is happening now.


Only a white-haired man, who would be a prophet

Yet is not a prophet, for he’s much too busy,

Repeats while he binds his tomatoes:

There will be no other end of the world,

There will be no other end of the world.


Czeslaw Milosz, A Song On The End Of The World (1944)


I Hope That In This Year To Come, You Make Mistakes

Gornergrat, Switzerland by Mihaela Limberea www.limberea.com



I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.

Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're Doing Something.

So that's my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody's ever made before. Don't freeze, don't stop, don't worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.

Whatever it is you're scared of doing, Do it.

Make your mistakes, next year and forever.


Neil Gaiman


Happy New 2018!

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It’s New Year’s Eve! I wish you a very, very Happy New Year! May 2018 bring you and yours much joy and happiness!


I Wonder If the Snow Loves the Trees and Fields


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I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again".


Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass


’Twas The Night Before Christmas

Christmas Tree by Mihaela Limberea www.limberea.com


Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house 

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; 

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, 

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; 

The children were nestled all snug in their beds; 

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; 

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, 

Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap, 

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, 

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. 

Away to the window I flew like a flash, 

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. 

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, 

Gave a lustre of midday to objects below, 

When what to my wondering eyes did appear, 

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer, 

With a little old driver so lively and quick, 

I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick. 

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, 

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: 

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen! 

On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen! 

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! 

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!" 

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, 

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; 

So up to the housetop the coursers they flew 

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too— 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof 

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. 

As I drew in my head, and was turning around, 

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, 

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; 

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, 

And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack. 

His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry! 

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! 

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow; 

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, 

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath; 

He had a broad face and a little round belly 

That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. 

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, 

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; 

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head 

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread; 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, 

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, 

And laying his finger aside of his nose, 

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; 

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, 

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. 

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight— 

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”


Clement Clarke Moore (1779 – 1863), A Visit from St Nicholas (more commonly known as The Night Before Christmas).


I wish you a Merry Christmas and a wonderful day with family and friends!


Waiting For Christmas


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Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.


Norman Vincent Peale


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Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state of mind. To cherish peace and goodwill, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas.


Calvin Coolidge


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He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree.



Roy L. Smith


I Saw Old Autumn

Autumn Forest by Mihaela Limberea www.limberea.com



I  saw old Autumn in the misty morn stand shadowless like silence, listening to silence.


Thomas Hood


Autumn by Mihaela Limberea www.limberea.com



There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!


P. B. Shelley


Into the Woods by Mihaela Limberea www.limberea.com



Now Autumn’s fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.


William Allingham


There is a part of me that will forever want to be walking under autumn leaves ...

Autumn by Mihaela Limberea


There is a part of me that will forever want to be walking under autumn leaves, carrying a briefcase containing the works of Shakespeare and Yeats and a portable chess set. I will pass an old tree under which once on a summer night I lay on the grass with a fragrant young woman and we quoted e.e. cummings back and forth.


Roger Ebert



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