Mystic mists at Arthurs Seat

Pic on Flickr by Gemma Wiseman ~ Misty Arthurs Seat 1

Yesterday, there was a beautiful sense of mystery in the air. It was a day when any sane photographer would simply despair at finding any rhyme or reason. Shapes seemed to ooze out of nowhere and all known sensibilities seemed forgotten. Believe it or not, that is usually a busy road just in front of that little crossing. But on this day, I had no problem taking a pic from this point.


Just near the open parkland at the summit are many walking tracks leading into the Arthurs Seat National Park. This is one of the many walkways dreaming its way into the scents and wonders of the Australian bush.

This pic (below) is of Bunurong Track, just below the Arthurs Seat summit. It is a winding road, generally used by the locals to short-cut from Arthurs Seat to the bustling village of Rosebud on Port Phillip Bay. Here, the summit purls away into white space.

This pic wanders into the magic of Australian bushland. The ochrey textures of bark soften in the palest blues of mists. In many ways, this scene reminds me of paintings done by the colonial painters of the Heidelburg School.

I felt there was something haunting here, like a dream waiting for dreaming.

Faithful Smile

Pic on Flickr by Gemma Wiseman ~ My adorable dog
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Writer's Island prompt ~ Faithful
~
For some ~
Lifeless
Stone
Cement
Means
Cold
Without
Feeling ~
But
There
By the door
Of dawns
And sunsets
You remind me
To practise
The daily art
Of
A faithful
Warm
Smile
~

The Chatter Box

Pic on Flickr by Gemma Wiseman
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Sunday Scribblings prompt ~ telephone
~
Locked into walls
And plugs
And wires
The telephone
Was once the hive
To bubble and squeak
~
But now
Landline
Is
The buzz word for
That antiquated
Means of transport ~
Definitely
The lower means of travel
~
Mobiles or
Cellphones
Are the real way
The cool way
To wing the clouds ~
Unwired
Unplugged
Hands free
~
Contactable
Reachable
Anywhere
Any time
~
But I wonder
Does that mean
We have more freedom
Or less?
~

Sour Fantasy

Pic on Flickr by Gemma Wiseman ~ Year 9 collage response to a theme study of war
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Writer's Island prompt ~ Fantasy
~
If only war was just
Yesterday ~
A moment buried in the past
~
If only war was just
An autumn leaf
Closing a season
~
If only war was just
A cloud
Passing in the sky
~
But yesterday
Becomes
Many yesterdays
~
Autumn leaves
Recycle
~
Clouds
Pass
And gather again
~
So war
Is some fantasy
Of glory
Souring
Into a
Recurring
Nightmare
~

Cross-wired

Pic on Flickr by Gemma Wiseman ~ Seawinds 3
~
3WW prompt ~ cautious human maybe
~
It is human nature to be curious ~
To feel some intense longing
To peek over the edge
To see
What it could be like
On the other side ~
But maybe
It is quite fortunate
That some angel
Thought of adding
Some cautious
Cross-wired
Posts and rails
Before you get there
~

Desert echoes

Pic on Flickr by Gemma Wiseman ~ Seawinds 9
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One Single Impression prompt ~ desert or deserted
~
A barbecue area under shady boughs
Without the sizzle of onion scents
And bubbling voices
Somehow seems like
An oasis party that
Should be
Could be ~
But is just
Desert echoes of
Possibly
May be
Might be
Deserted
~

Happiness is a strange country

Pic on Flickr by Gemma Wiseman ~ Verandah ornaments 2
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Two for Tuesdays prompt ~ Happiness and/or complacency
~
Happiness is keeping your eyes closed
And seeing what you want to see ~
Or is that blind complacency?
~
Happiness is keeping a smile on your face ~
Or is that smug complacency?
~
Happiness is staying calm, controlled
Centred
While storms rage wild around you ~
Or is that foolish complacency?
~
Happiness is being content with what you have ~
Or is that complacency without a dream?
~
Perhaps happiness is revelling in the smile of another
Floating in a sense of contentment
And then realising
This is a fleeting moment
That sparks a vision
Of finding some happiness
Somewhere
Again
~
Or is that
Dogged
Determined
Complacency?
~
Happiness could be like
The joy of a glorious sunrise
That must
Naturally
Move on
To the weathers
And seasons of day
~
Happiness could be
The art of being broken
On the outside
But never being beaten
On the inside
~
Balance
~
Perhaps
Happiness is
The light
And complacency is
The shadow
Of all that we are
Or could be
~
It seems
Happiness is a paradox
Requiring skilled labour
And complacency is a hyperbole
Requiring little more than
A mask
~

Take Another Look

Pic on Flickr by Gemma Wiseman ~ Verandah ornaments 6
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Totally Optional Prompts ~ Transformation
~
I am just a log
Trimmed for burning
But too large to give up my life
To fire and ash
In the wood heater
~
And I am just a brown pot
Encrusted with floral posies ~
I should be a bird bath
But somehow
My ornamentals
Deter birdlife
From finding
Joy in me
~
And we are just twigs
Refuse of trees
Fit only to return to dust ~
But maybe
We could spark
Some higher purpose
For just a brief moment
Of glory
As kindling
To inspire warmth ~
So we wonder
Is that all there is
For us?
~
Yet
Together
We become one ~
One new life
One new purpose
One new identity ~
Breathing a sense of
Unique interest
Perhaps a little beauty
In some humble corner
Of the verandah
~

Remember puddle dancing?

Pic on Flickr by Gemma Wiseman ~ Port Phillip Bay glimpses on a winter's afternoon
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Simply Snickers Prompt ~ umbrella under puddle promise
~
Under powder skies
Limping with stray thoughts of rain
Moody blue waters
Simmer with stormy heartbeats
Glistening in pools of light
~
Leaves cramp in darkness
Hoping the promise of rain
Answers summer thirsts ~
Too long dreaming of old days
When life was free to be green
~
And I remember
In days of youthful delight
When rain was normal ~
An umbrella was ready
And boots danced in a puddle
~

Soft Distance

Pic on Flickr by Gemma Wiseman ~ Port Phillip Bay from Arthurs Seat, Victoria, Australia ~ 3.05.08

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Easy Street Prompt #165 ~ At a distance

~

From a soft distance

Where I've been seems far away

Sorrows are small lights

Glittering on dark waters

Waiting for the tides to turn

~

Fresh Identity ~ Celebrating My First Digital Photo

Pic on Flickr by Gemma Wiseman ~ Misty Morning ~ 3.5.08
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Writer's Island Prompt ~ Identity
~

Love mystic mornings
Shrouded in tiers of grey lights
Waiting for voices
Like a hushed moment in time
Like life living a first breath
~
I am mystic wells
Laced in ancient grey questions
Waiting for voices
Like strange haunting memories
Like new risings of old realms
~
FOOTNOTE: This is my first digital pic taken from the verandah of my home in the first lights of morning.
~

I wish it was my photo ~ Nonets for Sunday Scribblings

Pic by iamthez on Deviant Art ~ The Wall
~
I always love the unusual
Perhaps the different angle
Perhaps the different tone
It could be the lighting
Perhaps the topic
But it's not mine
I just view
A shot ~
Yours
~
Mine
So odd ~
I look up
A towering wall
A cotton wool sky
Strange contrasting lighting
Sharp textured brown and white tones
A day from a fresh new angle
Miracles from the unusual
~

One Photo Could Be My Life ~ Prompt from Mind Bump

suggested by Testube

"If you had to select only one photograph from your photo albums to represent your life, which photograph would you choose?"

Winging my way home to the early dawn of an Australian spring, (from a whirlwind Autumn in Saskatchewan, Canada), and as I approached the last airwaves before landing in Melbourne, I took a photo of the Victorian Alps, huddled in the northeast landscapes of Victoria.

The raining colour I had left behind in Canada still resonated in my wistful spirit. So, seeing far below a blue, misted world quilted with fancy, melting snowy icing was quite a shock for the flying soul. Taking the photo helped make the culture shock tangible. But I had to wrestle to get a clear image. You see, I was seated near a window, but halfway down the plane. That meant all scenic views were crossed with a single, silver-plated, gleaming wing of the aircraft.

If I struggled for too long to get the perfect shot, I knew the beauty would be gone in just a moment. So the wing had to be there, somehow. Thinking quickly, maybe desperately, I turned the camera slightly so that the wing of the plane angled diametrically, symmetrically; beauty cleanly divided into two self-contained parts with a sliver of silver.

The final photo could be so symbolic of all that I am. Imagine pearling white clouds, patches of pale blue sky meeting the blues of earth; cloudy pockets of snow deftly icing random peaks. And then a wing, like a silver lining struggling for a place in this world of magical mystery, struggling to fly in it, through it and over it; maybe carrying a little memory to the heady bustle of urban Melbourne.

That is me! A kind of Jonathan Livingston Seagull tweeked with just a hint of airbrushing; maybe limping a little on one wing at times, but always flying above the clouds; seeing worlds beyond the routine of traffic lights and time frames. After all, in the space of one flight, I had travelled from Autumn to Spring!

Anything is possible when you fly!