Without Words 45

IMGP0488ab WOW FBO

Goff james, Without Words 45, 2018

Exp 1/5, f/13, ISO 50, FL 3200 mm

 

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Without Words 44

2017-04-17 12.32.25ab WOW FBO

Goff James, Without Words 44, 2018

Exp 1/320, f/2.6, ISO 50, FL 3.54 mm

Welcome to my photography.

Thank you for sharing your time with me.

Have a wonderful day.

All images used here are the copyright of:

© goffjamesart/photography/poetry

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Without Words 43

20170522_134253ab B&W FBO

Goff James, Without Words 43, 2018

Exp 1/310, f/2.6, ISO 50, FL 3.54 mm

 

Welcome to my photography.

Thank you for sharing your time with me.

Have a wonderful day.

All images used here are the copyright of:

© goffjamesart/photography/poetry

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Grandad’s Escape

Grandad FBO

Goff James, Grandad, 2018

Grandad

Grandad frail
Cloth cap perched
In its familiar much practised
Stance upon his head and ears
Walks tentatively
Down the frozen garden path
Shivering at winters sharp touch
Puffing clouds of
Misted mutant breath
That rise heavenwards
For all to view
As grandma calls
From half open kitchen door
In voice so shrill that
Peals across the empty air
And echoes for all to hear
A voice that
Could and would
Lead men into epic battle
If she had her way
Have you got your muffler on
She yells
No response
Then in tone disdained
What about your woollen socks
A louder voice stretches
Across the vacant space
Between her and him
Compensating for the old man’s
Increasing deafness and
Disowning of her own
She hails
YOU’VE FORGOTTEN YOUR GLOVES
AGAIN
Cursing unamused in
Whispered tongue
So not a single bird would hear
Grandad undistracted progresses
On his daily commute
Nearly there
He muses to himself
And coughing loudly to annoy
He spits upon the lawn
Grandma tuts-tuts disapprovingly
And loudly slams the door
Passing all the shrivelled crops
Planted last summer in a glut
Foul-mouthing the
Uncut rotting blooms
That grandma insisted
Would be useful to
Decorate the church
Ignoring their demise
Continues left to wandering alone
Along the well trodden route
Grandad becomes once more
Totally focused upon achieving
His goal
His escape
His shed
Filled with rusted tools and nails
Half eaten biscuits and mouldy bread
Inhabited by spiders
Beetles flies and mice
A place of complete mystery
A place totally out of bounds
To Grandma and
Others not privy to its
Secrets and its simple pleasures
A non-u smokers paradise
Pickled in tobacco smoke
And half drunk smuggled cans of beer
Left to mature on rotting
Shelves and carpeted in
Disintegrating newspapers and
Ancient gardening magazines
Grandad’s dream of ease and comfort
His view of earthly paradise
A place of peace and solitude
Built whilst vigour filled his veins
And gardening was his craft
Now his templed sanctuary
An escape from grandma’s
Ever sharpened sworded tongue
A place to be once more
The king of his domain

 

Welcome to my poetry.

Thank you for sharing your time with me.

Have a wonderful day.

All images and poems used here are the copyright of:

© goffjamesart/photography/poetry

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https://goffjamesart.wordpress.com