All those long hours

days, weeks caged into jobs with no prospects.

Odd one out

lost to the streets he walked

in snatched lunch hours

with a cheap camera, curious

capturing moments on little glassy eyed

strips of film snaking glistening

unwinding from the tank

hung out to dry, teardrops of history

in the making,

a hobby and more besides,

a way of life. 


Now five decades have past

and they are pleased to see me again;

buildings like old overcoats cast aside,

people, the walking dead

bright eyed, resolute

haunting my new present with hope,

those glassy eyed strips of film,

a kiss of life: jpeg immortality

incongruous, incomparable,

tales of my random past. 




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Sat 30th Nov 2019 21:14

Thanks Po for sharing your enthusiasm for the poem . I still have my parents box brownie from when I was a kid. Magic box of course.

Glad you liked it Don.

Cheers Jennifer. I'm glad you liked the idea of the film. Always a thrill to see them hanging up to dry!

Also thanks for the likes, Tom, Vautaw and afishamongmany. .


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jennifer Malden

Fri 29th Nov 2019 23:34

Great as usual. Ray!some fantastic imagery - 'little glassy-eyed strips of film- snaking and glistening - teardrops of history'. Fantastic.


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Don Matthews

Wed 27th Nov 2019 21:21

I like this Ray.....

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Wed 27th Nov 2019 21:15

Ray this poem is such an emotive piece of writing, It invokes the photographer in me.
I especially like your line... "hung out to dry, teardrops of history in the making..."

What a line, what an image.

I have sadly lost my Kodak brownie 127 the images are still engraved, etched, in my memory. Somehow my digital Cannon does not invoke the same response in the old grey matter.

You have captured in all it's black and white imagery a technicolour Image-nation. Thank you

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