Bury
186 creative works found
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Again the old General Hospital… / / It was built in 1897 and was home to Newfoundlands first operating room. The hospital has been closed and condemed for many many years now. Rumor has it that many dark and hideous things were done behind its doors, things that are better left forgotten… Only memories are left now that can haunt its dark and terrifying hallways. / / Cinderellas wicked step sisters would be in their glory having her scrub these floors. /
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More in this series: / / / / / / Visit my website On The Rock Photography
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Don’t worry, I will be digging him out later!!!
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my aspirations, my growth, / never stunt them both, / my happiness, my tears, / never convert them to fears, / listen, care, love and cherish, / never allow my childhood to perish, / teach me, advise me, / give me peace but never let me be… / nourish me, nurture me, / never give me heartaches to see, / I am a child, I am your future, / I am a beautiful creature!! / shower me with life’s wondrous themes… / and don’t…never…bury my DREAMS
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photoshop cs3, corel X4 / HOW I MADE THIS
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The Lost Garden
by TaineDampened by each tear / formed but never shed; / loathing, pain and sorrow / fertilize this bed.
...observations on a tram…
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Ink drawing on paper from 2006. If you are ever accosted by hungry zombies I suggest doing your best George Bush impersonation and they should leave you alone. After this picture I did a project called Nothing Stays Buried in which I buried and unearthed objects and then drew them. I then buried and unearthed the drawings as well. Drawings from that book include Pocket Dictionary, Materials, Suitcase, Toy Guitar and Sneakers.
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I took this shot in one of the cemeteries here in town. / / More in this cemetery series: / / / / / / / / / Visit my website On The Rock Photography / /
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If a war makes different nations brothers/sisters in the front and known by them, why wouldnt we be brothers, sisters at peace ??? Why mankind has to experience everything before do ? / Why dont we get lessons from the past ? / Why do we struggle and harm eachother “still” ? / WHY? / Leave the FANATICISM OUT & GET BACK TO YOUR MANKIND !!!!! / *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- / “Please listen to “Brother In Arms while you re looking at my work DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF ALL SOLDIERS DIED IN GALLIPOLI / **-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- / Australian Governor General Lord Richard Casey, when he visited the peninsula in 1967. Casey, who served at Gallipoli as a lieutenant, told of how in a lull in the fighting a Turkish soldier carried a wounded British soldier from his trench and over to the Allied trench only metres away and, leaving him with his comrades, returned to his own lines / **-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- GALLIPOLI – A POSTWAR EPIC “What land were you torn away from, / What makes you so sad having come here” / Asked Mehmet, the soldier from Anatolia / Addressing the Anzac lying near, “FROM THE UTTERMOST ENDS OF THE WORLD I come / So it writes on my tombstone” / Answered the youthful Anzac / “And here I am buried in a land that I had not even known” “Do not be disheartened mate” / Mehmet told him tenderly “You share with us the same fate / In the bosom of our country, / You are not a stranger anymore / You have become a Mehmet just like me” A paradise on Earth Gallipoli / Is a burial under the ground / Those who lost their lives in fighting / Lie there mingled in friendly compound Mehmet then asked an English soldier / Who seemed to be at the playing age “How old are you little brother / What brought you here at such an early stage” “I am fifteen forever” the English soldier said / “In the village from where I come / I used to play war with the children / Arousing them with my drum / Then I found myself in the front / Was it real or a game before I could tell / My drum fell silent / As I was struck with a shell / A place was dug for me in Gallipoli On my stone was inscribed “DRUMMER AGE FIFTEEN” / Thus ended my playful task and this is the record / Of what I have done and what I have been” / A distant drum bereaved of its master / Was weeping somewhere around / As drops of tear fell on it / With the soft rainfall on the ground / What winds had hurled / All those youthful braves / From four continents of the world / To the Gallipoli graves / Mehmet asked in wonder / They were English or Scotch / They were French or Senegalese / They were Indians or Nepalese / They were Anzacs / From Australia and New Zealand Shipfuls of soldiers who had landed / On the lacy bays of Gallipoli not knowing why / Climbed the hills and slopes rising high / Digging trenches cutting the earth like wounds / To shelter as graves those were to die Some were “BELIEVED TO BE BURIED” / In one cemetery or other / Some were in “GRAVES UNKNOWN” / All had “ENTERED INTO REST” / In the language of the tombstone / At the age of sixteen or seventeen or eighteen / Under the soil of Gallipoli Thus their short-lived stories were told / As inscriptions on tablets of old / Buried there Mehmet of Anatolia / Without a stone to tell / Consoled them saying / “Brothers… / I understand you well / For centuries I also had to die / In distant lands not knowing why / For the first time I gave my life not feeling sore / For I gave it here for my own in a war / Thus the sultan’s fief tilled for ages with my hand / Has now become for me a motherland / You who died in this land you did not know / Are no more foreigner or foe / For the land which you could not take / Has taken you to her bosom too / You therefore belong here / As much as I do” In Gallipoli a strange war was fought / Cooling off the feelings / As fighting became hot / It was a ruthless war / Yet breeding respect / In heart-to-heart exchange / As confronting trenches / Fell into closer range / Turning foe to friend / As the fighters reached their end / The war came to a close / Those who survived / Returned to their lands and homes / Leaving the dead behind / Wild flowers wave after wave / Replaced the retiring soldiers / Wild roses and mountain tulips and daisies / Were spread as rugs on the ground / Covering trench-by-trench / The wounds of fighting on the earth / The sheep turned the bunkers into sheds / The birds replaced the bullets in the sky / Nature with hands holding the plough instead of guns / Captured back the battlegrounds / With its flowers and fruits and greenery / And life returned to the soil / As traces of blood were effaced / Turning the hell of the battlefield / Into a paradise on earth / Gallipoli now abounds / With gardensful / With nationsful / Of burial grounds A paradise on earth Gallipoli / Is a burial under the ground / Those who lost their lives in fighting / Lie there mingled in friendly compound “Lying side by side” / As “friends in each other’s arms” / They may “sleep in comfort and peace” / In the land for which they died… By Bulent ECEVIT ( May28, 1925 – November 5, 2006 )*
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mixed media on wood. 24” x 36” i keep a grey bin full of photo copies, pictures cut out from magazines, polaroids, various papers, etc. as i work, i dig through it looking for elements that will fit in, compliment, or otherwise enhance the outcome of the painting… the leaves fall to the hard soil as winter sets in / there is an echo / hunger and longing drowns / and drowns / the night grows longer / a restless mind does not sleep / a thin blue-grey welcomes the dawn / the weary returns to the cave
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Another in my series of the Old General Hospital. This is of the interior hallway leading into the bowels of the sinister and dark sanitorium. I didn’ t have a flashlight becasue this was spur of the moment. So I had to use my camera flash to illuminate the long dark hallways that have many rooms and other halls leading from this main corridor. I crept along hugging the wall working my way deeper into the dungeon like structure. My imagination was going wild as I visualized the scenes of countless horror movies and their macabre scenes. I could almost feel the horror of its previous occupants as the darkness enveloped me; yet I dared go a little further just to get that picture of what lay beyond… / / Visit my website On The Rock Photography /
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Another shot taken at the Mount Barker cemetary. Located in the Adelaide holls in South Australia. /
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My Mom, buried on the left, in her late teens spent the summer working in Ocean City, New Jersey. I wish she would do this for me again! Here’s looking at you Ma! This would have been taken in 1936.
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Funny gardening tips that may not have occured to you. This cute little Gardener Teddy Bear says… Gardening … helps you hide the bodies.
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Another shot from my cemetery series. This shot really caught my eye, man lays asleep waiting for the resurrection and nature lays dormant waiting for that breath of new life come spring. The orange of the leaves is a promise and a sign of hope that this is not the end of life but only the beginning. / / More in this cemetery series: / / / / / / Visit my website On The Rock Photography / / /
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Visit my website at On The Rock Photography.com
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I found this poem on a blog for a young eventing rider, Laine Ashker, who was critically injured at the recent Rolex Three Day Event, Lexington, Kentucky. She is recovering well, and in fact was discharged from hospital yesterday. Her horse, Frodo Baggins, broke his neck and was euthanased. This poem was posted as a tribute to Frodo, and it brought a tear to my eye as well, as I remembered my beautiful old boy Jack, who is in fact buried just a few yards from this very spot. _If you bury him in this spot, / The secret of which you must already have, / He will come to you when you call – / Come to you over the far, dim pastures of death, / And down the remembered paths to your side again. / And though you ride other living horses throughout life / They shall not shy at him or resent him coming. / For he is yours and he belongs there. People may scoff at you, / Who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, / Who hear no nicker pitched too fine for insensitive ears. / People who may never really love a horse. / Smile at them then, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, / And which is well worth knowing. The one place to bury a horse is in the heart of his mistress._ Author unknown
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I went to the cemetery today to just enjoy the peace and serenity. My wife and I walked through and read the old head stones that dated as far back as the very early 1800’s. It’s hard to not imagine the lives of these people and what it was like on earth in their time. What lives they led and adventures they had… then your mind turns to those they left behind. This headstone is the burial place of a husband and wife from 1921 and 1927. After all these years someone still leaves flowers on their graves in remembrance. / / / / / / / / / / Visit my website On The Rock Photography /
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Another in my cemetery series… not too sure about this one. Just thought I’d get your opinions on it… Best viewed larger. / This tomb remined me of an old time horror flick… when something inside stirs at the onset of dusk and the lid slowly rises and deaths boney fingers creep over the rim… / / More from the series below: / / / / / / / Visit my website On The Rock Photography
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The precious pearl, discovered, unlocked, full of wisdom, radiating it’s glow for life, freedom, full of promise.
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© 6point1 Photography 2008
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Here is a photo with little artisic quality. I just thought I would post a photo from the front of my home to show all of you the amount of snow we are reciving this year. I think we are getting close to 5 ft. so far. You can use my truck for scale of the depth. We are doing snow shoveling for work this winter to there is plenty of money falling out of the sky this year.
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When I Die....
by Carol & Kev HaberleDon’t place me in the ground, / where everything is dark….
Just for the freedom I crave…...
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