Castle sky Wall Art
787 creative works found
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The remains of a Irish castle wall
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What’s left of a castle from the looks of it, again in Chester.
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These are my cousins on the left and on the right is my sista… / Nikon D40
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Lismore castle,Lismore, Co. Waterford.
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Baeumaris Last of king edward the 1st iron ring castles. On the isle of Anglesey north Wales.
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Bamburgh Castle, view from the beach.
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Scotney Castle, Kent
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Prudhoe Castle is built on a steep sided rocky outcrop above the River Tyne. The barony of Prudhoe was granted to Robert d’Umfraville by Henry I after 1100, and a new castle was constructed on the site of an earlier fortification. Odinel d’Umfraville, who succeeded his father in 1145, was brought up in the home of Earl Henry, father of the Scottish king, William the Lion. Odinel rejected any Scottish loyalty and supported the English king, Henry II, when William the Lion invaded northern England in 1173-4. The Scottish king besieged Prudhoe in 1173 and again in 1174, but was unsuccessful on both attempts. Odinel and his force eventually captured the Scottish king outside Alnwick, where William was forced to sign the treaty of Falaise, recognising Henry as the superior lord of Scotland.
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In 1568 Mary Queen of Scots was held at Bolton castle for a year, before being moved to Tutbury Castle in Staffordshire. During the Civil War the castle was held by the Royalist, John Scrope. In 1645, starvation forced him to surrender to a Parliamentary army after a year long siege. The castle was slighted, leaving only the west range and south-west tower habitable. In 1762, the weakened north-east tower collapsed during a storm, but the rest of the castle survives almost to its original height.
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stock list http://www.sxc.hu/photo/781252 http://www.sxc.hu/photo/809822 http://www.sxc.hu/photo/805759 dragons by http://jlstock.deviantart.com/
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Bamburgh Castle, Northumberland. Late November ‘08
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© 2009 RC deWinter Gothic folk art digital painting based on Shirley Jackson’s 1962 novel of the same name.
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Above Port Logan Scotland / / /
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Edlingham Castle is a small castle ruin in the care of English Heritage.It is situated in a valley to the west of Alnwick, Northumberland, England. John de Edlingham built a large two-storey Hall House in a moated enclosure in the mid 13th century. / In 1296 the property was taken over by Sir William de Felton who added a palisade inside the moat and a gatehouse on the north side. / Its fortifications were increased in response to the border warfare which raged between England and Scotland in the period from about 1300 to 1600. / The ruins are mostly laid low though much of the solar tower still stands despite an impressive crack running several stories down to ground level.
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Created with Incendia
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Shot in the village of Tuscania near Viterbo, Italy. —-—-- / Nikon d70 with with Nikkor AF-S DX 18-70mm f/3.5-4.5G IF-ED
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Taken from the garden of Hampton Court Palace in Surrey, UK on April 13, 2009 with an Olympus FE-340. On this day I went to Surrey and visited Hampton Court Palace. The palace was extravagant; richly adorned with paintings, frescoes, mouldings, statues, tapestries, and more (deer antlers, guns, weapons etc.) And further more there was a beautiful garden with flowers, trees, swans, fountains, but also a great body of still water reflecting the sky above. I believe, that even more than the wealth of a king, that the greatest tresures all come from nature.
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Inspired by fabulous artist Sam Phillips and the lyrics of her song If I Could Write: If I could write I’d set all the words free / to follow you / Tell you wonder, tell you secrets and solitude / I’ve had to let go off so much / It’s hard to hold on now / Something far off is pulling me and / When I go this time I don’t think I’m coming back I took your ring that never comes off and put it on / Sorry to lose you, sorry to keep you after you were gone / Nothing is small, nothing is unexpected / I want more / When I go this time I don’t think I’m coming back Desire’s the element that I can’t fight / Dream is the arm of God / Girl’s looking for themselves in your eyes / I’m looking for you / What’s this supposed to be some kind of perfect / I want more / When I go this time I don’t think I’m coming back sam@youtube
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Bamburgh Castle, Northumberland. / / The Romance Music from The Witchfinder General. As sunshine therapy then, I listed all the happenings I could not explain. Could not account for in the dreadful, dreary, daily, dumb. Fearful scars across a manic mystery of my own making. Across the Camel river then to Lyonesse; to hear the bells under the waves and finding in ivy, hidden Mesopotamian mystery mazes on a rocky valley, carved, cliff wall. A witch body in an old witch blacked stone museum. A big pig, ghost pig, frightening a boy, in Thomas Hardy’s cold greenwood church. An Adder and a sign saint under a stone in a river through a fiord. The Once and Future king swimming forever under Tintagel’s waterfalls. The light of my stone megalith mystery landscape. The one they call paralis in paradise. The moor of excellent dreams. North Grandfather coming into sleep and asking to be aright, all bright. / Othneil, Lion of God, my Norman ancestor uncle, haunting me uncertainly with the sad smell of his pipe tobacco in rooms long emptied of memories. The first time in Ireland when he died in England and I did not know. / A hand touches mine in the Irish dark from nowhere. It plays and strokes and then unaccountably leaves. Leaving flowers and the smell of pipe tobacco. / A sister asleep with eyes closed at the same time as Ireland, yet reading aloud and turning pages. / The Synchronizing of timeless effect and million to one chances happening every tattled tale time I looked around, in and under, in remorseless fogged fear. / Finding this music only when I stopped listening and looking in the hiding of plain sight. / A Cavalryman in a Priest hole behind the horsehair and plaster of a friend and ancient farm. The walk across a wooden, yet carpeted floor with spurs a jingle. With his long straight pistol and sword all bright, all blood, all right. / The monster sound crashing in the eldrich dark wood of illicit listless love with the girl that ran and ran and ran along the old railway into another woman. The place and line of decapitated Captains. All these, still many more, were list listed in the black books of before bright pagan burning, as always. As Sunshine therapy then. Did it work? Oh yes and strangely enough, no.
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Lincoln Cathedral (in full The Cathedral Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Lincoln, or sometimes St. Mary’s Cathedral) is a historic Anglican cathedral in Lincoln in England and seat of the Diocese of Lincoln in the Church of England. It was reputedly the tallest building in the world for nearly a quarter of a millennium (1300–1549), though this height has been questioned.[1] The central spire collapsed in 1549 and was not rebuilt. It is highly regarded by architectural scholars; the eminent Victorian writer John Ruskin declared, “I have always held… that the cathedral of Lincoln is out and out the most precious piece of architecture in the British Isles and roughly speaking worth any two other cathedrals we have.” Please visit my website PaulThompsonPhotography Canon 5DMk2 / F11 / ISO 100 / 16mm full frame HDR / 1 Raw File splt into 3 exposures -2/0/+2 / Photomatix
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