The stroke of autumn colors swipe across the evening sky.
An every day miracle;
I catch a glimpse as I walk nearby.
Leaves in every shade of red hit the ground,
and crunch beneath my feet with a familiar sound.
Golden rays ricochet off everything it grazes,
and touches my face with soft embraces.
But what I say may not be all real or true.
It is nothing but a rose-filtered view.
And what a wonderful way to view this world,
through my own poetic hue.
To find beauty in paltry, neglected corners;
it is a royal way of living.
You want to share stories and emotions,
but you’re afraid to be open.
So you pause and look out at the ocean,
and count the silences between the waves.
You sit quietly, just listening.
So much history runs through my mind,
and I cannot collect any words to say.
These pulses of anxiety feel unrefined,
but I still want to stay by your side.
So I sit quietly, just listening.
Conflicted with what we want,
we finally reach an impasse.
We pretend to stay nonchalant,
with ebbs and flows of imperfect moments.
We sit quietly, just listening.
Listening for all the unsaid words.
Listening for all the stifled laughter.
Listening to every wave crash on land.
Listening to everyone else around us.
After having a few difficult conversations this month, this poem is a reminder to reach out to the people you care about. To tell them how much you value them. To be vulnerable in meaningful relationships.
There is a stillness in solitude that scares people.
It’s in the silence of your voice,
because your thoughts speak for itself.
Your mind starts to wander;
to places you have forgotten,
and spaces you always get lost in.
There is a stillness in solitude that scares people.
It’s in the safety of human connection.
The warmth of a hug and the love in a kiss,
that no one wants to let go of.
It’s a feeling that makes you reminiscent,
of an embrace and the loss of innocence.
There is a stillness in solitude that scares people.
It’s in the songs that bring you back to your childhood.
When you close your eyes and feel the same emotions
after the hundredth time you listen to it.
A melody from that drive with your friends,
and a beat worth dancing till the weekend ends.
There is a stillness in solitude that scares people.
It’s in the stories you have collected,
that you have no one to share with.
The experiences you wish to tell others,
so you can relive your happy moments,
give back a praise worth notice,
and forgive with sincere condolence.
There is a stillness in solitude that scares people.
Video games are undoubtedly a work of art: they combine immersive graphics, impressive design, originally composed music, and complex writing and storytelling to create a cohesive masterpiece. Of course every game is different, and each has its strengths and weaknesses, but overall they’re one of the most unique and interesting ways in which many different art forms can come together. Surprisingly, I had never consciously acknowledged the cinematic qualities of video games, but I always found myself taking screenshots of amazing moments, or lining up the camera in just the right way to show off an impressive view or landscape. It could be argued that I’m a bit overly sentimental, and that’s probably true, but there is something so powerful about a cinematic picture of a great game and the associations that it creates. I’m not the only one that feels this way; many games have even added photo modes, allowing normal players to take stunning pictures in-game and share them with other players, plus the PlayStation 4 has both a snapshot and screen recording feature, testifying to the popularity of saving favorite gaming moments. I find this trend interesting, especially as games get more and more realistic. Is there a potential future where video games become a dominant medium for photography? Is it possible that video game photography could be its own art form? And who gets credit for the artistic value of the photo; the game developers who created it, or the photographer that took it? Regardless, here are some of my own video game photos as inspiration, and perhaps to get you thinking about the artistic value of the medium: