Glastonbury Tor

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    chezsmithy, draGnet ★, venegas, and 34 other people added this photo to their favorites.

    1. ErikaBaarova 113 months ago | reply

      splendid, splendid

    2. draGnet ★ 113 months ago | reply

      Wow Julius. Exactly how many Close Encounters have you experienced??

    3. Unpossible 113 months ago | reply

      I'm not sure. I think they wipe my brain after each one.

    4. (a)somnambulist 112 months ago | reply

      !!! its nearly a cocteau film.

    5. Unpossible 111 months ago | reply

      To answer Edwinek's question, this picture was taken with conventional black and white film.

    6. Monster. 111 months ago | reply

      Greta, great photo, Mr U. Gladstonbury Tor is a wonderful place, very mystical - but it never quite looked like this when I was there...

    7. liliths_nymph [deleted] 103 months ago | reply

      I love the Tor.

      And the man I love lives right near it.

    8. Bugarse 98 months ago | reply

      Excellent!!

    9. literarymind 95 months ago | reply

      Snowflakes tapping on the windowpane
      evoking emotions
      trapped inside old memories like photographs
      this is a night for stories
      and on a night like this
      she is the only story

      The moon shines through the leafless branches
      reflecting like a million diamond facets
      from the crystals of snow
      lifting the illusion of isolation
      one feels naturally in the cold air.
      Stars, like white moths, fill the sky in that
      moment before they transform into
      infinite snowflakes. Winter has come.

      The minstrel shivers and stokes his fire
      though he is already aflame with the
      warming ardor of love. Her village is close
      and as he strums his lyre her name
      resonates in the poet's songs.

      I tell this story for she is not here
      and shrouded in my memories of her
      I am loath to do else than sing her song.

      Four thousands years ago, from this primal
      woodscape rose the moon goddess
      and she walked the land
      past the earthfresh meadow where
      one day I would take you
      lie with you in the spring,
      on that fragrant ground
      your aroma mingling with
      that of the fertile loam
      the singular lingering bit of
      geomancy stirring
      between us and we wrestle
      like Creiddyladd and Gwythr
      at first groping and eager
      but learning with each touch
      those places that please
      and we meld, liquid silver
      and molten gold into one ring.

      The minstrel weaves his seductive song
      and they consummate their love
      but as he must, he leaves,
      promising swift return.

      Love suspended as fate interferes
      a common theme of both myth
      and modernity, but its abundance
      offers me no solace on this
      foggy, snowy night.

      Daybreak, and he makes her village
      but she, of course, is gone. Not one
      offers assistance, not one but the
      withered witch, her hut in the
      hazel wood. "Gone, she is, to
      Avalon, a priestess now, not
      your love." He protests, and
      the fire of his passions melts
      for an instant the witch's frozen
      heart, stone all those years
      since her own love disappeared.

      So he sets off, her instructions fresh
      "On the day Spring opens her first rose,
      carry a branch of Avalon's tree with you
      silver, its white blossoms promising golden fruit
      carry it across the isle of glass,
      seeing with otherworldly sight
      and you will meet her again."
      So he makes his way there.

      Here, but not only here, the
      veil between worlds is thin
      and we dance across it like
      waterbugs skittering on the
      surface of an old well
      tendrils of flame from my fire
      reflected in the pool like
      the light of your eye,
      your beauty in the mirror
      and I remember all this
      though it is raining and
      all I can see in the pool
      are the rippling reflections
      of the tree's bare branches

      It rises from a scar on the earth
      on the coldest of winter days
      in advance of the snowstorm
      and is recorded by a lone
      watcher, fulfilling surveillance duty
      high above at the top of the ancient tor.
      Some days it manifests as a light mist,
      others as a thick fog shrouding all
      that is real as that brook flowing through a vale
      teeming with silver fingerlings,
      spawn of a bounteous spring
      winnowed one by one, like the fair maidens
      in the village, until only the wise trout remains,
      perhaps the one caught by Aengus, that
      singular maiden who outlasts the others.

      But on that Spring day, the poet faded
      easily through the soft veil, branch
      in hand, calling softly her name,
      answered only by a child's laughter in the wind.
      And he waited, patiently for his love
      until the branch took root and he
      became the tree.

      I know we plucked the golden apple
      from the poet's tree, that day beneath
      Autumn's sun, we tasted the silver
      sweet flesh beneath the golden skin.
      We dreamed the dream of the
      lovelorn poet and his love, mother
      now, priestess serving her goddess.

      One appleseed planted in the light of the full moon
      germinates, grows, marks the sacred spot
      on the body of the goddess,
      blossoms into that one tree

      and as you walk through the orchard
      looking for that tree-
      planted from seeds carried from Glastonbury-
      silvered with age, wizened by the
      wind of many icy winters,
      and as the yellow orange sky
      presages imminent dawn
      and your rosy cheeks are visible
      behind the clouds of your breath
      you find your quarry and
      fall on your knees before its trunk
      feeling again my first kiss on your lips.

    10. SerialCoder 81 months ago | reply

      This image has been added to the Flickr Museum for making explore's top 25. Kudos!You can check it out here...

    11. WorldFlickr 81 months ago | reply

      Hi, I am an admin for a group called Landmarks around the world, and I discovered this great shot in Glastonbury, United Kingdom. We love to have your photo added to the group.

    12. Unpossible 81 months ago | reply

      Hi WorldFlickr. Thanks for the invitation. I've added the picture to the group.

    13. Sultan Vahdettin 79 months ago | reply

      This is a Fantastic piece of work!
      Why don't you log on to contaxg.com and join the Contax G community??

    14. Unpossible 78 months ago | reply

      Sorry Kemal, I missed your comment somehow.

      contaxg.com/folder.php?id=1318

      I stopped posting to the Contax G site when I started taking digital pictures. I miss using the G2. I may well pick it up again soon.

    15. Sultan Vahdettin 78 months ago | reply

      No probs my friend. I sold all my digital gear and use the G2 exclusively now. Film seems to have 'it', in my opinion.
      you got some great stuff and the G is a class act

    16. quietloner 70 months ago | reply

      That's fantastic. That's exactly how I see the tor with my 'third' eye!

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