A photography and lyrics book by MiMaVe.design.photo
Verses from Polar Poems
This is an attempt to take the reader alon to enjoy the summertime beauty of polar na lyrical or poetic literary descriptions. Th res the feelings felt and the experienced a There are different styles of photos accor situation. Trying to convey the "atmosph raw converter software is being used for text copyright: MiMaVe.design.
ng with a journey in polar landscapes, ature. This is a photography book with he aim is to convey in words and pictuambiances of the northern landscapes. rding to the feel of the places and the here" as accurately as possible. Only a r the photos. Graphics, design, photo, .photo. All rights reserved.
Table of contents Introduction 1 Table of contents 3 The journey begins 5 An old pine 8 A winter's memory 9 A forest phantom 11 Rapids in the shade 14 The misty mountain 15 A gentle mountain stream18 Distant tops 19 The silver hair of the mountain lady fair 22 A silent moment 23 The seeking sun 26 Rolling green hills 28 Mist flowing through green lines 29 Mountain lake reflecting, the midnight sun painting 31 A hidden paradise 34
4 The clouds are coming 36 Midnight sun breaking through the mist 37 Iconic landscapes, thousands of tourists, thousands of photos, a paradox of time 40 The edge 42 Rain is in the air 44 Polar living 46 Man's marks on the landscape 47 Memories from times long gone 49 The sun scorching, horseflies on raids 52 Hard and soft 53 Turquoise and green 56 Midnight sun painting boldly 57 Scale and a fisherman's tale 60 Top of the world 61 Looking back 64 Last rays of the midnight sun 65
Ancient lanscapes, attracting wilderness, snow's almost go explore the beauty and peril of polar summer vistas. Behin the dancing rays of the sun. Here they start the verses of p Take root in your soul, in your heart, where we all
The wind is whining, trying to steal the camera. The wind is serve your surroundings, take the time, feel, nature is spea lar landscapes, through the verses of polar poems. Take th atmo This is m this
Here the jou
one, summer is here. Where starts the journey, the journey to nd south, in front the north. See the dark clouds gather, see polar poems. Explore north, let the polar experience take root. l are as one: no time, no place, eternity in a landscape.
s whining, trying to move the stance. The wind is whining, obaking. Visuals and literals will take you there with me, to pohe camera, take the pen and tell what's beautiful in the arctic osphere. my mission. s I will.
An old pine
Ancient are the landscapes, ancient are the vistas, ancient are the roots of pines on the wind beaten mountains. Sucking the essence of polar ambience, the pine stands weather, stands storms. Not in search for glamour or fame. Slowly stretching. Reaching not too far, Aiming not too high, finding its place in timeless landscapes. Keeping close, growing stronger, a pine on the top of a mountain corner.
Gray are the colours of polar heights: mist and clouds of frequen ry dwells, bursts of summertime life make haste. Still a memory memory of winter's touch is in the air. The moist of cold wind wh The waterfall echoes the spring's great streams
nt rains. In the ravines of intense green landscapes mist and mysteof winter's whites resides, where the sun yet have reach its goal. A hispers, hear the last greetings from winter's white snow, now gone. s. Summer is here, but winter echoes still in the air.
A forest p
A phantom from the polar woods. An apparition of a timeless hunt. The etheral being, ghost of northern woods, at several places at one time, flying as of not this world. Timeless, painting time, changing her existence. No reason to question its many mythical descriptions. It's there, but it's elsewhere: there, here, somewhere; same instance of time. It's fast, seen as slow. An owl flying, the beauty in an owl hunting. Here a place where nothing exists, nothing exists if not being in the making.
Rapids in the shade
Thundering rapids, grinding ways through the stones and bones of the arctic ancestral earthen homes. Rainbows are glistening there, an atmosphere with gusts of mountain air. The mist does clothe everything in dreamy silken flares. Colours damp, outlines fluid. The sun shines with heavy intent, but here above the streams the sun still is only a distant buccaneer. A tale filtered through the mists of waters moving. The mist, the sounds, say the same: I reside here, the great rapid, the great waterfall, this is my domain, the sun will also listen.
The misty m
What do dwell in mystical mountains: dragons, trolls, gobl silver bracelets, gold amulets, everything is here, see. Every ful shoulders. See the treasures glistening in the sun. See, moments, hear, the flute is playing, playing the rays from a m with her golden curls moving in the air. Do you see her danc the great treasures of legend and fable. There for you to see like me, you ca
lings, treasures too great to fathom. Gems of lasting beauty, ything is here, see the treasures on slender necks and grace, a beauty in white woven glacier's silk. Dancing in the misty midnights sun. There, do you see the mountain's dancing lady cing there. Do you see her gracefully moving. Where do reside e. There for you to see. Keep treasures safe, keep the gems safe, arry them on.
A gentle mountain stream
Crystal clear are the waters that twist and turn through the stony steep hills. Only a hint of summer in this cold cold water. Liquid is the form of this crystal of the mountains. Pure, gentle, but treacherous. Slippery stones, slippery green pearly growths. rest a while on the mountain side, breathe in the clean air, reach out your arm, take a nip. You drink from the palm of your hand, take a sip, the cold clear water, but listen: Be beware, take these steps with care.
There a gentle breeze from the valley. The sun sweeping gently across t still in the shadow, see the light draw its routes through. In the sha On way to
the heights. Mist and clouds dancing in circles through the mounds. Stay ade, the restlessly sparkling waterfall catch the sun's late evening rays. owards a sea.
The silver hair of the mountain 22 lady fair
I'll always remember the silvery hair of the lady mountain, so fair. See her there, combing hair, in her watery lair. Like a Siren calling: come to me, come to me. Move closer, heed the calling, she's gone. Memories of her silver hair lingers on. Here again, there she is, please, wait for me, lady mountain fair. Wait for me lady mountain fair, with the silver hair. Wait for me lady mountain fair, Wait for me, wait for me, please, Lady mountain fair I see your silvery hair, Please wait for me lady mountain so fair. I see your silvery hair.
A silent moment
A fleeting moment, time stands still: no wind, a breeze. Clouds gather, clouds gather, round the mountain's peak, time flees. There is no time, there is no place, just a moment in the great nature's maze. A moment of reflection, a moment of silence, a moment, a thought.
The seeking sun 26
The sun paints the landscape, insects fly through the air, a fish stirs the mirror lake, the sun scans the landscape. Moist haze and warm sunny rays, shine brighth do the mountain's snowy flakes, shine brighth do the mountain's snowy flakes.
Rolling green hills
Up and down, up and down, up and down, do go the green waves of northern landscapes. Gathering mist, rolling are the green hills of mountains still. Emerald green velvets they are, thin silver satins above and gone. Up and down, up and down, up and down, do go the green waves of northern landscapes. Up and down, up and down, up and down, do go the green waves of northern landscapes.
Mist flowing through green lines
Slowly creeping comes the haze of evenings nearing. Mist moves between the birches black. These trees endure; storm and wintery breezes, may they take a sleep in the summer's misty evenings. Green lines of mountain sides. Roads on battered birchy slopes. Black, white, green, again, the mist rolls to you again.
Mountain lake r
reflecting, the midnight sun painting
Clouds gathering as canvas. Neptune of nordic oceans paints boldly. Coloring the vistas with the midnight sun as mistress. Fine are the flavours of Neptune's colours. Finer still are the touches of Neptune's oceanic brushes. Mirror the magnificence of mountainous reaches. Color the landscapes with midnight's mistress. Paint the lines with mystical ease.
A hidden paradise Climb, climb up the slopes. Search for a paradise of old. Climb, climb up the slopes. Waters' voices whisper out. Climb, climb up the slopes. wonders found amidst the ancient stones. Clear, a pool of times gone by, a paradise on the mountain side. Here hidden, a silent pool, a paradise on the mountain's side. Here you would stay. Step into the inviting wake. Marvel views of stony terrain, See a lake from empore. Fish dance their mystic dances. Clouds frame the silent scene. Seclude, a pool, here waterfalls end. a moment in serenity Here a paradise on the mountain side. Climb, climb up the slopes. Search for a paradise of old. Climb, climb up the slopes. Waters' voices whisper out. Climb, climb up the slopes. wonder found amidst the ancient stones.
The clouds are coming
Here it gets tricky. a rocky mountain side, lots of camera equipment, clouds and mist advancing fast. The humid mist, near rain engulfs everything. Quickly, pack down the equipment to safety. The rain is near. Fasten the load on your back and leave. Soon it'll be even harder to see the rocks and passages on the mountain side. Stone will get a lot more slippery. It's time to leave, It's time to leave now. Now, down the mountain side as fast as you can. Watch your step! Start climbing down now, before it's too late...
Midnight sun breaking through the mist
Safely down, the mist, rain and clouds take a firm grip of the mountain. The midnight sun try to reach the mountain for the very last time. You feel tired from the climb, your muscles ache, but the beauty you've seen makes your soul sing beautiful tones. There is something eternal in these landscapes. There is something endless in these landscapes. But do keep in mind that you mainly visit nature's sunny sides. There is a real harshness beside the dreams of silver linings.
Iconic landscapes, thousands of 40 tourists, thousands of photos, a paradox of time
An ancient landscape, thousands of visitors, thousands of pictures, fleeting time. Perpetual movement, perpetual awe, it stays. people come and go, taking their pictures, it stays, the razor teeth peaks they stay. People come and go, but the landscape stays. People come and go amazed. People come and go in awe. People come and go, klick, klick, klick, klick! People come and go, landscapes stay.
At the edge
No clouds, but rain is here. No storm, but thunder. Not simple chasm. Perpetual rain is here. Perpetual thunde brave enough, down, down the ledg
Rain is in the air
t a moment, time. Thundering, echoing the great waterfall fills the er is here. No clouds, rain, here where the waters thunder. If found ge and there you see something slightly unreal.
Polar living 46
Living on the banks of arctic fjords. Nature is always near, making itself heard. It's there. It's there when you watch out of the window. It's there when you walk out the door. It's there with you on your daily travels. It's everywhere. It's there. It's real. It's there. It's been so. It's been so for hundreds of generations. It's been so for people living here. It is so. Some things change through the ages, but nature takes all the stages.
Man's marks on the landscape
Man has made its marks on the polar landscapes. For centuries have tough men and women tried to get their living from the polar lands. they are in part a part of the fabric of the landscape. Beauty in its own rigths: a purple meadow in a fjord bordering the arctic seas. Glistening in the runaway rays of the sun. Rays find their way through the low fast moving clouds. An icy wind reminds you of what is just only around the corner: the arctic seas.
e n o g g n o l s e m i t Memories from
Stories told, stories carved in stone, stories from mysterious ages. These places, these holy places, these places are the markings of ages. Gather around, hear a story, start a journey with your spiritual animal family. remember, predict, enjoy a story. Suddenly over the mountain's top rolls dark clouds, dark clouds nearing fast. Dark clouds that weren't there. Dark clouds that weren't there. Dark clouds that weren't there. A gush of rain stains the place. A gush of rain stains the place. Rain take the loose edges away, the stony carvings they stay.
The sun scorching, horseflies on 52 raids The heat of the sun is taking its toll, eyes water and sting as none. The marshy landscapes, the brink of slowly running waters, the armies of giant horseflies hunting. No wind, no rain just a marshy landscape trying to get away. A feel of dusty turf lingers in the air. a cloud sweeps across the river's lucid mirror face. a magic place, but no shade where to stay.
Hard and soft
Stone meets clouds, young meets old, a slippery slope where the stories grow. soft meets a dome, new sees the unfathomably old. a rocky face in a white embrace.
Turquoise and green
A silent cravasse, a turquoise river and a green embankment. The sun shining through the night, giving its fine nuances to the unforgettable natural palace. Ledges on both sides of the turquoise stream. The stream moving its way through the emerald green. Light stone on the river bed, dark stone on the ledges head, black stems of the enduring birch patches, the intence green of the berry plants. My heart takes a step. This is it, this is the beauty of polar landscapes.
Midnight sun painting boldly
Marvels of the midnight sun reach over the mountain ridges. Soon the sun is gone, shadowed by the mountain tops. Magenta, gold and silvery blue gently sweeps through the chasm. Nuances painting long lofty lines. Light gets better and better, the night gets older and older. The shadows grow deeper and deeper, time to leave, the way up gets darker and darker, the shadows thicken still, time to leave. The light gets better and better, just one more, just one more. Shadow's crasping the stony ridge. Shadow fades the paths away, time to leave. light gets better and better. The shadows grow deeper and deeper, time to leave, the shadows thicken still, just one more, just one more, just one more picture I'm to take...
Scale and a fisherman's tale
Stony mounds on the fjords north-eastern coast: timeless lines, timeless space, vast areas of hillside trails. Big is nature, bigger than thought, big are the fishes in fishermen's thoughts. Let landscape put a fisherman in place. These are not stories, the scales are not weighed in fame. See a fisherman, measure scales from all the tales.
Top of the world Target, the top of the world, Target, the top of the world. Endless vistas from, top of the world, Endless paths from, top of the world. Touch the clouds, soon you are nowhere to be found. Top of the wolrd, top of the wolrd, There build gods of men their cloudy homes. The top of the world, the top of the world, clouds come, you are there, nowhere.
Looking back Glance back, see the ways of arctic tales, Look back, See the times of days gone past. Pick up the polar poems, Stack up the arctic images. See north, from there the tales were brought. See north where the polar landscapes are gone. Follow the lasting river down south, follow it, a way to the sea.
Last rays of the midnight sun
A lonely pine, north is the compass, last rays of the midnight sun streching, streching to the southern areas bordering polar zones. Here it stops the polar stories, here they end. The last rays of the midnight sun climb from behind the northern landscapes. Insects pound the photographer's shoulders like rain drops from a tempest madness. This not a polar picture, This is not a polar story, This is only a photographer ending the story. Arctic observations, arctic images, polar poems, this is not the place, It's only a beautiful northern landscape.
Hope you enjoyed the journey, followed the polar poems and felt the arctic images.
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