Iron and glass imaginations.

Iron images lay useless, expendable and about in dusty old towns full of architectural lofty webs, vagrant creatures and rust! Piled into the junked heaps of man, laden with cloths and stain ridden sheets covering the former glory of what was once prized in an earlier century by meager aristocracy. Trash heaps now are rummaged through for the former renaissances of yesterday and tomorrow restored to be placed as a plundered trophy to be admired by the new generations of notable enthusiasts of art and other collectable's.


Well travelled pieces far from their origins manhandled by dozens of marauders. Once mantled high in pristine surrounds of the prestigious, now discarded to the rear barn or workshop and even found in peculiar small boutiques, undervalued and unsung, these forgotten treasures now embellishing the impoverished obscure corners of the world.

Classic and rare restoration befits these individualised curios, but still rejected by the fascinate intrusions of the novice eye, all avail me to photograph the inept realisations of wonder....impotent are the conceptions of the craftsmen that laboured relentlessly with passion over these opulent creations. Never to be realised are the thoughts and intent of origins dedicated to each and every piece. These now a vain labour, trampled over by indiscriminate owners without imaginations or recollections of history or birth.

Open your eyes with a reflective heart and contemplate, speculate and consider for these are now forged forever in time from the imaginations of man! The Creator of earthly treasure!

Rinaldo

I Write!

Inevitably I write in the hope that I will impact a life, impress a heart, negate a thwart demise or instruct in wisdom. To perform language whilst creating imagery the beneficiary boasts of unscaled parallels.

Plights and inoculate wonders transgress the infant soul, endearments and verse of kind that familiarises the heart with quaint offerings of the past that has beset us.
Tomorrows pains and yesterday conquests regale the senses and potent the conscience. Simple and complex I write of tales, fact and babbling's of the fragile, whilst emotion carries you the reader to my plain of existence. Pretentious or obscure the thoughts and notes of worldliness leave the soul unlimited. I write to indulge to elaborate and protest that this emergence of man has been before us and will again inhabit the next. For tomorrow the sun will rise and you can touch the heavens, render me useless with your own verse. Contemplate all that has been, but be assured of this one fact, you may never see another sun set. So forge your words and cast your soul to another, share inspiration and conclude this life for death creeps quickly and swallows us all.

Rinaldo

Baby Awareness Week!

As it is "Baby Awareness Week" it's only fitting that I continue to share my life and that, which effects many.

In 1994 we were given a child by God as it was the year of the family. Sadly though this child died before we got to know him or hold him in our arms. He is with the Lord now in heaven. Heavily my wife and I were gutted, and the promise of God at the time failed us. When we arrived home I put my thoughts on paper as is my custom and this is what I wrote. I pray that this may encourage or bring solace to many that have experienced the loss of a child or loved one.
 
Our Loss, Heavens Gain

As rain falls gently against the windows,
And the corridor long and darkened,
We embrace our sunken hearts and begin
our journey home.
With footsteps echoing in the corridor,
Silence surrounds us, words fail, faces a blur
The wipers sway back and forth,
relentlessly pushing back the rain.
The drive home is silent,
Torment and heartache accompanying our emptiness
And visions of our child are etched in our minds.
Linda’s womb lay bare now, where just yesterday
Our child lived and was loved.
The night blankets us with pain, too much to bear,
But our love for one another comforts and God’s
Presence shares in our grief.
As a candles flame flickers in silence, the shadows
Of sorrow are embossed upon the walls.
Heartache and loss return in a second as we
Awake, was it a dream!?
No, the reality crushes us in a moment,
As we pull back the curtains to daylight.
Who are we to question?
OUR LOSS IS HEAVEN’S GAIN
We know our God and love Him dearly,
Our baby is now with Him.
Not a single tear will ever stream his face,
And an imperfect world will never blemish
his perfect form.
Peace, peace, peace......surrounds us!
Our faith is in God and soon......we will see our child!

By Ron Lucas
For Tyler Aaron 19 January 1994

That very year on the 2nd of December 1994, God blessed us with another son, Jacob Aaron! He kept His promise....

Busy busy busy....

Sorry for my lack of entries of late but I have been so caught up with my new camera. I will be back shortly to continue my epilogues, so until then please take a look at this site for a sneak peak at my photographs.

Rinaldo

http://imageryofthesoul.blogspot.com/

The Garden!

Profusely rustic, tangible and aged. Some manicured pockets of roomed jungle. The scent of wet gums and watered mulch whilst dripping with the lingering moisture. Moss and shade covered statues and concrete urns, intertwined creepers reaching toward sun light. The crunch of gravel underfoot and exposed weeds with tiny flower imbedded in the long paths surrounding the garden's serenity. Densely populated with climbers and creepers the dampness permeates my skin and the cool shadows are welcomed from the heat of the summer sun. A breeze sweeps through the open corridors of paths whilst birches sway gently and let in filtered light. Cool benches under canopies are positioned at random with tableau's of sculptures and iridescent plant life. Grains of timber exposed and textures of bark enable visual tones, whilst my senses take in tastes and aromas of ancient earth. Its beauty implodes on all of my senses and I snap away endless frames through the lens of my mind. Touch is waxy smooth and cool, subtle lines and veins of foliage are at my finger tips. I reach for more and brush petals against my lips, soft and delicate, sweet fragrances captivate my soul and the residue long lasting as I continue to fondle this romantic gentile flower in a delicate grasp so as not to crush its dainty shape. A butterfly in all its glory flutters past and glances at my towering intrusion to its terrain but its flight is lengthened as its interest is captured for a moment. Again it sails off and set course for a lofty branch high and relaxes on a grand leaf in the forest. To me I am man in Eden walking in the cool depths of the day seeking solitude and solace, perpetual rest, endless peace.....

Check out my new blog!

http://imageryofthesoul.blogspot.com/

Just click on the link to see my new blog......Thanks Rinaldo