Photosecrets of Lee David Ingleby
Gulnara Valizhanovna Jabbarova
“Photosecrets” is a poetic analysis of photographic thinking, hidden essence of random photographs in exotic Bhutan, in mysterious India, in charming France, in good old England. Photo exaggeration is an opportunity to penetrate the secret world of a movie star. The book’s cover and the book were illustrated with photographs taken from free photo stocks. The book is dedicated to my favorite artist Lee David Ingleby (Inspector Gently, Criminal UK, Crossfire, and The Hunt for Raoul Moat).
Photosecrets of Lee David Ingleby
Gulnara Valizhanovna Jabbarova
© Gulnara Valizhanovna Jabbarova, 2023
ISBN 978-5-0059-9887-3
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
One-eyed moon
Sticky moon
Some one’s else welfare,
That keeps eyebrow in horror and fear.
Sticky moon, scared mask,
Looks at the Earth, and ask:
What vulgar people is this?
Red mouth bitten in blood, bitten lips twist:
Crooked teeth cannot eat that much!
Scrambled eggs down at my fat face!
How many of them! Oh, space!
Steel capsule covered my eye in coin!
Dipped in deep lovers to count and settle accounts!
I am trembling, trembling at night and light!
MY SOUL, LORELEI
My soul, Lorelei,
In desperation.
I’m flying to you and running away.
She covered her eyes without to say,
With hands.
I’m flying to you and running away,
Like jumping into the abyss.
At the hour, when the sunset is so lovely.
And a monk rejects everything way,
Chanting radiance in Heaven without to say.
Time is like a film, it splay.
My soul, Sappho,
Freezing in being.
I am running to her, to Phaon,
And running away.
My hands, my feet spinning around me,
Like a disk.
Splash, in the middle of it,
Inside the frame, it’s me.
Zephyr’s force the game to play,
The Earth’s gravity the time to say.
Its attraction is the grave,
Silent Guernica waiting for milk.
Will I spill there,
Your son, seduced by you?
Through my milk necklace.
Motherhood is like an abyss,
To disappear.
A second before waking up
Your bumblebee,
Oh, Galla!
LIKE A MOTHER’S BREAST
Like a mother’s breast,
Like the number six,
You can’t remember
The beauty of the Taj.
And this contrast is woven
Lunar escape light.
You will fight,
You will cream into the radio station.
A fans over you, like
Acacias leaning.
All you need is standing ovation.
Small ship in the desert real,
You forgot the world «mutacabbir».
IN PREDESTRUCTION
Cracks, in the flow like leaves.
Silent «Mu» calls.
The creaky rusty world froze.
Darkening, the Earth flies and the birds,
Another moment, the bell ring,
Newspapers will sing,
The rusting world crumbles,
