A flash of lycra, vivid, tight,
A helmet gleams in morning light.
Down Elizabeth, swift and free,
A biker blurs like poetry.
The city hums, the pavement sings,
Wheels spin dreams on fleeting wings.
Steel and flesh in motion blend—
A rush, a roar, the street’s own friend.
Between the buildings tall and gray,
The cyclist carves a fleeting way.
With every pedal, swift and sure,
The pulse of Melbourne rides secure.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 887
Laughter on Bourke
He sat in sun, a man of years,
With laughter loud that chased the fears,
In sunglasses, his joy a flare
That split the noon with blazing care.
Beside him, quiet, his small young son,
A shadow short beneath the sun,
Looked up as if to catch the fire
That lit his father's brief desire.
The street around, a surging tide,
With trams and heels and time's long stride,
Yet in that pause the world stood still—
Just sun and blood, and love’s goodwill.
A city’s heart beat all around,
But sweeter was that human sound:
A father's laugh, deep-cut and real,
That spoke what mouths can’t always feel.
On Bourke they sat, mid noon’s wide sprawl,
Two lives adrift, yet held by all—
By sunlight, kinship, breath, and grace,
And joy that time cannot erase.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 886 This has been one of the top 10 favorite posted on my blog here
(Same poem as yesterday)
A youth with mullet trailing wild,
A cap hung low, the city’s child,
Stood firm where footsteps throng and blur,
His violin his saboteur.
With rosined bow and eyes cast low,
He summoned tunes both fast and slow,
Each note a cry, a silver thread
Unspooling dreams the street had shed.
Behind him flowed the tram’s refrain,
Its bell a chime through smoke and rain,
While cars crawled past in tangled streams,
Oblivious to his stitched dreams.
He played not for applause or coin,
But for the world he might rejoin—
Where echoes rise through autumn's breath,
And songs outlive the hush of death.
Bourke watched in greys and neon hue,
As music flared and nightfall grew.
The crowd passed by, then circled round—
A boy, a bow, defying sound.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out
A youth with mullet trailing wild,
A cap hung low, the city’s child,
Stood firm where footsteps throng and blur,
His violin his saboteur.
With rosined bow and eyes cast low,
He summoned tunes both fast and slow,
Each note a cry, a silver thread
Unspooling dreams the street had shed.
Behind him flowed the tram’s refrain,
Its bell a chime through smoke and rain,
While cars crawled past in tangled streams,
Oblivious to his stitched dreams.
He played not for applause or coin,
But for the world he might rejoin—
Where echoes rise through autumn's breath,
And songs outlive the hush of death.
Bourke watched in greys and neon hue,
As music flared and nightfall grew.
The crowd passed by, then circled round—
A boy, a bow, defying sound.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 885
A Lady on Bourke in Greying Light
Upon the cobbles of Bourke Street fair,
Where trams do hum through autumn air,
A lady passed in monochrome,
Her youth aglow though shades had grown.
She walked alone, yet not alone,
For in her ears sweet tunes had flown,
A Walkman played its whispered song,
A timeworn tape that sang along.
Her tresses curled like drifting flame,
Though black and white concealed her name,
She bore her spoils in papered grace,
From shops agleam in city’s face.
A bum bag slung with no pretense,
‘Twixt fashion’s flair and innocence,
She paused beneath the falling leaves,
As dusk drew in on gentle eves.
No winter yet, but chill in shade,
The light grew thin, yet undismayed,
She danced in step with music’s flow,
A fleeting ghost from long ago.
And though the years may swiftly pass,
Like tramlines threading panes of glass,
Still in that frame she softly stands—
A song, a stroll, two listening hands.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 884 and FACE OFF
Upon Swanston Street where tram bells chime,
In Melbourne’s heart and city’s prime,
A young chap stands in shirt and cap,
Beside his cart, a silver map.
His hands are quick, his manner keen,
He serves up swirls of cold and cream—
In cones like spires, in bowls like bells,
A moment’s joy his labour tells.
The footpath hums with boots and haste,
Yet here, they pause for sugared taste.
Beneath the clock, beneath the sky,
The city breathes, and time slips by.
A lady laughs, a child grins wide,
The chap with pride stands just beside.
No colours blaze—just black and white,
Yet in this frame, the world feels right.
The tram glides past with iron sigh,
A gull wheels low, then climbs the sky.
And still he stands, his trade the same—
A fleeting joy, a quiet flame.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 879
A man of broad and burdened frame
Did walk where trams and voices came;
His gaze was cast toward the stone,
As though the world were not his own.
Each step he took was slow, profound,
A rhythm lost in city sound;
Yet in his path, a silent grace—
A soul adrift, yet not erased.
The passers moved in hurried flight,
While he remained—a grounded sight;
No glance he raised, no word he said,
But bore the weight of thought instead.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 826
By Jackson’s wall on Flinders wide,
Where trams do groan and footsteps glide,
A lady walks in coat of grace,
With shaded eyes and steadfast face.
Her trench is tied in noble thread,
Like whispers stitched from times long dead,
Its folds command the morning air,
As though she strolled from Baudelaire.
The city hums, a restless tide,
Where strangers pass and thoughts collide;
Yet still she moves, serene, apart,
A quiet world around her heart.
The crowd flows on in clashing stream,
Each caught within their private dream,
While she, composed in poise and form,
Stands like a calm within the storm.
And over her frame the light does play,
As clouds retreat from break of day;
In monochrome, she seems to be
A ghost of grace and memory.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm 1.8 GM
Check out Candid 825
On Russell Street where broths arise,
Steam curls beneath the dusky skies.
Each door a portal, warm and wide,
To ramen dreams that boil inside.
A gentleman in sweater thread,
With thoughtful steps and quiet tread,
Descends the lane in twilight's art,
And bites into a humble tart.
Its filling sweet, its crust so fine,
A subtle dance of fruit and brine.
While savory scents around him float,
He savors both—what shops promote,
And sweetness crumbling at his throat.
So moves he through that evening fair,
With tart in hand and ramen air—
A fusion walk of taste and time,
On Russell’s road, half prose, half rhyme.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 814
A young chap strides with a rhythm bold,
Curly hair wild, like stories untold.
Down Swanston Street where the city hums,
He walks to the beat of invisible drums.
Large earphones wrap his head in sound,
A private concert as feet meet ground.
Dock pants swish with a casual flair,
Swagger of youth, breeze in the air.
The trams roll by, the pigeons flee,
But he's lost in a world only he can see.
Basslines bounce through his steady pace,
A grin half-formed on his traveler's face.
Melbourne moves with its usual din,
But he’s wrapped in music, deep within.
Not chasing time, just catching a vibe,
A living pulse in the city's tribe.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 807
A tall, slender man in a suit so neat,
Glides down Swanston with echoing feet.
His coat catches wind like a fleeting thought,
A figure of grace the morning forgot.
Phone in his hand, face lit by the screen,
Eyes on the glow, lost in the sheen.
Among the crowd, yet utterly lone,
Each soul adrift in a world of their own.
Trams hum past with a city’s refrain,
Umbrellas bloom in a whisper of rain.
The old stones watch with quiet delight,
At men made of flesh but minds made of light.
So he walks, like the rest—plugged and apart—
A shadow of steel with a fast-beating heart.
In the dance of the modern, the digital stream,
Reality bends like a half-faded dream.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 806
A row of bath boxes, bright and bold,
Striped in sunshine, red and gold.
Set by the sand where waves embrace,
A timeless charm, a seaside grace.
Yet midst the hues of ocean’s cheer,
One lone figure—oddly here.
A jumper thick, in woolen weight,
As if the sun could not relate.
Head bent low, eyes on screen,
Lost in a world unseen.
While gulls cried out and breezes played,
He scrolled, aloof, his gaze delayed.
Did he seek the tides of thought?
Or answers that the sea forgot?
While Brighton’s boxes stood in line,
He missed their magic, lost in time.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 792
I was always advised that one should own several suits before embarking on a professional career. However, for the past twenty years, I have worn the same suit, now so worn that even the sleeves bear holes.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 784
The couple exudes a distinctly different aura, one that is notably athletic in nature.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 783
She traces lines upon her hand,
As if they whisper fate’s command.
A secret map, so faint yet true,
A tale of past and future too.
Her fingers dance on paths unknown,
In every crease, a seed is sown.
Does love lie near or drift away?
Do golden dreams begin to stray?
The heart line bends, the lifeline sways,
She seeks the truth in tangled maze.
Yet in her palm, no fate is cast—
Her future shapes with each step past.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 782 and FACE OFF
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 781
A young gentleman reclineth upon the verdant lawn, delighting in the perusal of his phone before the grand edifice of the state library.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 780
Oh, joyous is the soul who stands mid-tier,
Yet roams the streets when noon draws near.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 779
Upon Collins, where footsteps glide,
The city hums in bustling stride.
Yet eyes fall not on sights anew,
But screens that glow in glassy hue.
In hand it rests, both bright and keen,
A modern charm—this silent screen.
No glance to skies, no words take flight,
Just scrolling hands in neon light.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 778
Upon the bustling city's lane,
Where melodies once soared in vain,
He strums no more by lantern's glow,
His tunes now lost where echoes go.
Bourke Street hums with weary tread,
Yet lacks the songs once widely spread.
The hollow wind, it hums alone—
A minstrel's voice now turned to stone.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 778
