Melbourne Candid Series #1144 The Causeway

 

Upon The Causeway, still she sits,
In Melbourne’s hush where shadow knits
The woven light of afternoon
Into a monochrome cocoon.

A café chair, a frame of grace,
She lifts her eyes, a silent face
Held fast by thought, or winds unseen,
That stir the mind where none have been.

No coffee touched, no glance returns—
Only the distant skyline burns
Its outline through the softened grey
Of half-spent time and slipping day.

Her coat hangs loose, her hair undone,
The city moves, but she is one
With something past the tramline’s end,
A lost, invisible old friend.

She does not blink. The hour grows thin.
The world continues crowding in—
But on that chair she drifts apart,
A grayscale ghost with pulsing heart.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 898

Melbourne Candid Series #1141 The Causeway

 

A bald waiter moves with silent grace,
Wiping down each coffee trace.
On the Causeway where footsteps blend,
He tends the tables end to end.

A flick of cloth, a tilted plate,
He works beneath the café's weight.
The city's hum, the clink of cups,
The morning slowly gathering up.

No spotlight shines, no curtain call,
Yet in his rhythm, dignity tall.
A quiet craft, no need for fame—
Just honest work beneath his name.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM 

Check out Candid 895

Melbourne Candid Series #1138 Hosier Lane

 

On Hosier Lane where the murals breathe,
A man walks uphill with sunlight sheathed—
Gleaming shades on his silent face,
Each step wrapped in the lane’s embrace.

His wife beside, her hand in his own,
Two shadows stretching on cobblestone.
She leans like memory, soft and near,
He leads like time with nothing to fear.

The walls around burst wild with hue,
But they move quiet, just passing through—
A moment framed in a painted land,
Love uphill, hand in hand.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 892 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1137 Little Lonsdale St

 

On Little Lonsdale, under silver skies, he stands
A bald man in suit, with upturned eyes and hands.
A microphone clutched like a herald’s call,
Words poised to rise above city’s sprawl.

A leather strapbag hugs his side, worn deep,
Stories stitched in folds it’s sworn to keep.
The satchel slung with a scholar’s grace,
Heavy with maps of a wandering place.

He does not speak, but listens to air,
To trams that sing and the footfall’s prayer.
In the hush between towers’ glass and stone,
He finds a pulpit in being alone.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 891

Melbourne Candid Series #1136 Collins St

 

On Collins Street they walked as two,
Beneath the sky of cloud and blue.
Their steps were slow, their silence deep,
As though they bore a care they’d keep.

The husband wore his dark disguise,
His sunglasses veiling thoughtful eyes.
While on her head, in morning glare,
Her shades lay tangled in her hair.

Together yet each mind alone,
They wandered through the heart of stone—
In Melbourne's light, their shadows cast,
By present fears and echoes past.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 890

Melbourne Candid Series #1134 Swanston St

 

In the sun, she moves with quiet grace,
A pram before her, steady pace.
Down Swanston Street where footsteps flow,
Through the city’s midday glow.

The crowd surges, a restless stream,
Shadows flit and windows gleam.
But she — a calm within the tide,
With a plaid of hair swung to one side.

The tram bell rings, the pigeons stir,
Yet all the world slows down for her.
A mother’s rhythm, firm yet light,
Carving day from neon light.

Melbourne pulses, grand and wide,
But still she walks, with time beside.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 888

Melbourne Candid Series #1133 Elizabeth St

 

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

Melbourne Candid Series 1132 Bourke St Mall

 

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

Melbourne Candid Series #1131 Bourke St Melb

 

(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 

Melbourne Candid Series #1127 Flinders St

 

On Flinders Street in winter's breath,
Where light is low and still as death,
A family walked through morning's grey,
Their shapes cast long in soft decay.

One teenage boy stepped just ahead,
His gaze afar, thoughts loosely spread.
Behind, the father pushed the pram,
Its wheels in rhythm, slow and calm.

A younger child lay nestled deep,
Half-dreaming in a winter sleep.
The city's stir passed all around,
Yet peace within that pram was found.

The mother walked with silent grace,
Dark glasses veiled her watching face.
She turned to me—no smile, no frown,
Just knowing as she looked me down.

No need for words, no need for sound,
The tramline sang, the world spun round.
And in that frame of black and white,
They carried love through morning light.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 882

Melbourne Candid Series #1126 Hosier Lane

 

In Hosier Lane where shadows dwell,
And cobbled streets their secrets tell,
A man and woman paused their stride
To gaze into the sky wide-eyed.

Graffiti flared on every wall,
Yet they saw past the painted sprawl—
Not colours bold or rebel scrawl,
But something vast beyond it all.

Their heads were tilted, side by side,
Their breath a mist the cold supplied.
In black and white the moment stayed,
Two figures caught in light and shade.

What did they seek above the stone?
A passing bird, a world unknown?
The clouds perhaps, or trailing plane,
Or simply wonder, pure, unfeigned.

No words were said, no need to speak,
The silent sky was wide and bleak.
But in that hush, as time slipped by,
They touched the edge of winter’s sky.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 881

Melbourne Candid Series #1121 Collins St

 

On Collins Street beneath the glare,
A man with short-cropped wind-tossed hair
Twists his body, leans askew,
As if the sun had split him through.

His eyes are shut, a fleeting shield
Against the blaze the noon revealed.
A T-shirt clings in summer’s heat,
A bag swings low with rhythmic beat.

Behind, the crowd flows like a stream,
Each face absorbed in its own dream.
But he, alone in this brief fight,
Moves through the shimmer, squints at light.

A moment caught—so strangely bright—
Of man and motion, sun and spite.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 877

Melbourne Candid Series #1119 Latrobe St

 

A moody lane off La Trobe’s line,
Where shadows stretch and wires entwine,
In monochrome the night is drawn,
A ghost of light before the dawn.

The cobbles slick with echoed rain,
Hold footsteps blurred, half lost in grain,
Each lamp a flicker, pale and stark,
Carves silver shapes into the dark.

No colour dares disturb the scene,
Just black and white and shades between—
A hush, a breath, the city bare,
As if the world forgot to care.

And yet, beneath that ghostly hue,
The night still whispers something true—
That even silence, dim and deep,
Can cradle dreams the dark must keep.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 875

Melbourne Candid Series #1115 Latrobe St

 

At night, just off LaTrobe’s long line,
Where windows glow with muted shine,
A restaurant hums with quiet grace—
A moment framed in time and place.

Inside, beneath the amber hue,
Where shadows soften every view,
An older woman nears a chair,
With silver thread upon her hair.

She moves with care, yet holds a light
That flickers gently in the night—
As if the years have bowed, not dimmed,
The quiet fire she keeps within.

A table waits—set four, not two—
With linen crisp and glasses dew,
And at its edge, a young man stands,
Delight cupped warmly in his hands.

His eyes are wide with welcome’s gleam,
His smile—a sun caught in a dream.
He greets her not with duty worn,
But joy, unpracticed and reborn.

And in that glance, a thread is tied,
Across the years, the lives, the tide.
No trumpet flares, no passer sees—
But something stirs, as soft as breeze.

For there, beyond the streetlight’s gleam,
Two hearts, in silence, start to dream.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 871 and FACE OFF

Melbourne Candid Series #1114 Latrobe St

 

From LaTrobe’s spine, a side street bends,
Where city’s edge and evening blends—
And there beneath the sodium light,
A gathering stirs the breath of night.

Outdoor tables, silver-clad,
Hold bowls half-full and glasses glad.
The diners speak in gentle rings,
Their laughter softened, fluttering wings.

But some have left their seats behind,
As if compelled by idle mind;
They drift among the chairs like breeze,
A loosened rhythm, aimless ease.

One lifts a glass, then walks away,
Another stands mid-thought, mid-sway—
As though the street itself might call
To taste the quiet in its thrall.

The waiters weave like ghosts through light,
Their trays afloat in charcoal night,
While overhead, the buildings lean
Like silent elders in between.

No haste, no hush—just human tide
That ebbs through Melbourne’s darker side.
A city’s pulse, low-lit, alive,
Where strangers sit, and stories thrive.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 870

Melbourne Candid Series #1113 Latrobe St

 

Off LaTrobe Street, where trams glide past
And Melbourne hums its stories fast,
A window holds a quiet frame—
Two figures lit by candle flame.

Night presses soft against the glass,
As strangers in the dark hours pass,
But here, within this warm-lit cave,
A pause—the kind that silence gave.

He leans, his right hand props his face,
Time draped across him, slow and base.
Eyes half-lost in drifting thought,
In words unsaid or battles fought.

She bows her gaze toward the plate,
A woman caught in inward state.
The silver waits, the wine grows thin,
But she has turned somewhere within.

They do not speak; they do not smile—
They sit apart across the tile
Of linen white and shadows low,
Two souls in dinner's afterglow.

Outside, the city does not care,
It flickers, breathes, and fills the air.
But here—a stillness sharp and deep,
Like love that lingers, half-asleep.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 869

Melbourne Candid Series #1112 Latrobe St

 

Beneath a bleached and silent sky,
LaTrobe Street hums a mournful sigh—
The past, half-laced with soot and steam,
Unfolds itself like some half-waking dream.

He walks alone, a ciphered man,
In coat of dusk and twilight’s span;
A brimmed hat veils his spectral gaze,
A face half-lost in London's haze.

He bears the shape of myth unwound,
Of orphaned tales on hallowed ground,
And though no wand adorns his hand,
He moves as though he might command
The dust to lift, the bricks to speak,
The ghosts that gather once a week.

Behind him leans a weathered place,
A structure smudged with time’s embrace—
Its windows dull with decades’ grime,
Its arches carved by soot and rhyme.

He does not pause, nor glance behind,
A pilgrim stitched from page and mind.
Not Harry, no—but someone born
From ink, from fog, from books well-worn.

And all around, the grayscale clings,
As if to quiet magic’s wings—
Yet still he walks, and still we yearn,
For spells to stir, and clocks to turn.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 868

Melbourne Candid Series #1110 Latrobe St

 

In grainy hush of silvered gloom,
I stand above—cemented room—
a carpark edge, the frame is set,
the city's bones in vignette.

Below, three figures dressed in dusk,
carved sharp in light’s depleted husk.
Their shadows stretch, then fall away—
black ink that bleeds through paper gray.

Each head is bowed, each hand aglow,
white screens like lanterns lit below.
No mouths are moved, no glances shared,
they stand like statues, unaware.

Their outlines flicker—smoke and steel,
young men absorbed, half-lost, half-real.
A blur of light on faces drawn,
as if the night could etch them gone.

The street behind—bare, endless scroll,
no sky, no stars, just shadow’s toll.
And I, above, outside the frame,
watch silence pulse beneath their names.

It is a vision, stark and still—
a photograph the dark would fill.
Not loneliness, but something near—
connection shaped by static fear.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 866

Melbourne Candid Series #1104 Latrobe St

 

On Latrobe Street, where night winds glide,
Three ladies sit on the porch outside.
Their laughter dances in the dusky air,
Beneath soft lamps with gentle stare.

By the bar, where windows breathe—
No glass to shield the night’s cool wreath—
Two ladies linger, drinks in hand,
Their voices hushed like ocean sand.

Melbourne hums a quiet tune,
Neon glow and silver moon.
Five souls in city’s evening gleam,
Framed in a poet’s fleeting dream.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 860

Melbourne Candid Series #1103 Latrobe St

 

Beneath the glow of Melbourne’s night,
On La Trobe where street lamps light,
A table hums with quiet cheer—
Chinese diners gathered near.

Their laughter soft, their voices low,
As city breezes gently blow.
Pasta twirls on lifted forks,
Steam rising up in fragrant corks.

Chili kissed the olive thread,
While stories in their language spread.
In bowls, a world both new and known—
Tradition met in foreign tone.

The night rolls on, a gentle stream,
Of noodle curls and shared daydream,
Where cultures blend in warm delight,
On La Trobe Street, deep in night.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Check out Candid 859