speaks volumes.

Kathryn: Mroy, whispers speak loud, don't they?

...and some of them will die in
silent darkness for the lack of air...

Kathryn: trapped, gasping for air,
silent whispers fade into nothingness

Powerful image. Absolutely stunning

Kathryn: Thanks so much, Marcie. The silence of the landscape in the middle of winter in northern Germany is stunning.

Mmm...interesting!

Kathryn: smits, a fellow Shutterchancer once told me that "interesting" is the kiss of death or in this case a silenced whisper Was that your intend? If it was, it is okay to tell me that you are not so keen on the photograph/concept.

Kathryn I dont know what it is but I like it.

Kathryn: It is a silent whisper uttered in the midst of the night during one of those long cold winters.

The whisper seems a be a message of anguish...more than just shortness of breath.

Your night-vision appliance is a remarkable instrument, Kathryn.

Kathryn: Of course, Ray. It is a whisper that never found its voice, a lack of air stifled it.

My night-vision appliance remains intact, Ray. Yours seems to work quite well too

Quite a powerful image Kathryn. Would there be a nightmare behing this?

Kathryn: Richard, a silenced whisper is a powerful and too many unspoken whispers might cause sleeplessness. Would this be the same as a nightmare?

Whatever the message, the picture is very appealing.

Kathryn: Nig, can't you hear the message or Is the message a silenced whisper ;-)

I'm with Vintage. I don't know what it is either but I like it. The more I look at it I maybe getting somewhere mmmm maybe I do get it after all.

Kathryn: Scotia, try this, close your eyes and think about what a silenced whisper would feel like...image you had something you just HAD to whisper, but the whisper was stuck like VZ's raindrops in a spider's web

http://nostalgia.shutterchance.com/photoblog/Tales_from_My_Garden:_Last_Kiss_Before_the_Final_Jump_/


Now open your eyes and relook at the photograph. Do you get it now?

The word 'emanations' came into my head. Not entirely sure why, bnut it seems to fit.

Kathryn: Ian, what a compliment!

Ah Kathryn - still the master of capturing emotions. This is superb. I look at it and, for me, the silent whispers are unutterable truths. (:o|

Kathryn: Rosalyn, silent whispers and unutterable truths spring from the same underground well

a wonderful abstract pic- early in the morning when the "rosenfingrige Eos" awakes...
You know my fascination by poetry, only some words from Mörike " On a Winter morning before Sunrise":
O flaumenleichte Zeit der dunkeln Frühe!
Welch neue Welt bewegest du in mir?
Was ist's, daß ich auf einmal nun in dir
Von sanfter Wollust meines Daseins glühe?

Einem Kristall gleicht meine Seele nun,
Den noch kein falscher Strahl des Lichts getroffen;
Zu fluten scheint mein Geist, er scheint zu ruhn,
Dem Eindruck naher Wunderkräfte offen,
...
Dort, sieh, am Horizont lüpft sich der Vorhang schon!
Es träumt der Tag, nun sei die Nacht entflohn;
Die Purpurlippe, die geschlossen lag,
Haucht, halbgeöffnet, süße Atemzüge:
Auf einmal blitzt das Aug, und, wie ein Gott, der Tag
Beginnt im Sprung die königlichen Flüge!

English translation:
http://books.google.de/books?id=fIw0m8dtU-EC&pg=PA67&lpg=PA67&dq=M%C3%B6rike+On+a+winter+morning+before+sunrise+&source=web&ots=IORK7ZatCl&sig=a5B7kK-6x3QeTDLQqF5bB6YzESc&hl=de&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=1&ct=result

Kathryn: Philine, your knowledge of poetry and your having experienced those winter mornings before sunrise merge seamlessly.

I love the entire poem and this line in particular captures the essence of my photograph:

"my mind, still as still water, moving like a stream"

Oh that is such a powerful concept---

Reading your comment directed to vintage I have chosen a better beautiful poem for you: also from Mörike, At midnight ("Gelassen stieg die Nacht an Land..."), which is whispering...

Night stepped on land at measured pace,
Leans dreaming on the mountains' face,
Her eye beholds time's golden pair of scales
Completely balanced at that time of day.
More boldly the springs rush forth and they ring,
In the ear of the night, their mother, they sing
Of the day that was today.

That age-old, ancient lullaby,
It tires her, shuts ear and eye;
To her the heaven's blue still sounds more sweet
And all the curvèd spans of hours that fleet.
But ever the springs their carols repeat,
The waters continually sing in their sleep
Of the day that was today.

Kathryn: Philine, my creativity has been a bit low lately, but when I read poetry like this, I am inspired to write more. Thank you. Beautiful concepts in this poem, which I will revisit photographically and poetically.

Another terrific image Kathryn.
The title is perfect.

Kathryn: thanks, Aussie---the title is what I was thinking of...those words never uttered, that stick on your throat.

I must be on the wrong wavelength today Kathryn. To me this is a minimalist landscape. A vague image of trees in a winter setting. Still, having said that can I just whisper that I like it anyway

Kathryn: Bill--perhaps you are a literal realist and the world needs you too. You are right..a minimalist landscape of vague trees in a winter setting. But I heard their silent whisper, just as I hear yours. Thank you.

way over my head Kathryn so such say i love the image and tone to it, great stuff

Kathryn: oh tim, don't sell yourself short. I've seen what you are capable of expressing through your photographs and you are no shallow man..

but using earthly strength
succeed in touching the sky

Excellent

Kathryn: oh yes, louis....touching the sky, even drifting to the milky way and beyond...those silent whispers have such power

I like the alien atmosphere. Very well done!

Kathryn: alien or alienated --either works.

An other poem which perhaps could be appropriate, but only the last sentences I would like to replace filling with words full of hope for you!

Theodor Storm: Geflüster der Nacht

Es ist ein Flüstern in der Nacht,
Es hat mich ganz um den Schlaf gebracht:
Ich fühl's, es will sich was verkünden
Und kann den Weg nicht zu mir finden.

Sind's Liebesworte, vertraut dem Wind,
Die unterwegs verwehet sind?
Oder ist's Unheil aus künftigen Tagen,
Das emsig drängt, sich anzusagen?

There is a whispering in the night -
it has kept me entirely from my sleep.
I feel it wants to tell me something,
and cannot find the way to me.

Are they words of love, confided to the wind,
and blown off course on the way?
Or is it some disaster from future days,
that eagerly hurries here to announce itself?
(Translated by Emily Ezust)

Beautiful composition, Kathryn!

Kathryn: thanks, Kay.

Beautiful composition, Kathryn!

Kathryn: double thanks, Kay.

If this was a song then it would be one by radiohead. "pyramid song", maybe.

Kathryn: minelmio, if this were a song, it would be a very minimal one...perhaps just the thought of a song.

out of the darkness sprang forth a darkness, darker. i gasped. i won't ask why.

Kathryn: silent whispers were born in darkness, terry

I love your work, and this one is really awesome!

Kathryn: Thanks kindly, Gina. They are little pieces of me that drip out and find their way here.