by Steve Tanham
What secret value do I hold That this – with dying seconds – Bestows its once-glory on my eyes And now on yours…? —- What is this act of seeing That knits the view and viewer new In such a way and with such love They were not ever two but twin? —- And yet… —- And yet kaleidoscope of ‘it’ Mocks egoscope of … Read More The Afterwhere
by Steve Tanham
With labyrinthine grace Not lacking pace The human mind: The snake devourer of the here Makes shapes of what it likes And doesn’t… —- The sum a palette: A well-stuffed wallet ‘Embrace, avoid or pass’ The money says As hissing head explores in dread A painting made by self In which its power of choice Is just a word… — Come heart and flower … Read More With Labyrinthine Grace
by Steve Tanham
St Peter Parasol With higher vision Perceives the Earth rotating Round and around The endless quest for truth In human mind revolves Crucified by greed And children’s slaughter His gaze seeks out The pretenders… That they, one day, Might know themselves In heart and share The tears… ©️Stephen Tanham 2025
by Steve Tanham
Beyond the Hawthorne Skies of blue Trick eye to thinking Summer’s due Not yet! The mind Replies, as frozen fingers May betray Spring’s breeze for Deeper pockets’ warmth. ©️Stephen Tanham 2025
by Steve Tanham
I love photographing fires. Domestic ones, usually. On Guy Fawkes’ Night (5th November), I can indulge this passion outdoors. But that’s a distant memory now. Usually, the results fail to justify the effort… The ‘euphoric’ energy and fulsome nature of the flames fails to come through to the image. But this shot – taken through the glass of the log-burner in our lounge – … Read More Egyptians in the flames
by Steve Tanham
There’s a tiny road that leads out of our village of Sedgwick, to cross the deep gorge of the often thundering River Kent. A quarter of a mile later it connects with the busy A590 that links the M6 motorway with the heart of The Lake District. There is usually one day, often in January, when a severe winter frost turns the leafless and … Read More A Bridge of Frost
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by Steve Tanham
It’s there quite clearly in the trunk. A lion, claws embedded firmly in the old wood to support its descending weight. Head down, eyes fixed on, well, you! Microseconds from reaching the ground, where it will be lord of life and death. I’ve passed here many times, but never seen it before. That’s the joy of winter light. It’s a whole n’other world out … Read More A Lion in Winter
by Steve Tanham
When the final colours of autumn fade, there comes a time when a photographer’s attention changes to shape… The fractal structures that propelled the fluids of life from Mother Earth to leaf, flower and fruit are revealed in near-monochrome starkness. Other ‘forms’, some man-made, emphasise this distinction and evolution. Their shapes invite a ‘softening’ technique when taking this kind of photograph. This suggests an … Read More Beyond the lens…
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by Steve Tanham
There’s always a day when you know you are walking among the ‘last of the leaves’. Following the River Kent along the last mile of its length is a good way to experience the ´final fading’ of the Autumn landscape. The steep banks of the river are covered in a variety of old trees – some of them dating back over a hundred years. … Read More Last Leaves
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by Steve Tanham
One of the advantages of taking Tess the collie out for her first dog-walk of the day is that feeling of being ‘immersed’ in the sights, smells and sounds of the seasons. Here in Cumbria, the summer fades off abruptly and the chilly early morning air is accompanied by often beautiful mists. The dog loves this time of year – perhaps favourite doggy smells … Read More And out into the misty morning
by Steve Tanham
Mid-afternoon; a phone call from one of the best friends from my college days saying that her journey to our twice a year reunion had gone better than expected and that she would be a hour early. Would we be in or should she park up somewhere and join us, later? Tess the collie was overdue a decent walk. A man in a big … Read More Three gifts from the sunset
by Steve Tanham
Above the folded, faded parasols Long-closed as dripping bathers left To lave and lather sun-screen From bodies exhausted with indolence. Abandoned paperbacks part-read discarded, folded with sticky fingers in pages marked for tomorrow… Point, mute, at the sky. +++ Where +++ Patterns like wild beasts’ pelts stretch From Africa to seas once crossed by Portuguese navigators whose outer space Was ocean, vast, un-mapped and … Read More Virgin sky
Sun in Gemini 
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