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Poet and photographer Brian Michael Barbeito


I am a poet and photographer from Southern Ontario, Canada. The majority of the current photography, and also prose poem work, seeks to frame nature landscapes. I have found that the four naturally changing seasons provide interesting different vistas and that the environment is an interesting and inspiring character in itself. 

The photography takes place on rural walking trails, fields, around ponds and lakes and green spaces in general. Many pictures are close ups of the local wildflowers and other growths such as raspberries or feral grape vines. I am self-taught and this photography evolved naturally, organically, during nature walks. Much of the time short descriptive writing vignettes and prose poems accompany the photographs. 

Pastoral Songs of the Summer Winds

Joyously we go out from having having traversed a back woodland path and admired agile butterfly, odd colourful insect, even seemingly prosaic artifacts of nature such as beige chaparral, June moth struggling along, and naturally curled grape vine healthy and confident. Strong morning winds now resting somewhere.


The rest takes one down and around many sights and scenes. A proud capable hawk surveying the lands. Is that a small bird that follows it? Does hawk not get annoyed by such hangers-on? The sun is sanguine and marries a distant farm crop and the surrounding loam protected by an old-time wooden fence and ridge. A mysterious valley to the side,- see the shade and nuance of hundreds of branches crossing one another over half green mossy boulders and seeming to whisper their own stories, like ghosts, like specters and phantoms right there on the earth yet also hidden, hidden, hidden.


The woodlands and fields, sky clouds and weaving labyrinthine trails are all parts of a complex character then. Organic. Colorful. Textured. Knowing. Both calling and calming. Joyous. Soon the winds that had ceased begin again. A coolness and refreshing air caresses literally all things. It is possible that it touches also our spirit somewhere, somehow, sometime, this time.


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