All posts filed under: Poetry

STORM, a conceptual editorial by Puck Verheul

Are you allowed to get lost? Create a path. A path that branches off into darkness and brightness. Covering up becomes revealing. Play a game, express the strangeness, and see the little beauties that distinguish both contrasts. Even when the wind is whispering, a personal conversation does not require words. Photography by Puck Verheul, Location Amsterdam & London, Model Jesse Hajo de Jongh. Black leather coat by Calvin Klein, raw edge skirt by Rick Owens, brown leather coat by Guy Laroche, white turtleneck Adidas vintage, black bottom by HM, vintage  scarf

THE LOVERS AND A POEM BY LEONARD COHEN

“You have the lovers, they are nameless, their histories only for each other, and you have the room, the bed, and the windows. Pretend it is a ritual. Unfurl the bed, bury the lovers, blacken the windows, let them live in that house for a generation or two. No one dares disturb them…” -Poem by Leonard Cohen. Photographs by Jason Henley, stylist Janai Anselmi & Jo Ayling @ Janai Anselmi Rebecca wears Emma Mulholland Splash! Sweater, Emma Mulholland Mr Squiggle Jeans. Sab wears Zoe Karssen ‘Poisoned Lovers’ sweater, Models own leather jacket Rebecca wears Cameo shirt, MLM mesh bra ‘Moondance’ dye T from Surf Dive ‘n’ Ski Tessa wears bronze metal yarn knit Willow, black leather bra Caslazur.   “Their eyes are closed, as tightly as if heavy coins of flesh lay on them. Their lips are bruised with new and old bruises. Her hair and his beard are hopelessly tangled. When he puts his mouth against her shoulder she is uncertain whether her shoulder has given or received the kiss. All her flesh is …

Clenched Soul a photo editorial and a Poem by Pablo Neruda

“We have lost even this twilight. No one saw us this evening hand in hand, while the blue night dropped on the world… Sometimes a piece of sun burned like a coin in my hand. I remembered you with my soul clenched in that sadness of mine that you know…” by Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. Photography by San Francisco-based photographer Hana Haley We have lost even this twilight. No one saw us this evening hand in hand while the blue night dropped on the world. I have seen from my window the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops. Sometimes a piece of sun burned like a coin in my hand. I remembered you with my soul clenched in that sadness of mine that you know. Where were you then? Who else was there? Saying what? Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away? The book fell that always closed at twilight and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at …