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Author Topic: Ode To iStock  (Read 7009 times)

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« on: June 25, 2014, 08:30 »
+4
iStock now resembles the deer that was shot by the master hunter and fatally wounded. It has run swiftly and further into the winding forest after being startled by the sound of the huntsmens gun and being deeply pierced in the neck by the rifles bullet. It now can no longer run anymore after having sprinted long and aimlessly on borrowed time whilst carrying the lethal lead in its flesh. Exhausted by its deep wound, and weakened by its blood loss, it's sprint has now slowed to a subdued trot, deliriously delving it deeper into the unknown forest. The buck is losing its footing bit by bit each step it struggles to take, slipping on damp, moss covered rocks, stumbling ahead, now barely able to even maintain any sure footing. Alas, it is finally faltering, grappling to continue to lumber forward at all. Lay down and rest my poor, tired beast. The flesh quivering on your bones, you are only moments away from resting your weary head on the soft earth that awaits to pass you lucidly into the afterlife. iStock my dear, RIP.
« Last Edit: June 26, 2014, 07:13 by iStop »


ultimagina

« Reply #1 on: June 25, 2014, 10:18 »
0
Beautiful! 

Sent from my SM-G900T using Tapatalk


« Reply #2 on: June 25, 2014, 11:12 »
+1
Now do it in five footed iambs.

One of the stanzas should contain:


...Why look'st thou so?'With my cross-bow
I shot the ALBATROSS...

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173253
« Last Edit: June 25, 2014, 11:15 by JPSDK »

« Reply #3 on: June 25, 2014, 19:19 »
+10
In the case of iStock, I think the deer/albatross shot itself. :P

Me


« Reply #4 on: June 26, 2014, 00:09 »
+2
Never pictured IS as Bambi's mom

Beppe Grillo

« Reply #5 on: June 26, 2014, 02:16 »
+2
Ode?
Looks more like epitaph

« Reply #6 on: June 26, 2014, 10:46 »
+4
That is  beautiful

The only problem is that this buck is bleeding us also before it goes down

Sent from my GT-I9300 using Tapatalk


ultimagina

« Reply #7 on: June 26, 2014, 14:41 »
+1
This reminds me of a beautiful Romanian poem: "The death of the Deer"
Here is the approximate English translation:


The sun, melted down on the earth, left behind
An empty, exhausted, blistering sky.
The buckets come up from the fountains all dry
More and more, over the woods fires, fires
Dance above savage demoniac pyres.

I follow my father through the bushes uphill,
The fir-trees scrape me, withered up and evil,
Together, we start the deer hunting quest,
The hunting of hunger in the Carpathian forest.

Thirst ruins me. The thin string of water
Drip, drop, from the spout is sizzling on stone
My temple is throbbing. I walk on another
Enormous and heavy, strange planet alone.

We wait in a place where,
from strings of calm waves,
The streams still resound.
When the sun will be set,
When the moon will rise, round
One by one, in a line, up here,
They will come to drink, the deer.

I say: "Father, I'm thirsty!" He hushes me at once
Bemusing water, how clearly you glow!
I'm tied by thirst to the soul meant to die

At an hour forbidden by custom and by law
The valley rustles with a withered hiss
Crosswise the sky, a dire twilight lit the clouds
and far, above the cliff, blood drips.
My chest is red, as if wiped my hands of blood on it.
With bluish flames through ferns, as in dream
Astounded stars begin to gleam

Sacrifice of my woods, oh, beautiful prey,
How I wish you did not come, how I pray!
She bounces lightly then she stops
And looks with caution through the grass
Her slender nostrils stirred the water
In circles shimmering like brass

A hazy fear glared deep inside her eyes
I knew that she would suffer; I knew that she would die,
As she stood there, still, she was the sheer
Myth of the maid embodied in a deer.

White cherry flowers high above her
The moon was sifting on her fur
Oh, how I wish, oh, how I pray,
My father's gun to miss its prey

The valleys roared

Knelt, in the stream
She raised her head as in a dream,
She watched the sky, the moon, the stars
Then fell
and water gleamed with scars

A blue bird rushed, in a tree, unknown
The deer's life has softly flown
Crying like birds when they depart
And their fall migration start.

I went to close her eyes, below
So sadly laid her antlers shadow
I started livid when, suddenly, offbeat,
My father screeched with joy:
"Meat, we have meat!"

I say "Father, I'm thirsty!"
He nods that I may drink
Bemusing water, how sullenly you glow!
I feel tied by thirst to the soul that died
At an hour forbidden by custom and by law...

But our laws are useless and dead
When our life hangs up on a thread
And custom, law and pity are quickly gone
When sis' is sick and hungry at home

The smoke comes out of my father's gun
The leafage in flocks starts to run!
My father kindles a terrible fire
The wood seems now darker and higher!

I pick up from the grass, as in a dream,
A tiny bell with silver gleam,
My father, from the spit rends with his nails
The deer's heart and her entrails

You, heart? I'm hungry!
I want to live, I wish, although...
Forgive mee deer, forgive me virgin-doe!
I'm tired. How tall is now the fire!
The woods, how deep!

I cry. What does my father think?

I eat and cry!

I eat!
« Last Edit: June 26, 2014, 15:58 by ultimagaina »

« Reply #8 on: June 26, 2014, 16:31 »
+1
Reading this had me close to tears.


This reminds me of a beautiful Romanian poem: "The death of the Deer"
Here is the approximate English translation:


The sun, melted down on the earth, left behind
An empty, exhausted, blistering sky.
The buckets come up from the fountains all dry
More and more, over the woods fires, fires
Dance above savage demoniac pyres.

I follow my father through the bushes uphill,
The fir-trees scrape me, withered up and evil,
Together, we start the deer hunting quest,
The hunting of hunger in the Carpathian forest.

Thirst ruins me. The thin string of water
Drip, drop, from the spout is sizzling on stone
My temple is throbbing. I walk on another
Enormous and heavy, strange planet alone.

We wait in a place where,
from strings of calm waves,
The streams still resound.
When the sun will be set,
When the moon will rise, round
One by one, in a line, up here,
They will come to drink, the deer.

I say: "Father, I'm thirsty!" He hushes me at once
Bemusing water, how clearly you glow!
I'm tied by thirst to the soul meant to die

At an hour forbidden by custom and by law
The valley rustles with a withered hiss
Crosswise the sky, a dire twilight lit the clouds
and far, above the cliff, blood drips.
My chest is red, as if wiped my hands of blood on it.
With bluish flames through ferns, as in dream
Astounded stars begin to gleam

Sacrifice of my woods, oh, beautiful prey,
How I wish you did not come, how I pray!
She bounces lightly then she stops
And looks with caution through the grass
Her slender nostrils stirred the water
In circles shimmering like brass

A hazy fear glared deep inside her eyes
I knew that she would suffer; I knew that she would die,
As she stood there, still, she was the sheer
Myth of the maid embodied in a deer.

White cherry flowers high above her
The moon was sifting on her fur
Oh, how I wish, oh, how I pray,
My father's gun to miss its prey

The valleys roared

Knelt, in the stream
She raised her head as in a dream,
She watched the sky, the moon, the stars
Then fell
and water gleamed with scars

A blue bird rushed, in a tree, unknown
The deer's life has softly flown
Crying like birds when they depart
And their fall migration start.

I went to close her eyes, below
So sadly laid her antlers shadow
I started livid when, suddenly, offbeat,
My father screeched with joy:
"Meat, we have meat!"

I say "Father, I'm thirsty!"
He nods that I may drink
Bemusing water, how sullenly you glow!
I feel tied by thirst to the soul that died
At an hour forbidden by custom and by law...

But our laws are useless and dead
When our life hangs up on a thread
And custom, law and pity are quickly gone
When sis' is sick and hungry at home

The smoke comes out of my father's gun
The leafage in flocks starts to run!
My father kindles a terrible fire
The wood seems now darker and higher!

I pick up from the grass, as in a dream,
A tiny bell with silver gleam,
My father, from the spit rends with his nails
The deer's heart and her entrails

You, heart? I'm hungry!
I want to live, I wish, although...
Forgive mee deer, forgive me virgin-doe!
I'm tired. How tall is now the fire!
The woods, how deep!

I cry. What does my father think?

I eat and cry!

I eat!


« Reply #9 on: June 27, 2014, 00:23 »
+3
iStock is more like a group of deer that stumbled on a giant open valley with the most beautiful green grass, rich and fertile, unlike any they had seen before. The deer frolicked and played in the field eating, romping and sleeping to their hearts content. The leader deer spent their time partying running silly competitions. Unknown to the istock deer, at the other end of the giant valley, other groups of deer had also found the rich untouched valley. They started eating furiously day after day moving closer towards the istock deer. The istock deer were playing party games when one day in 2012 the shutter stock deers roamed right pass them eating much of the pasture where they were playing. The istock deer panicked. They slaughtered their leadership and made a pact with a hedge tailed eagles who brought in extra dry grass from another field many miles away to keep them alive. A few months after the initial leadership kill there were more leadership kills by the eagles and the area was thrown open to invite as many deer in as possible to try and out eat the shutter stock deer but there wasn't as much grass left. The istock deer were now looking very skinny and gaunt. TBC.

ultimagina

« Reply #10 on: June 27, 2014, 22:32 »
0
Reading this had me close to tears.

Interresting! The translation is not always doing justice to the original, but if it triggered such emotions,  it means it is not too bad, after all! Glad you liked it!

« Reply #11 on: June 27, 2014, 23:57 »
0
I see poetic justice unfolding.

« Reply #12 on: June 28, 2014, 05:36 »
0
Chapter 2.

The shutter stock herd belonged to a pack of wolves who lived in a magic castle on a distant mountain. In the spring the wolves had liked to go down to the forest and watch the silly young deer frolicking in the meadows. The deer loved the kindly wolves and saw only goodness in their faces and heaven in their hearts.

But now the wolves knew that winter would soon been coming. As it did every year. A cold wind was blowing from the east. Soon the grass would stop growing and the stream would freeze over. The deer were plump and there were many young. The wolves licked their lips and smiled.
« Last Edit: June 28, 2014, 06:34 by bunhill »

« Reply #13 on: July 07, 2014, 19:13 »
0
Chapter 3

The government decided to frack and coal mine the giant valley because they were stone broke paying for all the wars, welfare programs and debt on the fiat money creation. The water supply was contaminated and the soil never recovered its fertility. The deer silently moved away to other areas. Then a newbie deer turned up on the edge of the forest asking, "can you make a living from doing this ?"

« Reply #14 on: July 08, 2014, 07:52 »
0
Chapter 4

Far to the north there were partisans - bearded artisans and tattooed faeries who had escaped from the forest in brightly colored VWs and on old bicycles.  They lived a simple rustic life in a secret commune which was not on any map and was difficult to find - a tranquil  idle which smelled of fresh coffee and sourdough bread.

ShadySue

  • There is a crack in everything
« Reply #15 on: July 08, 2014, 07:54 »
0
... a tranquil idle .
That would be me.

« Reply #16 on: July 08, 2014, 08:06 »
0
I've never been good at spelling :)

« Reply #17 on: July 08, 2014, 10:56 »
+1
Chapter 4

Far to the north there were partisans - bearded artisans and tattooed faeries who had escaped from the forest in brightly colored VWs and on old bicycles.  They lived a simple rustic life in a secret commune which was not on any map and was difficult to find - a tranquil  idle which smelled of fresh coffee and sourdough bread.

Many years ago I went looking for a friend of mine who was supposed to be at a similar place. I was a bearded artisan myself, with an old Transit van, so I didn't look that out of place.

Strangely though I don't remember it smelling of fresh coffee and sourdough bread there. :)

« Reply #18 on: July 08, 2014, 13:35 »
-1
I for one hope Istocksy deers come back and kick shutterstocksy deers right in the nuts.

Actually they are already doing that in my monthly results.

« Reply #19 on: July 08, 2014, 13:54 »
0
Strangely though I don't remember it smelling of fresh coffee and sourdough bread there. :)

Homegrown and socks right ?

« Reply #20 on: July 09, 2014, 04:47 »
0
Strangely though I don't remember it smelling of fresh coffee and sourdough bread there. :)

Homegrown and socks right ?
Nearly right. Homegrown and s**t. :) 

« Reply #21 on: July 09, 2014, 09:06 »
0
istock still works good to me  :) i'm having 250/300 dollars a month with a 1000 pics

ShadySue

  • There is a crack in everything
« Reply #22 on: July 09, 2014, 10:20 »
+3
istock still works good to me  :) i'm having 250/300 dollars a month with a 1000 pics
Get back to us in six years. Not only was I earning more than $300/month in 2008 when I had -/=1000 files (up to $860 in Nov 2008, which is still my BME), when files were much cheaper, I'm now well below what I was earning then each month but one this year with 3500+ files.
It's almost impossible for an indivdual supplier to keep increasing their port at the rate the entire collection is growing, and we have no control over the best match, or where our files end up, or them suddenly deciding to change how our %age is calculated, or them suddenly deciding to undercut exclusive files by indie files on their own site, or offering subs. There are too many imponderables to make any projections, even short term.

« Reply #23 on: July 13, 2014, 23:05 »
+1
Where I live, I see more moose than deer.

Newfoundland started in 1904 with four imported moose. In hundred years those four moose multiplied to 150,000.
So far, they are still thriving, but more and more are getting hit by large trucks. Actually by many types of vehicles in different shapes and sizes.  There is now even an app for moose sightings.

Last week, in one of the Toronto city parks, they caught a young cayman crocodile, but instead of teaming him up with a suitable mate, they took the poor cayman to some zoo. That killed any chance of establishing large reptile population in this province.
 

« Reply #24 on: July 17, 2014, 21:05 »
0
istock still works good to me  :) i'm having 250/300 dollars a month with a 1000 pics
Get back to us in six years. Not only was I earning more than $300/month in 2008 when I had -/=1000 files (up to $860 in Nov 2008, which is still my BME), when files were much cheaper, I'm now well below what I was earning then each month but one this year with 3500+ files.
It's almost impossible for an indivdual supplier to keep increasing their port at the rate the entire collection is growing, and we have no control over the best match, or where our files end up, or them suddenly deciding to change how our %age is calculated, or them suddenly deciding to undercut exclusive files by indie files on their own site, or offering subs. There are too many imponderables to make any projections, even short term.

300/month isn't that great. Kind of feeds into my suspicion that IS is spreading the views out to encourage general production rather than specialists.
« Last Edit: July 18, 2014, 06:06 by goober »


 

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