Martha’s Vineyard. “Lost In The Rhythm Of The Sea”

_HMG4687United States
Martha’s Vineyard

Through Harold’s Lens:

Please start the sounds first, as you are enjoying the images and words.
You will receive the full sensual experience of this story.

Cozy & bundled
Nestled in arms
In loved-worn sweaters
Over tattered college sweats.

She with Chardonnay
Me with Merlot.

Rhythm of the sea

Buns nestled
In warm mounds of sand.

Heads nestled
In suntanned shoulders.

Toes nestled
In loose grains of gold.

Rhythm of the sea

We had danced
To pounding surf.

We had kissed
To splashing waves.

We had loved
To glows of orange and red.

Rhythm of the sea

Warm love between us
Deep love growing
Memories of a tender island summer
Moments of a chilly early fall.

Rhythm of the sea

All is quiet now
Only sounds of surf
Only stars in skies
Only moon beams crossing waves.

Rhythm of the sea

She off to Wellesley
Me off to Stanford
2500 miles of dirt
Hearts sagging
Tears rolling.

Rhythm of the sea

Grapes gone
Sunset black

Rhythm of the sea

From Harold’s Photographic Series on Martha’s Vineyard: “Intimacy of Island Life”

“Fly Fishing In The Mountains”


United States
Through Harold’s Lens:

Loaded fly rod in hand

Teasing trout
Dangling bait
Chasing tail
Morning, noon and night.

Moist creeks
Wandering streams
Soft shorelines
Full backing of

Banks of breeding bunnies
Tools in hand
For libido of man.

Lay down
Set the hook
Strip the line
Unload the rod.

Guiding N.O.W.
Steinem, Friedan, Fonda
No catch
Dry fly.

Playboy Mansion dam
Steelhead, Hog Sucker, Southern Playfish
Bridle Shiner, Cutthroat, Killifish
Sleeper, Snook, Chiselmouth
Even Logperch and Paddlefish.

Ego on top of many mountains?
Many egos wearing mountains?

A little boy with grown up toys?
Little toys with a grown up boy?

Riding rockets to the moon.

Aging fisherman
From warm waters
April nine
Nineteen twenty six.

Eighty-eight year journey
Eternal climb up mountains of lust
Traversing curving trails
Back to warm home.

Happy Birthday Hugh!

“My Surprise”


Through Harold’s Lens:

Last night
Before our date.

You gave me a red rose
You kissed me tenderly.

You kneeled
You gently lifted my left hand

You looked into my eyes
You said “will you marry me?”

You slipped a diamond on my finger

Your eyes glistened
Tears rolled down my cheeks
I leaned and kissed you gently.

I whispered “yes!”

Brunch in a Belgium Cafe
You savoring a delicious beer
I savoring you.

I dreamed of our life together

Our children
To be
Our home
To be

Our life values
Our education values
Our religious values
How we love to be with each other.

Our tenderness
Our touch.

Our care
Our concern.

Our love.

“In sickness and in health
Until death do us part”

Netherlands.”Hardware For Hookers”


Through Harold Lens:

Red Light District
We strolled.
My trusty sidekick
Mr. SLR Nikon & I.

@$#&%* camera out of here!!!
Came cat calls

Highway of hookers
Brothels & sex shops
Same word used for invitation and exit
Sir Winston’s V means something else here.

@$#&%* camera!
@$#&%* camera!
@$#&%* camera!

Mr. SLR Nikon hid behind my hip.

Silicone valleys slipped behind symbolic poles
Flabby, white, pasty thighs peeled off old paint cracked windows
Big, bosoms bounced down basement steps
Red silk minis slipped into “quick service” entrances.

@$#&%* camera!
@$#&%* camera!
@$#&%* camera!

Stilettos clicked quicker on concrete
Black silks wrapped over hipbones
Tongues licked glossy red lips inviting desire
Erotic flirt.

@$#&%* camera!
@$#&%* camera!
@$#&%* camera!

“Time to Hook em”
said Mr. SLR
“Peep show’s over
Working girls’ got to work.”


“Her Prince”


Through Harold’s Lens:

Please start the music first, as you are enjoying the images and words.

You will receive the full sensual experience of this story.

Below the frigid, icy Arctic
Six hundred miles.

Warm golden summer evening unfolding

Prancing hooves
Weaving through one thousand acres
Manicured gardens
Flowers in full bloom
Colorful, gay.

Stallions pulling proudly
Glimmering black Royal Coach
Top hat driver snapping leather reins.

Grand entrance

Royal Palace
One thousand feet long
Russian Baroque

Catherine Palace
Empress Catherine II
Catherine the Great.

Handsome Prince
Pink-laced Princess.

Hooves halt
Kissing her soft, snow-white hand
Escorting Swan off Royal Coach.

Moving musical score
Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake Ballet.

Prince lifts Princess
Into deep blue sky

Classical Russian Ballet evolving
Body patterns revealing deep romance.

Pure of heart
Love pledged
White Knight.


Through Harold’s Lens:

Please start the music first as you are enjoying the image and words. You will receive the full sensual experience of this story.

Opera La Boheme. Act 4. Finale.

Oh Mimi will you never return
Oh, beautiful days, tiny hands
the fragrance of your tresses…
…your snow white neck!

Mimi-(With great passion)

Rodolfo-(Carefully, helping Mimi onto a bed)
Hush now, rest.

Mimi-(Holding Rodolfo in her arms)
Oh, my Rodolfo!
May I stay here with you?

Ah! my dearest Mimi,
always, always!

(Gently Rodolfo persuades Mimi to lie down on the bed and covers her with a blanket Then with great care slips a pillow under Mimi’s head)

Heavenly lips,
still you speak to me!

It’s just a little cough!
I’m used to it.

Rest now.

You won’t leave me?

No! No!

(Mimi open her eyes, stretches her hand out towards Rodolfo, then kisses him lovingly. Mimi puts her arms around Rodolfo’s neck)
Your are my entire life, you are my love.

Ah, Mimi,
my beautiful Mimi!

(She lets herself fall into his arms)
Do you still find me beautiful?

As lovely as the dawn.

(Mimi has a sudden spasm of coughing, she falls back with exhaustion)

(Alarmed, Rodolfo gently supports Mimi)
Oh God! Mimi!
(Rodolfo carefully lays Mimi down on the pillow)

I’m here… my love… always with you!
My hands… in the warm… and… to sleep

(Rodolfo dashes to Mimi’s bedside, scoops her up in his arms crying out in extreme desperation)
Mimì!… Mimì!..


Puccini’s Italian opera La Boheme is one of the most frequently performed operas in the world.

As I quietly strolled La Recoleta Cemetery in Buenos Aires, I was reminded of the sad, passionate finale of the two lovers Rodolfo and Mimi. And, my tear-filled evening at the New York City Opera watching my Tenor Nephew Barton Green play the lead role of Rodolfo.

“One Shade Of Grey”

Through Harold’s Lens:

You don’t know her.

I do!


Sophie casually waited to dance
Tango music moving her spirit
Swaying to the sounds of the rhythm.

Sophie loves to dance
By herself
With a man
With a woman.
Waiting to be asked.

But not for the reason the other women were waiting.

Other women wanted a fantasy.

They wanted young
Chiseled face
Piercing eyes

Shirt buttons open to six pack abs
Matted intertwined black curls to the navel
Her braless breast pressed against his chest
His pants skin tight
Firm thigh surging between her hot, quivering legs

Ecstasy slowly slithering its way up against her warm, twitching belly.

Sophie just wanted to feel her inner passion.

The freedom of dancing.

The flowing.

Sophie could dance to the news.

You feel inner passion.

The keyboard of your desk
Your fingers rhythmically listening
A musical favorite.

The freedom of letting go
The spirt rising
The release.

Doing what you love
Doing what you really feel.

Deep down inside.

Your inner core talking.

Your inner passion.

“Dear John”

ARGENTINA Through Harold’s Lens:

Deep in thought, pen poised, Camila begins to write.

“Santiago, you have been on my mind for days. I have tossed and turned with conflicted thoughts. A relationship is built on trust. You told me you ‘were not married’. Later, you are ‘filing for divorce’. You told me your age. An over-the-shoulder look of your Driver’s License showed me you are much older. Nights we had a date. You never showed. ‘Wrong number’ calls on your cell phone. I try to discuss this with you. You just stare at the tv. Even the commercials. Yes, you got sex. I hoped that wasn’t all you wanted. Lies are not the way to start a real relationship. Trust is gold. My trust of you is in complete breakdown. Whatever you say now, I will always have doubts. Goodbye Santiago.”

Observation from the next patio table.

“Sexy Wrap”

ARGENTINA Through Harold’s Lens:

Blackness enveloped our private cabin deep in the Argentina woods.

Soft pine branches brushed the roof. Candles flickered their specs of light off a crushed leather sofa. Pine logs crackled in the fireplace.

The soft, soothing sounds of Love Me Tender. The King!

I sat on the warm animal skin rug in front of the glow. A bottle of red. Uncorked. Two crystal wine glasses. Where were you?

Slowly, from the darkened doorway, your long tanned legs first appeared. Barefoot. Slinking, you walked towards me. Arms surrounding a tan, deeply furred wrap across your bare upper body. Yellow necklace tucked into cleavage.

Slowly you sat down besides me.

Fade to black.

“Snappy You”

ARGENTINA Through Harold’s Lens:

I know you well, beautiful.

You dream of strolling through the sumptuous markets of fabrics and fashion.

Down the exotic avenues of boutiques filled with fibers to snuggle, wear and wrap around your body.

Floating in a world of exotic fibers of the most varied origin.

Delicious Latin men turn their heads.

The sexy Tango on the corner summons your presence.

Buenos Aires beckons you.

Selected as the main photograph by poet Felicity Ann Mcinnes in her sensuous poetry series “The Lusts of Man”.

“What’s Up?”

ARGENTINA Through Harold’s Lens:


Streets are closed to auto traffic in the Buenos Aires neighborhood of San Telmo.

It’s a bizarre time!

Artisans, musicians, street performers and antique vendors from near and far are here to share their treasures and their talents with the public.

People of all nationalities are wandering, walking, strolling, gawking. It’s a unique and alluring experience.

Over here, there’s something weird happening.

Over there, what is that woman doing?

Where’s the reggae music coming from?

Sundays in San Telmo just go with the flow.

“Marriage Rule #14”

ARGENTINA Through Harold’s Lens:

“Where have you been my loving husband to be?

I’ve been waiting here in the hot sun for over two hours”, Sofia angrily said.

“This is the 7th time you have done this to me!”.

Nicolás paused.

Slurred out “well, ah, ah ah I saw Javier as I was walking over here. The Boca Juniors were playing ball on the tv at the Bottle Bar. Javier is my Best Man so I thought we could spend some time together watching the Juniors”.

Sofia responded, “I had my cell, you could have called me.”

Sheepishly, he mumbled “I did not think of that”.

My Female Bloggers, perhaps you would like to finish the story in Comments:

“Embrace Her”

ARGENTINA Through Harold’s Lens:

Come on men.

Tango with her.

One step back
One step to the right
A step to the side
Several steps forward.

Move smoothly
In the soft embrace
Curvy swooning woman.

“Favorite Photograph” Selection For Through Harold’s Lens Image “Fantasy Of Passion”

ARGENTINA Through Harold’s Lens:

High noon
Buenos Aires

The warm, golden sun washes the city square.

You stand alone in your sultry, swishy dress with bared midriff watching the intertwined couples dance lustfully to the romantic and sexy music.

A tall, handsome man appears in front of you.

He bows gracefully. In a language you don’t comprehend, he asks you to dance.

Your reflex is hesitant, until you peer into his deep inviting eyes and roll over his tanned face.

Your finger tips touch with electricity as he gracefully escorts you among the other dancers.

Your afternoon is consumed in the arms of your stranger to the rhythm of the earthy music, the swish of your skirt, the twists and intertwining of your legs to the sensuous Tango.

This happens everyday, only in Buenos Aires!

Selected as the “Favorite Photograph” and reposted on

“The Story?”

ARGENTINA Through Harold’s Lens:

So What Is Your Story Here?

A husband surprised by the appearance of his wife?

The husband covering his inebriated woman’s face?

Maybe a sister who thinks her brother is goofy?

The clue
His right hand.

The fun continues…only in Buenos Aires!

“Awaits Her Warrior”

TANZANIA Through Harold’s Lens:

The Serengeti’s late afternoon sun cast long black shadows through the sharp thorn fence surrounding her village.

Menacing black spikes grew in front of her on the vast bare earth.

The Maasai woman stood absolutely iron statue still for hours outside the front door of her one room circular home built with mud, grass, wood and cow dung. Her eyes were focused to the East.

She was waiting for her warrior husband to return from the veld.