Outer Space
One day we’ll have to leave this place
to venture into outer space;
but probably I’ll be long gone
when we all venture over yon.
If outer space is simply gray,
I’m glad I’ll miss that awful day.
(Click on first photo to enlarge and on arrows to pass to each new photo.)
(
http://jennifernicholewells.com/2016/03/07/color-your-world-outer-space/
In the tangle of this jungle garden, these morning glories shoved themselves to the foreground.
The Smell of Curry
Would that sentiment were only
positive and never lonely––
but all emotions of the world
in sentiment are tightly curled.
Every memory we cherish
is doubly edged with “live” and “perish.”
In every city, country, land––
bad and good go hand in hand.
The blend of cardamom and lentil
always makes me sentimental.
Odors of turmeric and its ilk,
garam masala and coco milk.
Curry spices being roasted,
degree of peppers being boasted,
chickpeas, carrots, potatoes, rice––
stirring in each thing that’s nice.
What do I think of when I smell
and taste that it is going well?
Bombay and wedding saris thin
sliding down my youthful skin.
Visions of a midnight ride
to cages with young girls inside
sold by their parents and then resold
nightly for a bit of gold.
Traffic, sitar music, fingers
scooping curry––all this lingers.
The beauty of that winsome song
that showed me where the world’s gone wrong.
His action, swift, unthinking, curt
of small coins cast into the dirt
to deflect those who beg and bleat,
surrounding us in every street.
Palaces and then the clash
of children in a world of trash,
the refuse of this giant city
the world they lived in—what a pity.
Back when traveling was new,
experiences were so few
that India changed my life forever.
So, will I forget it? Never.
Harmony
(Cliick on first photo to enlarge, then arrows to proceed through photos.)
UQB: Unidentified Quiet Blossom
I think this is some sort of nut tree and the closest I could find to the leaf shape was a cashew tree. I found one picture that showed it with a star-shaped flower, but in other pictures, the petals were more rounded. I think my friend told me this was an almond tree, but it definitely isn’t an almond. Once again, if you recognize it, please educate me.
Click on first picture and then on arrows to enlarge and view gallery.
This non-assuming little flower deserved some extra attention. As with most things in nature, close up, it makes more of a statement.
For more flower pix, go HERE.
Trapped
Mosquito netting above my head
and tucked securely around my bed.
What person forced to resort to it
hasn’t made a sport of it
at bedtime, just as they recline,
shut off the lights, and hear the whine
of a mosquito, far then near
directly buzzing in their ear!
Mosquito netting so fine and thin,
both keeps them out and keeps them in.
I knew if I tried hard enough that I could find my picture of the mosquito–netted bed in my treehouse! Finally found it in my Facebook photos.
Orange
(Click on first photo to enlarge. Click on arrow to move through gallery.)
http://jennifernicholewells.com/2016/03/05/color-your-world-orange/
Sunset Ballet
Their silhouetted slim perfection
backed by sunset’s splashed reflection,
these teens seemed to have some connection
that loosed them from a straight direction
as they chose a swift aborting
of their stroll for wild cavorting.
In frolics on the beach, each leap
was energy they couldn’t keep
but had to spend, paying their tolls
in somersaults and flips and rolls;
while I watched, spellbound, from my step,
entranced by all their joy and pep—
glad that I had viewed by chance
this sunset’s stunning triple dance
of light on water and on sea
as well as bends of arm and knee
that turned this day all upside down
for each cavorting, spinning clown—
those of us more seasoned sat,
collected for a sunset chat,
well-worn by humor, sun and life,
taking ease from lives of strife.
And though we’re not as young and trim,
our hearts danced along with them.
(Click on first photo to enlarge, then click quickly on each successive arrow to transpose these stills into action. I’ve captioned the last photo THE END and you can click on the X to the top left at this time or at any other time to return to this screen. It may take some time to download initially, depending on your computer; on mine it went quickly. Once downloaded, it goes very quickly depending on how fast you press the right arrow each time. It’s worth the bother. So fun to view!!! Please let me know how this works for you.)
After being totally ubiquitous in the seventies, it seems as though olive has totally disappeared in this world… at least in mine. I had to resort to a photo shoot on the beach…Ha.
(Click on first photo to enlarge, then click on arrow.)
http://jennifernicholewells.com/2016/03/04/color-your-world-olive-green/
Each morning in Mexico, wherever you are, you are greeted by the sounds of the vendors of the day driving by in the street. Gas trucks, knife sharpeners, fruit and vegetable vendors––all have their own distinctive music to call us out of our houses to buy their wares. Since my bedroom window opens on the street, I’ve had a unique opportunity to have their lilting ditties engraved upon my memory so I find myself humming them to myself throughout the day––whether diving into a wave, chewing an enchilada or listening to a friend read a poem in writers’ group. Nowhere am I safe from repetitive memory and the need to duplicate their music unless I’m listening to a different tune blasted from the woofers of a passing muffer-less car or by a local band at Palapa Joe’s. Perhaps this is why we all flock there–our final escape from the gassy melodies of our mornings.
Below is my commemorative poem to all this hot gas. Today, as if in complicity with my need to get photos, they passed a total of five times! I didn’t explain why I was standing in my nightgown in the middle of the street to snap their pictures. Let them be a bit disturbed by me for a change!!!
Morning Serenade
Each time I hear the gas truck pass,
“Zeta, Zeta, Zeta Gas”
gets stuck anew right in my ear
where it will remain, I fear––
the soundtrack to my whole long day.
It simply will not pass away
until their competition passes–
with the more simple song of gasses––
“Guhassssssssssssssss” they croon, much more direct.
I almost want to genuflect
at this daily processional
and enter their confessional
to admit I’ve gone electric,
so no more I’ll hear the click
when I choose to be a turner,
flipping on my stovetop burner.
Now the coil will heat with ease
unaffected by each breeze.
No more am I the slave of gas–
with need to purchase it en masse.
Yet still each morn as they pass by,
I feel the need to run and hie
their passing with a friendly wave
and when they do not pass, I crave
the lilting message of their passing.
My day just won’t start without “guhasssssssssssssing”!
(Click on first photo to enlarge and see captions. Click arrows to move through gallery and press the X at the upper left to come back to this page.)
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 