Click on first photo to enlarge and on arrows to move through gallery.
A friend suggested I add this link for those who wonder about the story of me sitting in the surf in the chair. Have a look at this link: https://judydykstrabrown.com/2014/08/05/de-picted/
http://ceenphotography.com/2016/02/29/cees-fun-foto-challenge-things-that-are-wet/
Leapin’Lizards
Iguanas, lizards, gekkos, turtles, toads and frogs and snakes
are not the things that we should fear in life, for goodness sakes.
These creatures in their own domains present no awful threat.
Just leave them where they are, for none were made to be a pet.
Our tame lives seek to steal the wildness from such natural things,
but wildness is not what curtailing wildness ever brings.
We must learn to leap ourselves––by entering our lives
and breaking free from prisons–our cages, pens or hives––
to buzz the world around us and see what we can find
to release us from our lethargy and the ties that bind.
If you do not know the way, just go and find a child
and follow him or her to places where they keep the wild.
The beach or any sandpile may serve to be your clues
of how to color your own life with more vivid hues.
A thing as simple as wet sand can take a child to
places where you had forgot you could be taken to.
Castle moats or rivers, dams, mountain tops or caves
huge mansions that are sacrifices to that evening’s waves.
Our wild imaginations are where we all should go
to find a little wildness when our lives are slow.
Go find a dog to walk with if you need a pet
then take him out to some wild beach–and both of you, get wet!
Wildness is for doing, not for sitting on a shelf.
So free the creatures pining there and find some for yourself!
(Click on first photo to enlarge and view gallery)
Those baby sea turtles are being set free, not being collected. Happy Leap Year!!!
(If you want to know more about the release of the baby turtles, go HERE.)
This poem was written partially in response to this strange strange news from my home town that was sent to me by two friends yesterday. Read about it here: http://www.chapala.com/webboard/index.php?/topic/60430-tiger-in-la-floresta/
It was also in response to the prompt “Leap,” in honor of this being the extra day in this leap year! https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/leap/
Packing Light
On a desert island, abandoned but alive,
with aids to my survival numbering only five,
I’d need a contraption to desalinate water.
Then a tent to sit under once the day got hotter.
But while I’m in the shade, a solar panel would be nice
to plug in my computer and also a device
to connect it to a satellite so I could Skype my friend
to send fast transportation to bring this to an end!
The Prompt––Five Items: what are the five items you must have on a deserted island? https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/five-items/
Today’s prompt is: “You are on a mission to Mars. Because of the length of of the journey, you will never be able to return to Earth. What about our blue planet will you miss the most?” My answer, as a writer, is that I would most miss an audience, which prompts the below poem.
The Prayer of the First Astronaut Poet
There is no Wifi in space
and so I send my words
out into the universe
hoping that each syllable
will emit a ray
somehow connected
to all my other syllables,
and if quantum entanglement
is right, they will one day
find each other
again.
(This is a rewrite of a poem I wrote to this prompt three years ago.)
(Click on first flower image to see enlarged and gallery view.)
More flowers courtesy of Yellow Bear’s Garden! A few more to come.
To see more flowers, go here: http://ceenphotography.com/2016/02/25/flower-of-the-day-february-26-2016-daffodils/
It’s not that I’m addicted to bobble-heads. Really. The truth is that I’m addicted to the two charming children who sell them. I first met them at Pedro’s fish taco place on the beach, where they politely approached me and showed me their wares. As her brother calmly extracted a few individual animals to show me, the little girl played with her smaller tray of animals, repositioning them and occasionally holding one out for me to examine. They were not insistent, but rather seemed absolutely fascinated by the animals themselves. I asked their names. He was Edgar and she was Flo. He went to school in Melaque in the mornings and she went to Kinder. In the afternoons, they sold the animals and clay candleholders while their mother and older brother sold other wares. I ended up buying seven animals, which Flo counted out in English, her brother continuing the count up to 20–not because I’d bought that many, but because he knew the numbers.
I thought our relationship was probably over as they walked away up the beach, but I had underestimated Edgar’s entrepreneurship. That afternoon, they appeared again at the steps that lead up to the beachside porch of my house. Calmly, Edgar produced a monkey and a cat. That morning, I had noted that there were no monkeys or cats or rabbits, and he had not forgotten. It had just been an idle comment on my part, but now how could I not buy them?
My upstairs neighbors arrived and, equally charmed, bought several animals each. Did they have any more cats, Nancy asked? No, Pat had bought the last one. Too bad they didn’t have yellow cats, I remarked to my friends. We completed our transactions and after our small vendor friends had finished the lemonade I’d provided, they departed.
Over the next two days, they returned with cowboys, elephants, yellow cats, a moose, armadillos and a wonderful pig with a bobble tail instead of a bobble head. I served lemonade or orangeade as Edgar neatly lined up his animals on my steps, creating little neighborhoods and groups. Cowboys herded cattle. Rows of cats faced off with elephants. As we called other friends from nearby to view the animals, Edgar and Flo turned over their empty trays and beat out a little rhythm, chanting words I couldn’t quite make out. They seemed entertained by their life. Did they ever go swimming? I asked them. I’d wondered earlier if they ever resented the children playing in the surf as they trudged up and down the beach selling their wares. Yes, they answered. Sometimes they played in the water in the morning or later in the afternoon.
By now I had 15 little animals surrounding the candlestick on the round coffee table in the sala. They perpetually bobbed their heads as though in agreement with each other, motivated by the air currents set up by the overhead fan. As though in sync with them, I, too, continued to nod agreement as Edgar came forward with new animal after new animal over the next few days. Since then, I have not seen them on the beach. Nor have they come to my house. It may be because I have been busy and not sitting on my porch as they passed, or it may be that Edgar’s earlier counting to 20 was prophetic––for that is the exact number of animals in my bobble-head zoo.
(Click on the first photo to enlarge photos and on arrows to proceed through gallery.)
Color Your World Mango Tango
(Click on first photo to enlarge and see gallery.)
http://jennifernicholewells.com/2016/02/25/color-your-world-mango-tango/
(Click on first photo to enlarge and arrows to view all images.)
Chillin’
If I were the queen of time, in charge of all its flow,
I’d speed it at the dentist, while dessert would progress slow.
Each bite of pie, with me in charge, would take at least a minute.
An ice cream cone would last an hour while I enjoyed what’s in it.
If I controlled the seconds, the hours and days and weeks,
a hummingbird’s flight would slow way down to afford us peeks.
A fine ballet would then commence whenever they flew by––
each move so delicate and slow––detectable by the eye.
House work would vanish quickly as the clicking of a finger,
while footrubs, hugs and kisses would be the things that linger.
The time between waking and sleep would flow as swift as water
If I were grandmother of hours–time passing’s favorite daughter.
If I could slice time thick or thin and serve it out in portions,
I’d speed up each painful death as well as birth’s contortions.
I’d slow down bullets leaving guns and thus destroy their power.
I’d slow how fast the ice cube melts, the lifetime of each flower.
Sunsets would last for hours and time with friends for days,
so we’d enjoy together each evening’s parting rays.
Plane rides with their narrow seats and no room for our knees
would pass as fast as possible–as quickly as you’d please.
Time before a party would go slow to afford time
for the cleaning of the house, the cutting of each lime.
And once each flower is put in place, the buffet table done,
time’s pace would be restored again and revelry begun.
When we need more or less of it, time would be there for us.
Our favorite songs would be strung out. Braggarts would never bore us.
There’d be more time for writing, for eating and the arts.
Headaches would pass in seconds. So would anger, angst and farts!
If I controlled the hours, the world would be run smoother.
Instead of causing us much angst, time would be our soother.
If I could dole out time so it was spread on thin or thickly,
perhaps I could have managed for this poem to end more quickly!
The Prompt: Pace Oddity––If you could slow down an action that usually zooms by, or speed up an event that normally drags on, which would you choose, and why?https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/pace-oddity/
Manatee Gray
(Click on first image to enlarge and view gallery.)
After working with these photographs, I went to bed and was jerked from a dream more quickly than these fish were probably jerked from the water. Although it was 3:30 in the morning, I had to get up and go outside to catch my breath. While there, I wrote a poem which you can see HERE if you wish.
To view the prompt and other manatee gray photos by other photographers, go here: http://jennifernicholewells.com/2016/02/24/color-your-world-manatee/
