MY WALL

Poems & Photographs

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  • THE OLD PLACE

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    I am afraid the road no longer remembers
    the young feet that used to walk its rocky dusty surface
    stretching from here to there
    and kept the village a well-kept secret from outsiders

    My aged  eyes behold a road gleaming black
    under the tropical heat snaking away from the the old artery
     cutting  through neighbors’ yards and  childhood haunts

    Traffic moves through 
    these  once nonexistent roads 
    that have now opened this humble village 
    into the bustling world 

    Where are the chico and the mango trees
    that used to feed a ravenous youth?

    My eyes look for the old footpaths 
    that guided my youthful steps 
    but they have grown bigger, got new names
    and now would rather be called streets

    the open spaces that welcomed  children to play
    hide behind cement walls.  Houses, huge and grand,
    rise behind wrought iron gates. 

    I look for the familiar places and familiar faces
    and find them only in memories

    The old village has moved on with time
    and wears progress, ah! change, like a crown
    and makes a stranger of one of her own

    yet, 

    Blessed be God,
    the bougainvillaes let me know 
    I am still at home.
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    This is a response to Dora’s prompt for DVERSE POETS’ PUB’s Poetics, Embodying a Landscape.

    I am not sure it captured the spirit of the prompt, but I am glad to write for it about my recent visit to home anyway.

    Linking with DVERSE Open Link Night #403.

  • SPRING

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    A heavy weight is lifted off me
    I can breathe again
    the freshness of air
    the warmth of sunshine

    I hear the songbirds
    and robins singing to Dawn

    From the depths of me swells 
    answering joy

    exploding
    into crocuses, daffodils
    and cherry blossoms.

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    A response to DVERSE POETS’ PUB’s Quadrille #243: Bird is the Word prompt.

    Thank you for dropping by. Have a great day.

  • FRIENDS

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    Some friends would never grow old, and forever would have the pink of youth on their cheeks. They’d ever have dreams twinkling in their eyes and the hunger for what comes next. But the hunger would never be satisfied, neither would they ever see whatever would be. Yet, their laughter always ring, their voices always bring comfort, and their faces always bring joy here in my life blessed with their memories.

    The scent of a rose
    The grace of a summer day
    Drifting towards night

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    This is a response to Frank Tassone’s Haibun Monday prompt for DVERSE POETS’ PUB, A “Life on Mars” Tribute.

  • WHERE IS TRUTH (Shadowed – Part 2)

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    Shadows
    Dancing in the margins of light

    Shaping, embellishing
    What's presented to sight

    Looking at  truth 
    Yet, still seeing an illusion -
    ah! fragmented truth 

    Confounded  souls
    being pushed and pulled
    between the brilliance of  lies 
    the darkness of truth 

    Ever searching
    ever aching 

    to rip out the veil
    revealing what is

     the fullness of truth 
     only  a  leap of faith away.
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    The poem is a response to Melissa’s Tuesday Poetics prompt for DVERSE POETS’ PUB, Turn of Phrase, where she asked participants to write in sentence fragments.  The idea for the poem came from this weeks Lens-Artists Photo Challenge prompt which was all about shadows in pictures.  Looking through my photo archives made me think about life and shadows, and how shadows make things interesting in one way or the other, and how they affect our perceptions.

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    In the woods, the sun was like a spotlight shining on the lichen.
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    I was trying to capture the setting and almost gone sun and the halo that it cast on everything.
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    The sun was almost overhead and I shoot towards the shaded area to frame the flowers and the butterfly.

    The pictures were taken at random times and places: from the woods, from a Fair, from our backyard.  I do not know or remember if I consciously took the pictures because of the shadows except for one or two where the shadows were making distinct patterns which I wanted to be the picture, e.g., the shadow of leaves on the wall.  Most often, it was the light and how it illuminated an object and separated it from the rest, or just made it look different that drew my attention, e.g., the illuminated umbrella,  the lichen photos, and the dragonfly photos.  

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    This is my second entry to the Shadowed Challenge, hence the title of this post.  The first one is a more personal account of my visit to the MIT in Cambridge, MA which can be found here. 

     

    Thank you for dropping in.  Have a great day.

  • A VISIT TO MIT (Lens-Artists #387 Challenge-Shadowed)

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    Last weekend found me inside the halls of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Never in my dreams have I thought of myself walking the halls of that illustrious university. However, our 9th grader was able to enroll in the MIT Spring HSSP program, a university outreach that offers both academic and non-academic courses for 7th to 12th graders .

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    We arrived at Building 10 where my son was supposed to register at around 11:30. Building 10 turned out to be the main building of the campus. Its central lobby was full of eager teenagers and watchful parents and at that hour, bathe in morning sunlight.

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    The lobby was spacious and grand with two story glass walls interrupted by three ornately framed doors. Sunlight illuminated the golden inscriptions on the beige marble walls, gilded the people in its path, and drew shadows on the walls and floors. It was so mesmerizing, I could not help but take pictures upon pictures from that lobby alone.

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    Because I was waiting for my son to finish his activity, I had a few hours to walk around and take pictures. I walked the long corridors and found out that there was another big lobby on the other end of the building. This one, I suppose, would get the afternoon sunlight, but as it was still relatively early in the day, the lobby was still in shadows when I took pictures of them.

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    I was not sure if outsiders could explore the other spaces of the buildings, but I dared go up to the second floor to see more. MIT itself has limited space and its buildings were built close together leaving a little courtyard between the buildings. In early afternoon, the shorter buildings fall into the shadows of their taller companions.

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    I spent the rest of my waiting time in the central lobby and passed the rest of the time watching the shifting light and shadows. The shadows got longer and eventually, there was only the darkened room, the reflections on the floor, and the quiet of a day coming to a close.

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    Finally, we were on our way home. Above the streets of Cambridge were glass buildings reflecting the lights and shadows of their neighboring places. On the sidewalks were the long shadows of people rushing to their destinations.

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    And that included mine which I took amidst my teenager’s protestations.

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    Linking with Journeys with Johnbo’s Lens-Artist Challenge #387: Shadowed.

  • AS THE BLIZZARD SWIRLS

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    This photo was taken during the blizzard.
    





    The wind whistles as it blows
    Depositing  snow on doors and  windows.
    Where has our  garden gone?
    There, beneath three feet of snow dumped on  the ground.

    And the neighbor dares shovel a path;
    insane! the   drifting  snow keeps coming back .
    A car slides on  the snow-filled road
    What urgent need  made him rash and  bold

    From the warmth of our home, I watch the world
    while I dream of tulips peeking from the ground
    A few days ago, spring seemed so close
    But here in New England, who knows

    What February or March would bring-
    An extended winter or an early spring?
    The blizzard whirls and will soon get spent.
    In God's hands, nothing is ever early nor late.


    




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    The poem was written while the blizzard was swirling.  I wrote it to remember  the storm, a kind we have not encountered since a decade or so ago.   Our place received 30 inches of snow in one fell swoop, to add to the already existing snow on the ground.
    




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    The most painful part was the shoveling.  With this much snow, one of the biggest issue was finding a place to dump all the shoveled snow. 
    




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    This is the condition of our road on Wednesday, two days after the blizzard and after the travel ban was lifted in our area.  The snow plows had a difficult task cleaning up such humongous amount of snow.  Good sunshine and above freezing temperatures on Thursday and Friday helped clear out the roads to their blacktops.
    




    Linking with DVERSE POETS’ PUB’s Open Link Night.  
    




    Thank you for dropping by.  Have a great day.
    




    

    


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    SING
    



    

    

    

    



    

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    What else can we  do but sing?

    when snow covers the ground
    and the world is at a standstill
    let our  voices ring

    ring of cheer, ring of laughter
    even if they be a dream
    we can make them  real
    if we just sing

    sing of our aches
    until they break
    sing until our voices tire
    and our bodies fall sleep

    Be like the sparrows 
    flitting and chirping 
    in whatever seasons brings

    sing! sing!
    let not the gray silence win
    over your heart, over your soul
    let your good cheer  ring

    sing of the weather
    sing on the shower 
    sing by the fire
    sing of your desire

    sing! sing even as you read and think
    Sing as you toast this day, then drink
    Yes, sing! Sing and be merry while 

    (I write this sitting on the kitchen sink*.)

    *from  I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
    




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    A response to DVERSE Poets’ PUB’s Poetics Tuesdays prompt, Beginnings are Endings.  For this prompt, one is asked to use one of the quoted opening lines as the ending of the response poem.  Here, I used the line “I write this sitting on the kitchen sink” from I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith.
    




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    The pictures were taken at the local Rennaisance Faire from many years ago.
    




    Thank you for coming by and reading.  Be happy, sing and chase those blues away.
    

    


  • 




    

    REDEMPTION
    



    

    

    

    



    

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    A shroud passed over the moon.

    From darkness’s depths 

    rose the Cross  brighter than the sun.

    Water flowed from where the spear struck;

     there it pooled upon the Rock.

    Stolen Grace has been restored 

    as was  promised long before

    souls knew hunger and cold.

    ___________________

    A Quadrille for Lisa's DVerse Poets Quadrille prompt:  Q242 Hunger Makes the Best of Poetry  using the words from Brenda's Sunday Whirl Wordle #745:
    




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    THE LILY AND THE VIOLIN (Lens-Artists #386: The Power of Juxtaposition)
    



    

    

    

    



    

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    You bear the strength of seasons
    the wisdom of ages
    the voice of generations.
    You are the language  of a soul
    making its way in the darkness.

    I am the quiet of a smile
    the gentleness of a caress. 
    In me are the fragile lines of this passing season.

    You and I are as different
    as night and day are different.

    But I have heard your song
    and now it runs in my veins
    and will still be with me wherever time carries me.

    And you have touched my softness
    and knew the wealth of a moment
    and your music weeps at the beauty of it.
    




    




    




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    This responds to the Juxtaposition challenge posed by Patti for Lens-Artists Photo Challenge #386.
    




    Two summers ago, I was looking for ideas for a picture.  There was one aging calla lily in the garden and I was fascinated by its form.  I paired it with a violin to see how their forms would combine.  I think they complemented each other in both texture and form.
    




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    Thank you for coming over. Have a great day.
    




    

    


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    MOTHER AND SON (Lens-Artists Challenge #385)
    



    

    

    

    



    

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    "Why is the sky blue?"

    And so your questions began
    Countless whys and hows
    Came out  of your innocent mind.

    Did any of my answers satisfy?

    As you  grew bigger 
    So did your  questions.

    Did my mind get smaller
    For I found  it more difficult to give  you answers.

    Then the questioning  stopped
    I wonder if you  had become  wiser 
    Or simply caught up with this your  mother's limited wisdom store?

    I am sure there are still many things 
    You'd still want to know -

    "What am I here for?" 
    "Where do I go?"

    Your work is cut out for you - 
    and while you figure out life for yourself

     I look at you and wonder:

    "Where have all the time gone?"
    




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    The poem is a response to DVERSE POETS’ PUB’S Meeting the Bar prompt: Poems of Questions (No Answers)
    




    




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    The photos respond to the Ritva’s Unusual Crop Challenge  for Lens-Artists Photo Challenge.  
    




    For this photo challenge, I looked back many years in my photo folders and looked for photographs that I could refresh/give new life to  by some cropping and editing. 
    




    For comparison, the original images (resized to save on my WP storage space) are posted below.
    




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