Summer is here! This is the time I travel vicariously through others. Because of circumstances keeping me at home this summer, I will not be traveling. But my 24 year-old niece recently toured Portugal and posted dreamy, beautiful photos. I asked her if I should put Portugal on my bucket list and her response was “Yes! The hills/stairs are killer but it’s so beautiful.” I’m having second thoughts, but maybe I can build up to it. My walking path is flat and the last time I did an elliptical, I couldn’t walk for a few days. This photo was taken by Taylor Saxena in Madeira, Portugal.
For this flash draft, I used my Insight Timer, an ap that offers a timer with ambient sounds as well as meditations. I’ve set the timer for 5 minutes. When you write today, consider a time limit and accept what comes.
Thoughts come and go. Feelings come and go. Find out what it is that remains.
Ramana Maharshi
Sometimes
I think about going.
Sometimes
I feel what it means to stay.
Stay near you,
listen to the sounds of your voice;
stay for what may be
the last time.
Margaret Simon, draft
Please sit and stay. Write what comes and place your words in the comments. They don’t have to be good or perfect, but they are yours for now, this moment. Reply to other writers with encouraging words.
I have heard wonderful things about Portugal, but like you, Margaret, have not been there. The photo is beautiful, and your poem poignant. I look forward to others’ responses.
Oh, tree with mottled bark,
Today you are like me:
Safe within solid walls,
Strong and full of life;
Arms spread open,
We look out upon the world.
Jane Heitman Healy, draft
Jane: I love the safety, the strength and full of life, arms spread wide. A lovely, welcoming image.
Love the comparison to self.
We used some of the same words, Jane – mottled, strong.
“safe within solid walls” is comforting.
i love that mottled bard, too – and note that like you, I saw the “we” in this image
Safe is such an apt word when I think of trees. Love the s-words alliterating throughout.
Yes, like you, in your attention to the world, the beauty of nature and flowers and life. Also I love “strong and full of life;”, Jane. Oh to “look out upon the world” and be so full of strength and hope and solidness. Wishing we could gift these traits to so many in need. Be like a tree!!! A new motto? Perhaps. Thanks, Jane.
Thank you all for your affirming words.
This picture makes me want to inhale deeply.
we gaze together
a blue horizon beckons
still, this tree and me
Patricia J. Franz, draft
Patricia: I love “this tree and me.” Yes!
I love the idea of both you and the tree gazing over the horizon. I agree the photo does make one want to inhale deeply!
Love “this tree and me”
I feel the stillness, too, in the photo and your poem.
To feel that peace, to be immersed in the sea’s calm and beautiful hues. To stand, to be still, to capture those moments life brings into view. Lovely, Patricia.
A beautiful serenity shared by you & the tree. Aaah!
Thanks, Margaret. Your poem is very poignant, and my thoughts are with you. I didn’t time myself, but this was written in haste…
A leafy arch
An old wall
And the big
strong trunk
of a sycamore
blotched and
beautiful
rooted in patience
offering shade
and perhaps
a vantage point
for a glimpse
of glory
– Karen Eastlund, draft
“a glimpse of glory”…yeah!
“blotched and beautiful” – I’m seeing myself in your words (standing with that tree)
“blotched and
beautiful
rooted in patience” – these words speak to me.
We all seem to be going with a theme of stillness, patience, presence. I love your quick thin draft that ends with glory.
“blotched and/ beautiful/ rooted in patience” speak to me so completely, Karen. I think of patience as an essential piece of character. Time to meditate on this beautiful image, the strong and rooted, tree, the beauty to see and the glimpse available to all no matter how blotched or how beautiful. Essences, here. I love your quick write.
Lovely, Karen. “rooted in patience” stands out to me.
In the News, Another Tragic Loss
Madeira and cork.
Jean, Rachel, John.
Grandpa.
Simpler times,
family, wine
and hope.
Staring at azure waters
wrapped in dreams.
Splashes of memories, then
sailing on
for what was to be
hardwon progress.
Drops of salt water tears
float on the wind.
In the city.
Janet Clare Fagal
.
I like “azure waters wrapped in dreams” – very comforting.
“simpler times,/family, wine/and hope” — love how this image blesses lives
“Splashes of memories” of those “simpler times” brings me back to so many scenes of my own.
“salt water tears” touch my heart today. There is too much loss.
i love the sensory aspects of this poem, Janet, and feel the loss. “Splashes of memories, then/sailing on” is life itself.
What a gorgeous photo! I’ve seen trees like this without bark when I was in PA, but don’t know what kind it is. I loved the up close and distance in the photo. Put on “Weightless” and wrote for about 4 min.
away
i see your Near
i sense your Far
a leaf a branch
a shooting star
and all the while
you meditate
in Unknown Space
and can’t relate
the places that
your Mind has gone
but still i watch
for any Dawn
By Donna JT Smith ©2023
Lovely and lyrical. I especially like
i see your Near
i sense your Far
a leaf a branch
a shooting star
love “your Near…your Far” – the ethereal spirit that stays
“Unknown space” says so much about the demented mind. Where is my mother, I ask most days. I look for glimmers of who she once was. Writing is solace.
Writing is solace. I watch for any sign of him. When he laughs at something funny I’ve said, it just tickles me. It doesn’t happen often and it is fleeting…but it’s him. I am so sorry you are dealing with this with your mother. Hugs.
Oh, you are a writer I envy on many levels, Donna. I hope we get time again this summer to meet. I know Margery Maddox has been on a Maine writing retreat. Mine will have aspects of that, but also grandchildren and beach time. That “unknown space where your mind has gone……how near and yet how far.” This makes me remember how much you have on your plate. And in a way your poem-ing feels like a balm. At least I hope on some days. Hugs.
Yea! It would be great to get together between all you really need to fit in! I will be more diligent to get a caretaker for those precious minutes.
Beautiful rhyming, Donna, an opening into the unknown
I feel the longing in your poem, Margaret.
mottled tree
standing tall
in the shadow of the sea—
stay strong
help me camouflage my silent worries
as words of comfort and peace
“camouflage my silent worries
as words of comfort and peace” – certainly a strength to be able to accomplish this!
“in the shadow of the sea” –I feel the waiting, the longing
Again those s-words resound a peaceful hush, shadow, see, stay, strong, silent…peace.
It is interesting how “things” can give us strength. “camouflage my silent worries/as words of comfort and peace” is a challenge that the tree can certainly help with.
Oh, Rose, I so agree with Donna. In the shadow of the sea, as well. Having lived near water my entire life I know viscerally its healing ways.
For Margaret.
Your poem and photo choice brought out a lot for each of us. I can only begin to imagine the loss in the realm of living with a loved one who no longer has their full capacities or memory and once in a while, perhaps a glimmer of what once was. Much has been written about this and much more to learn and know. Hopefully a cure, a reason, a treatment that is better to preserve everyone’s solid-ness and view. My heart goes with yours as you navigate these times, but then the grandchildren show you that life goes on as does she in them. Glimpses and love, all there out the window in time. Your poem captures your loneliness and love so artfully. And that last time……my first published poem included a nod to the last time I was with my dad. Of course did not know it but blessedly there was something that kept me from forgetting. It was Oct. 1, 2005. Could have been yesterday. I keep the memories alive all the time and there is really very little pain now…..his words from long ago in 1985, “never fear death,” Janet have helped me so much. He was a wise and good man and loving father. I know your parents were/are for you, too. Blessings from up north (where it will be 89 today!),