Temple Textures

textures NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

 

The gray marble

Supports

With leisured rich

Array

The carved squares

And the luxuriating

Pebbled

Head in

Golden display.

 

 

Note: The photo was taken at Wat Pho, The Temple of the Reclining Buddha, in Bangkok, Thailand. The pebbled bits represent a small part of the ‘hair’ of the massive Buddha statue. The textures and contrasts of the surfaces were what caught my eye and so the angle of the photo is deliberately ambiguous.

For Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Textures

 

Why Fly By

fly by NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

As they fly

Passing by

Tumbling through

Loops of sky

To hoot and cry,

They spend the day

Waving high

To Earth defy

As some shake heads

Oh my, oh my

And wonder why…

 

fly by1 NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Note: These photos are from Canada’s “Wonderland” amusement park in Vaughn, where my family spent a day this past July, high flying and earth-defying while I mostly did the photo-taking and oh-my-why’ing. … 😉 (In the photo above, they are in the three short horizontal lines in free fall on the vertical line, a moment before being turned upside down and sideways and goodness knows what else).  It was a delightful day all around (pun?) till I got on one kiddie ride in the afternoon … Now, if you’re into these contraptions, that place is an all out-human-milkshake inventive park, just be warned and don’t be fooled by the miniature height requirements: they start them early and loop-di-doop-whoop-loop even those rides meant for preschoolers. …

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Tourism

For Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Circles, curves and arches

 

 

Next in Line

Lined up- NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Framed by

Turquoise water,

Aligned by

Mountains

And turf.

Next in line

For takeoff,

Ere the last leg

To Thailand

And loved ones

And surf.

 

 

 

For the Sunday Stills Photo Challenge: Lines and squares

 

 

A Map Of Reminiscing

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Green Gardens trail in Gros Morne National Park, NL (Timothy Holmes on Unsplash)

 

They’d come to Gros Morne every summer. On “Dad Week.” Camp in a tent that always leaked but Dad wouldn’t replace, every patch and glued seam a map of reminiscing. They’d spend days on the meadows, walk the volcanic beach, go down to Old Man’s Cove.

Sal loved all of it. Even the chill and wet and constant hunger (for there was always more Dad aspired to catch than what he’d actually manage to). Sal never complained. He’d give up everything to breathe the ocean and make up stories about pirates in the coves. He’d even downplay the painful rash and sneezing (they never did find which wild-flower he was allergic to, and he didn’t want to, afraid Mom would say he couldn’t go).

Erosion closed his favorite trail, but not his memories.

He gazed at the ocean and wondered if Dad, whose mind was fading, still had his.

 

 

 

For What Pegman Saw: Newfoundland & Labrador, Canada

 

 

Locked

 

Locked up AdiRozenZvi2

Photo: Adi Rozen-Zvi

 

Life without

Possibility

Of parole.

Robbed of

Freedom.

Wingspan clipped

To the lock

At the end of

A chain

Of events.

Imprisoned

Without fault

But the adversity

And sorrow

Of its birth.

 

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Lock

 

 

No Prayer Crossing

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Photo: Faris Mohammed via Unsplash; Punakha, Bhutan

 

I glanced across the chasm. For someone born and raised in the Alps amidst sharp elevations, I was woefully unequipped. Sometimes I wondered what Karma I’d accumulated to explain it.

“You are protected, Dania.”

I looked up desperately at my mother, who wore an encouraging smile and already had one foot on the swaying bridge and a hand held out to assist me. Even as a baby I’d been known to tremble at the sight of any height, yet Mother’s optimism never wavered that one day her offspring would overcome what to her was an incomprehensible fear. She adored climbing.

Why she took me to Bhutan.

“This bridge is blessed,” my mother tried. “You’ll come to no harm.”

“I cannot,” I whispered, my legs shaking. Each prayer flag a flutter to match mine, the river vertiginous miles below. “No prayer will suffice. My very soul knows it’ll die.”

 

 

For What Pegman Saw: Bhutan

 

Headway

Headway AmitaiAsif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

One man.

One sail.

One boat.

One day.

The rock of waves

Holding a sway,

He grasps the bar

Through misty spray,

As mountains loom

In white and gray.

 

 

For Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: One