mark not words, but boundaries–
you call them kindred
because they verge on your dreams
waves of receding
spirits returning like stars,
still and glittering
naked and exposed inside the lens of your life
My first sevenling poem, for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge with synonyms for family and peace.
I took the above photo on Broadway, somewhere in the 80s I think. If you look closely you can see my headless figure.
This door belongs to a Con Ed substation at 110th and Amsterdam. The building itself is unmemorable, but I like the design of the door.
I spotted these flowers a few weeks ago when walking in Riverside Park. I had never seen what I thought to be an oak tree flowering before.
I could not figure out its identity until this weekend I saw it had seed pods. They were instantly identifiable online–jimson weed.
A toxic member of the nightshade family, although it does have medicinal and hallucinogenic uses. Evidently animals know to steer clear, but humans fall prey to its effects on a regular basis, not always accidentally.
And I wanted to share the view of the tower of light taken from my window Saturday night.
You can join in Thursday doors here.
Just a piece of earth surrounded by walkways, tables with chairs and benches, buildings. A dorm, a student center under renovation, classrooms, a hedge.
Always there are birds. Hopeful begging sparrows, robins searching the grass even in snow, starlings flashing yellow beaks, the red of cardinals and the screech of blue jays. A mockingbird that serenades for nearly half an hour one morning. A nuthatch on the trunk of the tree. A flicker, often heard but never seen. A hawk overhead, and Crow, always loudly demanding attention. New birds we can’t get close enough to identify clearly. We look at photos online and argue about what is closest to what we thought we saw.
Students wander past, occasionally sit for awhile. Children and dogs play on the lawn. But often it’s just the three of us—two coffees, one tea. We walk from uptown and downtown to meet for a few hours together on a sleepy college campus, with the sky above and the sounds of the city fading far away.
turning voices gather un
der branches soon bare
The top photo is of the doors of a Columbia University dorm that sits on one side of the place my daughters and I often meet. Obviously not built recently…
Also written for Brendan at earthweal who asked us to consider how nature and humans can adapt to each other to provide places for both to thrive.
You can join in Thursday doors here.
looking for doors looking
for ways to connect
one with another–
walking and looking
for the one door that becomes the center,
the pivot that marks where I turn around
should I retrace my path?
or sit for awhile
and consider how
I came to be here,
thinking of all the doors I haven’t seen–
they are not lost—just waiting to be found
I photographed this mansion on Riverside Drive awhile ago, but my front views were not very good, so I made a special trip back to photograph the front again.
You can’t get close to the front, but the side, on West 89th Street, is very accessible–you can even drive into the doorway.
Built by Isaac Rice, an attorney and investor, in the early 1900s, in 1907 it was sold to cigarette manufacturer Solomon Schinasi, and then to a Yeshiva in 1954. There was a huge battle in 1980 over whether it should be landmarked or sold to a developer who would have knocked it down and built another highrise–Landmarks won out, and it remains a cash-strapped school.
And see more Thursday Doors here. Although Dan is on vacation this week, there are lots of previous posts to peruse.
I’ve always liked this house on West End Ave. The entrance is on the side.
I couldn’t get a straight on angle to photo the door. It has nice details on the top and in the surrounding arch.
And here’s some flowers I saw while walking along Columbus Avenue.
You can see more doors and join in here.
some call the city a jungle,
I do like arched doors, and here are a few I saw on my travels around NYC last week. The one above and below were on opposite ends of the same block.
I’ve written a zeno poem for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday with synonyms for green and morass. We can now use any form from the poet’s collective list.
Here’s an arched side door next to some scaffolding, ubiquitous in Manhattan.
And some greenery and hydrangeas from the city parks–we are still getting a lot of rain.
My younger daughter used to play softball on this field in Central Park. It was a foggy day, and the fields were closed on account of being so wet. hence the red flag.
You can see more and join in here for Thursday Doors.
let yourself be
enchanted with each moment
as it appears
July makes me long for the ocean, so my grid is composed of ocean doors. But I also found a blue house door into the garden level of a brownstone that makes me think its owners are reminding themselves too every day of the sea.
You can join Thursday Doors here.
There is nothing else than now. There is neither yesterday, certainly, nor is there any tomorrow. How old must you be before you know that?
— Ernest Hemingway (For Whom the Bell Tolls,1940)
cocooned in green light
I am nowhere but right here
dappled by these trees
Central Park right now is green, green, green.
Jade at dVerse asked us to choose one of the Hemingway quotes she provided and write a poem in response. I shortened the quote for my short response.
And because it’s Thursday, I’m including some firehouse doors from new and old neighborhoods. Firefighters are very much aware of the nowness of life.
Although I think you could make the case for doors in the Central Park photos as well…
Your can add your own doors and see many others at Thursday Doors.
I went back to the turret house I photographed a few weeks ago to try to get a better photo of both the building and the entrance door. Above is the door.
And here’s a view of the entire house, taken from the park across the street on Riverside Drive.
This was my original photo.
I’m also posting some (to me) magical flowers I keep seeing on my walks in Riverside Park. I tried to figure out what they were online with no luck. Does anyone know?
I know exactly where they are–at 106 Street–because there is the statue of Franz Sigel across the street at the top of the steps. My longest residence anywhere in my life was up those steps, down 106 Street one block, and in the middle of the block to the left on West End Avenue. But I’ve never seen these flowers before.
I hope they continue to plant them every year!
It’s Thursday, so I’m linking to Thursday Doors.
which side of the door welcomes?
which side retreats?
every opening carries a journey–
without or within?
the threshold faces both ways
Colleen’s #TankaTuesday theme of travel/journeys works well with my twin Thursday doors. I’ve written a gogyohka.
Join Thursday Doors here: https://nofacilities.com/2021/05/27/stately-springfield-doors/
It’s Thursday, so I’ll start with the door. My daughters took me to the NY Botanical Garden for Mother’s Day last Sunday. One week late–it was sold out for actual Mother’s Day. We remembered the Rock Garden from a very cold autumn day when we visited a few years ago and this was the only warmish place.
There were still pockets of flowers to be seen, but the overall impression was very green. We’ve had a lot of rain.
Water is part of the landscape throughout the garden.
And, of course, rocks.
Irises were still blooming.
Every view was inviting.
I have many more photos–flowers, trees, art–but the only door in them was to the Rock Garden. I’ll save those for another post. I did not get any good photos of the many birds, though I tried. Robins everywhere, blue jays, sparrows, mourning doves, red-winged blackbirds, finches, a hawk, even a blue heron. And many bird calls I did not recognize.
And a visit to the Bronx! The farthest I’ve been in 18 months. It felt good.
Join Thursday Doors here: https://nofacilities.com/2021/05/20/dr-seuss-museum/