Things I Learned

Here are some of the things I learned

on my trip to Italy.

1. Women in Italy take their footwear seriously.

I'm not sure about the men. 

Seriously. . . . Seriously?

2. Ordering a margarita can bring surprising results.

3. Every meal should start with gelato,

preferably Creme Caramel, Caffe, or Bailey's

though this Limoncello was pretty good too.

4. There are service gondolas used by Venetian locals

that cost only half a Euro, a darn sight cheaper

than the tourist version. One is just past

the Rialto Bridge on the side of the market.

It just takes you from one side of the canal

to the other, but hey -- I've ridden in a gondola!

5. The after-hours tour of the Vatican museum

was worth every dime.

6. The Amalfi Coast is breath-taking.

7. Store windows in Venice are show-stoppers.

8. It's best to go to Italy with your bags already full

if you're on a budget.

9. The mosaic tile floors in Rome are simply amazing.

These are in the Vatican museum.

(This one's for you, Rebecca.)

Little Things

Sometimes it's the little things  you notice

when you look closely.

Did you see she's making music

despite her limitations?

Morning Light

Some mornings the merest hint of light

 creeps in through the cracks

and begs you to crawl from your bed

to see what you'd have missed

if you stayed too long

in the land of dreams.

Water Like Glass © 2010 Meri Arnett-Kremian

If you listen to your heart,

if you pull on your clothes

despite your inclination to snooze

just a few minutes more,

you just might find near-perfect light

and calm waters.



First Light Over Rialto Bridge © 2010 Meri Arnett-Kremian

There.

Picture perfect.

Hint

The photography workshop has been fabulous.

Here’s a hint of things to come.

Copyright 2010 Meri Arnett-Kremian. All rights reserved.

i found this at emma tree

i found this at Emma Tree,

and she found it at Julochka's,

and  
 I thought I had something to say
along the same lines,  

So. . . .

if i were a month i’d be september the month of my birth,

 september in all her splendor,

going out in a blaze of glory

if i were a day i’d be

the last day of school,

with summer spread out before me

like frosting on a cupcake.

if i were a time of day i’d be 

the moment the first star appears,

that instant when you wish

 something you want to come true

if i were a font i’d be Mariah

 or maybe Mistral, 

though you really can't tell

the difference between them.

if i were a sea animal i’d be a seahorse

because my husband would tend the children

while I floated around curling and uncurling

my dainty spiral tail, flirting with every guy 

floating nearby.

Photograph © National Geographic

if i were a direction i’d be the east, 

the place of new beginnings and first light.

if i were a piece of furniture i’d be a canopy bed 

with a delicate frame draped in yards and yards of netting,

a house for afternoon delight

and the hostess for sweet, sweet dreams.

if i were a liquid i’d be a salt-rimmed Margarita

with a dash of Damiana thrown in

 to unleash a woman's passion

and accentuate her sultry ways

if i were a tool i’d be an eggbeater,

stirring things up to a froth of foam

if i were a fruit i’d be a ripe and luscious peach

with soft downy skin to nuzzle up against,

or maybe an Orange with just a hint of 

Cottage Cheese Cellulite Visible on my Thighs.

if i were material i’d be 

soft white yarn

if i were a scent i’d be

Pop Corn © 2010 Meri Arnett-Kremian

if i were a bird i’d be

a sleek ballet dancer

performing on windswept beaches  

Jumping for Joy ©2010 Meri Arnett-Kremian

if i were a poem 

i'd be

"If you want me"

by Ellen Bass

part of which reads

. . . if I cry, if my sorrow is not more dear
than oceans of dolphins in the orange morning waves


if you will not lavish me until my body
like a dying fish, gives up
and I swim as I have flown in my dreams


if you are saving something
if you have not
made up your mind
do not come to me. . . .

Yes, I'd definitely be THAT poem


* * * * * * * * * * * 

Like Debi Smith Kaitch Jones says:

c'mon, play along.

see what you find when you ask what you'd be.

and ignore any comments

saying "you are so self-absorbed."

or say yes, i am,

welcome.

come on in.

they will

Snippets of Color

A lot of you seem to love super-saturated color

like those you see in Dale Chihuly's masterpieces.

And since I'm in Venice, so near the island of Murano

where glass making has been a way of life,

I am inspired to feature photographs

 of my favorite snippets of Chihuly color.

Enjoy!

(All these photos are closeups of small sections of

Chihuly's Bridge of Glass in Tacoma. 
To photograph them, you have to shoot up,
so stiff necks go along with the territory.) 

What Catches Your Eye?

When you're looking at the world through a camera lens,

what kinds of things catch your eye?

What makes you choose to capture

one vignette over another,

makes you smile, touches your heart, 

pours a stream of calm into your day?

Is there a theme, a mood, a character of light or twilight,

something that unifies your work?

  

In other words, do you have a vision?  

Or is it a random thing?

I love:

shiny things

feathery things

reflections & light bouncing off water

sleeping babies

artfully arranged store window displays

repetition and visual rhythm

lots of color and Chihuly's glass.

Love is a Bella Thing (Reprise)

I've posted an earlier version of this piece before,

but it's been reworked after a few astute comments

in a manuscript group session in a writing workshop

I attended a while ago. So here it is again,

posted in its new incarnation. Hope you don't mind.

Love is a Bella Thing

Sometimes I think that love
is an extraordinary guy

dressed in everyday clothes,
a wily clown that springs tricks
and slaps his knee in delight
at lovers' silly pratfalls.


I'd love to greet him, "Ciao bella!"
the moment he turns the corner,
sticks out his foot and trips me up,
skinning my knee, the one

that's puffed and swollen, the one

that bumps and grinds just like a stripper.

I'd love to serenade him with a song

or beggar Rumi's words recounting -

how fierce like a lion, tender like the evening star -

love dribbled warm and moist in the tender

cracks of his soul. I know, I know, he was talking

about God but love in all its forms is my god.

I'd sure as hell prefer to quote Rumi saying,

"I was dead, then alive. Weeping, then laughing," 

than recall that once I was alive and laughing,

until the assassin struck and love exsanguinated.

But here you are, you clown, you miracle worker.

La dolce vita. So unexpected this close side of death.

Spirals

Relyn recently invited us to post our No. 5 and 
No. 10 posts from our blog infancies. I'm not sure what 
number this was, but it was a very early post.
I've reworked it just a bit and am posting it
while I'm on a more exterior journey.

- meri

  

To me, spirals bespeak an inner journey,

a heroic quest to perfectly express

our uniqueness and soul signature.

"Spiral" © 2008 Meri Arnett-Kremian 

 All of us encounter layers of meaning, find ourselves

 confronted with challenges time and again.

Sometimes it's the same old stuff in new packages.

Other times it's brand new stuff

because we've learned some of the earlier lessons

 and we're ready for bigger 

(and hopefully BETTER) things. 

Who hasn't circled round and round,

trying to find that center 

of stillness and peace?

Who hasn't longed for a sure

 and steady path to a blissful destination,

even if it turns out to be 

a mere resting place?

What journey are you taking, here and now,

in this time of changing consciousness?

What keeps you going deeper and deeper, 

even when going deeper makes you feel

like you're about to drown 

and you're afraid you'll never be able to breathe

 underwater long enough to reach

 the sweet center

where your soul provides a home?