The Buddha on the Road

On the Road


This will be the last “On the Road” prompts.  Thank you very much to everyone who followed the site and for the wonderful poems you have written in response to prompt.

This week I’ve been really struggling to write a prompt.   I’ve had lot of ideas but can’t seem to get traction on any of them.   Searching for inspiration I came across the three vows of the Japanese haiku poet Tanoka –

Do not attempt the impossible.

Do not feel regret for the past.

Do not berate oneself.

I feel like I am attempting the impossible in trying to keep things going here beyond this week.   The idea for the site grew out of online conversations with another haiku poet.   I was under the impression she wanted to be involved and was interested in creating some prompts.    What actually happened was that when I let…

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Yellow Crystal Seeds

Today – July 26 – is New Year’s Day in the Mayan calendar.   The coming year is designated as a Yellow Crystal Seed year.   Whether or not you choose to pay this any mind is up to you.

I like the symbolism and the idea that the next twelve months are a fertile time in which to plant seeds for future growth.

Apparent November 8, 2016 – the day of the US election was a Yellow Crystal Seed Day.   This would appear to indicate that what grows from yellow crystal seeds depends entirely on what kind of seeds are planted.

Luckily, on a personal level, we don’t need to hold a nation wide election to determine what  seeds we plant as individuals over the coming months.   In this matter we have complete free will.  What seeds we plant, nurture and let grow is up to us.


prompt:  Colleen Chesebro poetry challenge – heat, confuse


In the slipstream

Caught in the slipstream – a current of opinion swirling around me –

– it is a compelling voice – this collective flow of opinion – the group consensus –


Maybe it’s a tribal thing dating from cave times – this feeling that if I go against the group I won’t survive – I’ll be exiled – cut off and left for dead.


this flow of the group mind
does not correspond
with the way my own energy

                   Days end - East Beach

prompt:   Patrick’s Pic and Word challenge – current –


Time is relative

My response to this week’s “On The Road” prompt –

Grey winter weather closes in.  Memories of the road and journeys taken fade to shadows.  The fireside, music playing, a good book and the view of misty gums beyond the room is enough for now.

Yet, even as I sit, the book falls to my lap as the music carries me away. Through the mist I catch glimpses of the road out – another journey yet to be taken.



Scrolling through my endless photos of landscape looking for something unusual I came across this set of images I took a couple of years.   The blue and red colours and geometric shapes are an unusual subject matter for me.  The fact I’ve included kids in these makes them even more unusual.   I’m a person who likes to be behind the camera not in front of it and I find most of the people in my life feel the same way so they rarely appear in my photos.

056  060

161  156


Inside Hagia Sophia

Hagia Sophia in Istanbul is one of the strangest buildings I have ever been in.   Before I entered I was sure I knew what to expect for I’d  been hearing about the building in art history classes since I was in Year 8.  I knew that it was built in 537 AD and that its central dome is a remarkable feat of architectural engineering. I knew too that that it had been first a Christian cathedral then an Islamic mosque and was now a museum.

Stepping inside the building I was immediately immersed in a dusty world heavy with twenty centuries of religious activity. Ochre coloured domes covered with faded frescos were punctuated by bright while holes of light pouring through scores of tiny arched windows. The electric lights twinkling on huge chandeliers suspended in the vastness were not bright enough to penetrate the shadowy, purple depths where frescoed angels flew across the walls.  Suspended on sinuous twisting cables large discs inscribed with Arabic calligraphy protruded out in the open space of the large central dome.  The circular shape was echoed in the designs that decorated the ceilings of the domes.  

I felt like I had entered some kind of repository – a brain or a nerve centre that pulsated with the weight of middle eastern religious history.

                                                                   collage_20160321222002970 Inside Hagia Sophia – digital collage

It was only when I wrote this post that I did some more reading about the building and discovered it was named after a saint named Sophia and that word Sophia means wisdom – how fitting that it reminded me of a brain. 

                                                                    collage_20160326222555646_20160326222822545Inside Hagia Sophia – digital collage 2



A moment

Here’s my response to my latest On the Road prompt here  .  ___________________________________________________________________________________

A hipster girl walked past me in a busy shop, a mobile phone pressed to her ear. “That’s so hectic,” she said.

Good word for it, I thought.   It is so hectic down here right now.  The place is overrun with international tourists and kids on school holidays.  Parking has become a competitive sport.

Part of the hectic feeling comes from my sense that time is going faster than usual.   How can be July already?  Another factor is the weird sense of unreality that comes over me sometimes.   I feel like I am in glitch and that I am out phase with other people.  Conversations seem to happen across a gulf of miscommunication and missed connections. “Have a nice day,” people say in voices that sound robotic, pre-programmed.  I wonder if I have strayed into The Truman Show.

Yesterday it all got too much and I drove to a bush reserve out of town.  Avoiding the tourists I parked away from the main picnic areas and walked back into the hills.

There I entered another world.  I followed narrow animal trails of damp, dark earth into a clearing of bright green winter grasses growing low to the ground.  Trees protected me on all sides.   Wattle was already bursting into flower on some.   The sight of it took me by surprise.   Somehow in town I’d overlooked these markers of the year’s passage.   Here the natural order of things reasserted itself.

I stood stock still and let the sounds and colours of nature wash over me – through me.   The black trunks of the wattle trees around me became my temple walls.   A soft wind blew through the tree tops.    Birds twittered.   Frogs croaked in the wetlands. Something shifted in my heart and mind.   For the first time in days I felt real, alive.