over the past weeks
a gentle autumn sun
has painted colored leaves
upon the ground
and thinned
the bright abundance
of the wooded ranges

most of the harvest
is securely stored by now
or sold at morning markets
by weathered men and women
in country garbs

vintners are busy with their lots
fermenting grapes
and entertaining those
who see their visit
as pleasant pastime and escape
from daily urban chores

hunters and lumbermen
are waking up
to shoot and mark

schools by this time
have settled into the new year
teachers are happy still to share
the knowledge of our world
with students still inclined
to listen

businessmen
remembering their vacations
on the Bahamas or in Saint Tropez
step sprightly into offices
womanned by secretaries dreaming secretly
of beautiful Mallorca summers
and of those never-ending nights
on the Algarve

I guess it is a human thing
to find a new beginning
and do best
when nature’s breath goes easy
to collect the strength
for yet another fruitful year

or were it better
that we also took a rest?

           * *

Algarve

The cold northerly wind has died down
if it wants to blow it can do so in July and August
when the heat is unpleasant, and the birds and I sit under or in trees
the time of year when the sun is an enemy.
It is the immense clear sky in Algarve that attracts me, not
the beaches, and the smell of suntan lotion I can do without.
No other country has such pure air it brings the best in people
even the Nordic become mellow and malleable in Portugal.
We are having lunch in Albufeira they tend to cater for
the English palate, food without garlic and onions are not food,
I rather drive to Almodovar and eat Pernil with cabbage
and inhale the aroma of garlic, but not today, perhaps next week
if all is well with the world

Algarve

The cold northerly wind has died down
if it wants to blow it can do so in July and August
when the heat is unpleasant, and the birds and I sit under or in trees
the time of year when the sun is an enemy.
It is the immense clear sky in Algarve that attracts me, not
the beaches, and the smell of suntan lotion I can do without.
No other country has such pure air it brings the best in people
even the Nordic become mellow and malleable in Portugal.
We are having lunch in Albufeira they tend to cater for
the English palate, food without garlic and onions are not food,
I rather drive to Almodovar and eat Pernil with cabbage
and inhale the aroma of garlic, but not today, perhaps next week
if all is well with the world

Olive and Orange
From the years of 650 and onwards Andalusia
Was a tolerant Arabic province, which even tolerated
the Jewish tradesmen pushing their handcarts on
cobble stones and the Christians with their infernal
bells ringing on Sunday mornings.
The three religions lived side my side in relative
harmony, one can say the following 300 years
Andalusia and part of Algarve was an oasis of peace.
The Arab architecture is still there and in music
one can still hear the Arabic influence not to forget
the poetry inspired in beautiful gardens with running
water and cooling shade, where love was made and
in Yasmin scented afternoons.

Nothing lasts forever the Christian horde came with
their swords -the ISIS of the time- heads rolled in the sand
Andalusia became a Catholic nation, yet the echo of more
a contemplative time lingers on.
This story was told to me by the oldest olive tree in the world
that lives in a valley of orange trees.

The Inland Algarve

The landscape so oddly shaped
Had once been a domestic landscape
Walking along narrow cart-wheel
Tracks I often come across the remnant
Of dwellings that once had housed
Poverty-stricken people who had
Ploughed small and reluctant fields
Olive trees had grown wild and tall
Bearing bitter fruit.
Sone walls had no purpose sinking
Back to earth becoming rocks again.
A haunted landscape in the inland
Algarve and no one saw it doomed
Beauty.
Rabbits and boars dominated in peace
And sheep grazed in the glooming.
Stillness yet I sensed voices that once
Had loved and lived struggling
Against poverty and early death.

quietly
over the past week
a gentle autumn sun
has painted colored leaves
upon the ground
and thinned
the bright abundance
of the wooded ranges

most of the harvest
is securely stored by now
or sold at morning markets
by weathered men and women
in their country garbs

vintners are busy with their lots
fermenting grapes
and entertaining those
who see their visit
as pleasant pastime and escape
from daily urban chores

hunters and lumbermen
are waking up
to shoot and mark

schools by this time
have settled into the new year
teachers are happy still to share
the knowledge of our world
with students still inclined
to listen

businessmen, remembering their vacations
on the Bahamas or in Saint Tropez
step sprightly into offices
womanned by secretaries dreaming secretly
of beautiful Mallorca summers
and those never-ending nights
at the Algarve

I guess it is a human thing
to find a new beginning
at the time when nature’s breath
goes easy
to collect the strength
for yet another fruitful year

Or were it better
that we also took a rest?

platinum rays of an
algarvian december sun
touch a magical landscape
that pulses with ancient
life
and as lushly green undulating hills
with orange groves and
olive trees and
scattered red rocks
unfold under
a cloudless cerulean sky
I hear

hono lena’i’ja

a far away echo is stirring
deep within
sending shivers down my spine
awakening akeneic memory
without words
without thoughts –
a silent knowing

my akene explodes in
white hot light
engulfing my whole beingness –
painful almost
it takes my breath
away

wordless feelings
but I know
lemuria is rising

Eja’i Oja’i

© Jasmine Martin, the Algarve, Portugal, December 8, 2014

Algarve

The future for the tourist industry is not uplifting
because the future points to fewer people travelling
and that I think is a bonus, the very idea of moving
ca mass of people from one destination
to another but not teaching them anything disturbing
like the countries they visit have a history
of tyranny.
A good example is the Algarve, once the most impoverished region
in Portugal, it was where politically suspect people
was sent, but then it was discovered and the region
became flush with money and hundred of apartment
blocks were built, if not of the highest quality.
the Co-vi virus is not going away and when it does
it will be replaced by a new pestilence.
I think to save humanity we have to consume less
and nations, people should stay where they are.
The tourist industry was not made to educate anyone
but simply a way to make money

DR. Congo
I saw the villa Joseph Kabila bought in Algarve it is to be a bolt hole
when he has to flee Congo, he has blood on his hands perhaps not
enough for Hague to bother about, like so many African presidents,
he has robbed his country to destitution.
Perhaps this echoing country, with forests is too big to be governed
especially since no money is spent on  new roads; Kinshasa its capital is
run mostly by mixed races, not even they can keep order and people
throw all their ******* in the street.
Joseph Kabila, Joseph's father, tried ordered a thousand wheelbarrows
gave a job to ditto street cleaners who sold their wheelbarrows and
consequently lost their jobs. But these setbacks are not the problem
Congo is too rich in minerals, oil and timber and the big international
businesses have descended upon the land corrupting all in its wake like
a locust plague they have failed to get rid of and they have no interest
in making Congo a nation which, it will be when it is a more modern.  
I looked inside the villa it had cavernous rooms gold and glitter quite
fitting for someone who doesn't know the value of anything but gems
and never mind the culture

Don't stop now, Ireland is
just beginning to warm up.

Imagine, an Irish Riviera,
a Costa Brava, an Algarve.

Olives, Cotton, Oranges,  all
thanks to carbon emissions.

Don't stop now, it is a form
of weather discrimination.

Welcome to Ulster where the
red hand of Lucifer awaits you.

A day in my life

She coming out of the bus she has forgotten the umbrella walks
slowly and her face is more African now that she is old,
she uses it as a walking stick, which she says for the aged, I think
my love for her has grown over the years, and I cannot think of
the time we were apart before we met twenty-two odd years ago.
We have Christmas day here and next day take the bus to
a hospital in Lisbon that specialises in hip replacement
We will stay the night in the metropole have good meal and look
at things- for my part rather like a grumpy North Korean leader
then back to my Algarve with trees and big boulders  
Tomorrow we are eating at a hotel they are not serving turkey but
Cabrito (goat meat) sauté potatoes and a lot of sweets I don't care to
know about; since I'm driving only water or tomato juice.
It is an ordeal for me to be among people I don't know I will take 5 ml
of ******, it will keep me calm until I simmer down and laugh at bad jokes
as told by an exhibitionist. We can't stay long since we are living in the morn
On a short walk outdoors I saw my dog she walked beside me I bent down  
to pat her head but she saw something and ran into the bushes I called her
name; Bambi come here, when it dawn on me she had been dead for ten
years and it made me think of my own mortality, but not in a gloomy way.
Sun, blue sky and stillness now the hunters have gone drinking in a cafe,
but the visit from Bambi perked me up so did a cup of coffee when coming
home, nothing out of the ordinary yet, I persist on dreaming of tomorrow

The rule of law

There was a storm over Sahara; waves of sand flew up, up, up
– I wrote "up" thrice because my grammar checker tells me I can't
it tend to be intrusive,- transformed into white dust it mixed
with indigo clouds, drifted to Algarve and shed tonnes of dust
layers of dust everywhere the morning village looked like
a ghost town, we scan the sky hope for proper rain the type
that clean and makes you wet, but it is a perilous wish, a deluge
can last for days inundate the basement and drown a family
of mice that live in accord are so discreet I have not seen them;
more than can be said about the eleven million illegals in the USA
that with the blessing by rancorous Democrats that let them rules
the political agenda and give lawbreaker a safe heaven, where  
they are free to insult the president and the rule of law

law