Mundane Monday

Silhouette – Mundane Monday

Mundane Monday Challenge is created to find beauty in almost everything.

The challenge is simple. Find beauty in everyday mundane things, capture the beauty and upload the photographs.


I love passing this trail on my evening strolls when the sunset gives its beautiful rosy blush to the sky. My aim was the little birdie perched on the cactus, but I like how the total image turned out.

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A Click A Day · Mundane Monday

Bird Walk – Mundane Monday.

Mundane Monday Challenge is created to find beauty in almost everything.

The challenge is simple. Find beauty in everyday mundane things, capture the beauty and upload the photographs.


Saw this lovely feet patterns made on the sand during my evening walk, but alas, I didn’t see the birdie that owned the steps. I guess she took her walk earlier 🙂

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Mundane Monday

Road Block…Is it Mundane or not?

Mundane Monday challenge is created to find beauty in almost everything.

The challenge is simple : find beauty in everyday mundane things, capture the beauty and upload the photographs.


Is it usual to have a little birdie create a road block when you are stepping out for a brisk walk? The mirrored feet in the glass belongs to me 😉

Birdie stood nicely while I took several shots and finally flew away to its own business, not agreeing to go for a stroll with me. Lovely not so mundane way to start an ordinary day.

Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

Out of the silent breath

Weave that Dream

The Pianist…

The beautiful, haunting chords of music floated into the night sky. They gripped my heartstrings with their mesmeric and tranquil melody.

This has become my new opium of choice. I went to sleep and woke up with the tunes on constant replay in my head. My sleep was sound and my dreams were blissful. I had taken to humming the tune unconsciously even as I clattered away rapidly on my word processor at work. I was having a love affair.

I took to sitting on the bench under the Maple tree by the Hudson river walk path, right beneath the line of sight of his apartment window, where I permitted the poignant tale by music to soak into my dry, love parched heart. Even my pooch’s ears always twitched in appreciation.

The dips and high notes told a story of strength, of sadness, enduring love and passion.

I didn’t know who the pianist was, but for several weeks, Bella and I would take our walk down to the bay-side just to listen to the love notes of his talented fingers; his music a balm to my bruised soul.

It happened to me by chance. Falling in love with an unseen stranger.

I had grown bored of my usual walk route, my restless spirit decided to try the less trodden river path.

The depth of feelings which emanated from the music that floated down sounded like a version of Marvin Gaye and Barry White blues rolled into one. It was smoky, dreamy, deep and satisfying. I was hooked. Bella yipped softly along to this pure sound of music, her little tail stuck in the air. We were both lovestruck as silent unbidden tears trickled down my cheeks in throes of undistinguished emotions.

Walking down that path became a ritual. A daily fix like an addict, to fingers that coaxed the piano into giving so much and a deep, rich and sexy voice that caused my stomach muscles to tighten. My yearning to see the face behind these beautiful ministrations grew immensely.

I painted a picture of this elusive enigma and my mind willed him to take a look out of his window.

The window directly overlooked the river – with its constant stream of ferries, yachts, gliders and float planes. I was sure that the view would be awesome.

I felt as if the pianist had cast a spell on me; and that I would awaken from my slumber, thoroughly ravished and looking up into the compelling eyes of my lover. I knew that it was just a matter of time.

Our eyes had finally met, held and connected with a sizzle.

That evening, the air smelled like rain, yet I could not resist the siren call of my pianist.

I knew that he would be playing by now, and would be waiting for his one woman and dog audience. Tonight would be different I felt. So, I dressed in my soft cashmere pink sweater, figure enhancing stretch pants, hair packed in a chignon with a few tendrils left out to create a softer look, a dash of shimmery lip gloss and mascara – no saggy old sweatpants and rumpled tee-shirt; no, not tonight.

His apartment block was a flurry of activity. The flashers of an EMS van and a police car lit up the surroundings. Some people were gathered beside the sidewalk observing the goings-on and discussing in hushed tones as a gurney was loaded into the ambulance.

The unidentified victim was covered from head to toe in a white sheet. My ears strained above the din, to hear the sound of music, but the night was still; it was filled with all other sounds except that thrumming that I had grown to love.

I walked across the pavement, studying the faces as I approached, but none possessed the dark piercing eyes which had stared into mine three nights ago.

What happened? I asked one of the ladies out of curiosity. She turned to look at me with a face that looked pinched and eyes filled with despair.

A young man killed himself, she said. I don’t know him very well, but we have shared the lift occasionally and he was always very polite. It’s not so long ago that he moved in here, she continued.

A young man? I repeated. Which apartment? I asked in quiet fear.

502. She replied – pointing up to that window that I had gazed at intensely for the past few weeks.

I stayed up at night to listen to him play. His music touched me, she said. Sometimes, he played till the early hours of the morning. I wonder what was wrong? Why did he not seek help? She asked rhetorically.

He seemed like a beautiful soul. What a waste of human life! She intoned.They said he took poison and called 911.

A buzz was rushing in my head and her voice voiced wobbly in my ears as if it came from afar through a bull horn.

My heart was screaming its pain into my head. This was not how I envisaged it to end. My love affair had been nipped in the bud before its first blossom.

Tonight, I had felt sure that at last, he would invite me into his warm apartment for a cup of hot chocolate. He would play, I would listen and we would get to know each other.

I mumbled incomprehensibly to the lady; looked up at the apartment window for several minutes and with heavy laden feet, I walked into the night.

The wind had picked up, lifting dead, fallen leaves into the air.

Through the whistling of the swaying pines, I  could hear his melody carrying through the night, through my heart and buried in my soul.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


Spring Burst…

With all the troublesome things jumping and nipping at your heels and begging for attention,

When was the last time you unveiled your inner mind to the splendor of nature that surrounds you wherever you are?

Achieving such feat of inner peace may seem far fetched with the constant deluge of horrendous happenings occurring at such rapid pace.

Its almost impossible to keep up and it seems to have our heads spinning in an unending tizzy.

Today has been one of those days. Between the constant alert of anticipated flash flood in neighboring counties and watching the mangled bits and pieces of the derailed Amtrak train; the faces of loss, pain and grief; I had to pause to ask myself..

If this were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am doing now?

What matters most in my life?

Am I holding on to somethings that I should let go of right now?

What am I doing about those things that matter most in my life?

Thus continued the nagging questions in my mind, with no immediate answers at hand.

I mute the television, I take a peek out of the window, I lace up my dirty sneakers and I walk to my favorite park.

The weather is mild and airy. The Earth still wet from the sprinkles of rain shower, which clung to plant leaves and flower petals like a lover reluctant to let go.

Taking those springy steps and inhaling deeply of the fresh earthy smell which is given off by the rain, I try to reconnect with the inner me. I think its a time just to be.

The park maintenance staff are quite engaged, replanting, mowing the grass, pruning and trimming the overgrown shrubbery.

The beautiful arrays of blooming flowers are indeed a good sight to cheer up a dampened spirit.

The fragrant mixed blend of fresh cut shrubs, of flowers and turned wet soil assailed my nostrils in a very pleasant manner.

I chat randomly with one of the workers, asking some questions about the plants. He was very willing to part with his knowledge at a little cost of a simple hello.

I decided there and then to try my hands at gardening. Who knows? I might turn out to have green fingers. Besides, I hear that there is something refreshing about nurturing a plant and seeing it grow.

I see the cautious old lady and her little dog. She offered a smile as we cross each other on the second turn across the park.

I take note of the much older gentleman who slowly sprints past me; I must be as slow as a slug,

I watch the squirrels darting back and forth in careless abandon,

I observe firsthand a bird fighting a poor squiggly earthworm to the finish,

I listen briefly as I pass a young mother pushing her little ones in a double buggy, she was humming a tune,

A sliver of sun breaks through the clouds, as I make my way back to the house,

Its a good day, I said to myself.

I am just happy to be.