Birch Trees

Birch trees outside the Home Office, London - © Jesús Montero

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Birch trees

Shed their thin white bark,

Like forgotten memories

Floating

In the morning air.

Visions projected

On the skin they peel,

Like a screen,

Through which, the light shines.

© Jesús Montero

Portobello Market

Pineapples from Costa Rica

And mangoes from Pakistan.

Fruits of culinary wisdom,

Brought together from worlds apart.

Strawberries from Huelva

And Goats cheese from Provence,

Dwell together rather gaily,

In the comfort of their stand.

Passion fruit from Uganda,

Juicy oranges from the mother land,

Basking merrily together,

Under the constant watch of the blessed sun.

Poem & photo © Jesús Montero

Pharaoh's call

Tim Perrin and Corinne Martin as Belzoni and Sarah Belzoni © Jesús Montero

It's impossible for me to pay a visit to the British Museum without feeling a compelling summoning call from the Egyptian Hall. A rather esoteric one at that.

It's a force that I seem incapable of controlling, no matter how many times I set my foot in the museum. It's all down to pharaoh Rameses II, the Italian explorer Giovanni Battista Belzoni and one particular filming project that made their paths and mine cross, rather unexpectedly, a few years ago.

I was then making a children’s drama for Channel 4 about the life of Belzoni, who in the 1800’s traveled with his Irish wife Sarah to Egypt on an extraordinary assignment.

He was commissioned to bring treasures from the world of ancient Egypt to London. A true Indiana Jones of the Victorian era.

Some of his findings, like the colossal head of Rameses II are on display for all of us to see at the British Museum.

Rameses II © Jesús Montero - Kind courtesy of the BM

Some other of his finds, rather luckily for us, wouldn’t fit on a boat and remained in Egypt for all of us to marvel at.

He discovered the tomb of Sethi I (father of Rameses II), found the great temple at Abu Simbel and the entrance to the second pyramid, that of pharaoh Chephren. He was indeed the first person in modern times who, torch in hand, set foot in the inner sanctum of such archaeological treasures. As I said, a true Indiana Jones.

He wrote a wonderful and colourful account of his adventures and discoveries in the land of the pharaohs BUT – and this could be the force that summons me to the Egyptian Hall each time I visit the British Museum – he did not receive, in my opinion, the credit he deserved or had himself wished for.

Tomb of Sethi I - © Jesús Montero

Even today, when you visit the Egyptian Hall at the British Museum his name is nowhere to be seen; in other words, someone else did get the credit for his incredible discoveries. Not him.

Through my research, I got to know Belzoni and his wife rather well – his wife Sarah was also an independent explorer who wrote a personal account of the women of Egypt, Nubia and Syria –. Whenever Belzoni had the chance to put pen to paper, he left behind his longing for recognition.

He was aware of the fact that he would probably not get the credit he deserved and this is, perhaps, the indescribable force I feel when I visit the Egyptian Hall.

There are a few. You do have to look for them, carefully, very carefully. Eventually you will find them. One of them is the most prominent to the naked eye.

Belzoni carved his very own name, in his very hand, in the black stone of a few of his findings - now on display at the British Museum. Did his desire for recognition guide his hand?

Perhaps his echo feeds the force that summons me to the Egyptian Hall and to this particular example of the treasures he found, inviting me to look down, carefully, very carefully and read, chiselled in the black stone: “BELZONI”.

There’s a grin on my face and I say to myself: “I know”.

© Jesús Montero - Kind courtesy of the BM

Il faut cultiver notre jardin.

We live on a planet of almost 7 billion of living humans.

That’s a big number. Then, on days like today, I often think about that number and the fact that sheer luck makes some of our paths cross in the form of true friendship.

A social club of a lucky few, in a world of billions.

There are days when we are reminded, days when we consider how fortunate we are to have met a particular friend. A postcard through the letterbox. An unexpected gift. A phone call. A simple chat over a cup of coffee.

Today is Tuesday and it so happens to be a very special day for thousands of people who live thousands, thousands of miles away. They are about to embark on period of celebrations and prayers lasting twelve consecutive days honouring the Lord Ganesh, remover of all obstacles. Whole families will gather at temple gates in communal acts of prayer.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no know-it-all, I am just lucky to have been lucky to have a friend, one in seven billion, who emailed me this morning to remind me of such celebrations and the fact that, I would be in their prayers.

It may sound silly but it makes you feel special, like a rainbow in the rain.

Text & photo © Jesús Montero

The hidden cracks of oblivion

Oh, dear, I'm a blogger,

Won't be the first and shan't be the last.

Where to start, how?

How should I call my blog?

Decisions, decisions...

I grab one of my poems and borrow one of the closing lines.

THE HIDDEN CRACKS OF OBLIVION.

Done.

Are you sitting comfortably? Let's begin...

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Time calls

For a Spring clean.

All bad moments

Frozen by the Winter air,

Laid out

In the open.

Bare.

Time calls

For a Spring clean.

Broom and bucket,

Out on a fair,

Not a second longer

To be spared.

Time calls

For a Spring clean.

One of those

That’s after those figments of the past

That did not find

The comfort of perdition.

Like

Bad memories that

Turned to dust.

Or stagnant whispers

That seep through

The hidden cracks of oblivion.

© Jesús Montero