REALLY?

WEEKLY SCRIBBLINGS #89  Rosemary asks us to consider realism.  I offer a series of vignettes that might be called maverick limericks in that they are a line short and have a different rhyming scheme.  The first indulges in realism, the next three consider the realist.  Submitted to Poets and Storytellers United, September 29, 2021

There once was a dog named Sport

Daily he walked with Sam

When asked who’s in charge

The dog would answer “I am!”

        ***

There once was a girl named Rosie

A pragmatic realist, cute and hip

“Nay, I’m a realistic pragmatist“, said Rosie

“I practice shooting from the lip.”

***

There once was a fellow named Nate

Who practiced the art of realism

Nate always had just one answer

With no possibility of schism.

***

There once was a fellow named Arthur

Practicing realism with a rowdy shout

His answer was sure to be loud and blunt

With him there was never a doubt.

LADY MOONGLOW

 It's Tuesday Poetics, and Lillian has given us a site that lists the #1 hits in the year of our birth, and challenges us to use that title in our poem.  I'm not sure whether to be insulted, to weep or laugh.  I am apparently so old the calendar at the site begins in l940 when I was 6 years old!  I had to look elsewhere to discover #1 in my birth year was "Moon Glow" by.Benny Goodman.  But along the way I wondered why we consider the moon to be masculine.  Submitted to dVerse, 9/20/21

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Why do we say man in the moon

Why not lady of midnight

Could the moon cast her moonglow

On objects below 

Could she send her magic moonlight

Moonbeaming lovers in the dark

Who says that's not right

Being the queen of romance

and star-studded dance

Could we just for once say

The lady shines tonight? 

GROCERY MIGRAINE

Haibun/Haiku and Frank asks us to overcome writers' block for our haibun this early autumn day.  Having made a quick (?) stop at the grocery, I had no trouble with block at all!  Submitted to dVerse 9/27/21

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                                      GROCER MIGRAINE

In the Stone Age, when I was a child, the grocer in our little town had shelves stocked with everything from crackers to bag balm.  It was a folksy little place where the local farmers gathered to visit a bit before going home to do the chores, and kids could get a towering ice cream cone for a dime.  I was thinking of it this week while bumbling about my ex-favorite grocery trying to find the items on my list.  The store is being converted to one of those mega-nightmares where I need a golf cart to get from produce to paper products.  Nothing is where it used to be, and the layout, I’m sure, was created by a demented chimp on speed.  A pound of coffee used to be 16 ounces, and picking up a box of crackers used to be a simple thing once upon a long ago.  Now crackers gives me a headache.  Low fat or no fat?  Extra thin and crispy?  Do I want regular, salt-free or low salt, cheddar flavor, ranch or barbeque, baked or traditional?  It’s enough to leave hapless shoppers in a corner in the fetal position.   My friends and I are in our senior years.  We wear out quickly.  We have decided to lobby for a first-aid station somewhre mid--store!

Grocer marathon

Requires time and stamina

No more quick pick-ups

WHAT'S UP?

 Writer's Pantrv #89, and I've indulged in a bit of word play.  Heaven knows the English language provides enough fodder for the mill when it comes to word play.  Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United,  September 26, 2021.

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                WHAT'S UP?

The English language has lots of idiosyncrasies,

 not the least of which is  the little word up.  

Attempting to explain it to someone learning 

English is a lesson in frustration.  Give up, 

for example, is to concede, hold up is to rob;

and a tossup is equally divided.  While makeup 

 means cosmetics applied to one’s face, to make up 

is to mend a  fractured relationship.  Put up 

implies to restore to proper place; but undesired 

people are someone you won’t put up with.  

To begin is to start up, but an impertinent 

person is an upstart.  A person over-impressed 

with themselves is said to be stuck up (or uppity), but to 

rob at gunpoint is a stickup. There are numerous

more uses,  but it’s best to simply avoid  the word 

up when helping someone learn English,  It just 

leaves them...you guessed it...all mixed up.  It’s no 

surprise a common greeting is WHAT’S UP?

DAYS GONE BY

MUSE #179

 

AUTUMN DAYS

 WEEKLY SCRIBBLINGS   Autumnal Equinox, and Magaly has given us a choice of phrases to include in our poem.  I've chosen "I see you". Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United, 9/22/21

Autumn enters on sodden feet--

the kind of rain that leaves us

searching for a fleece jacket

and thinking of bonfires

The last roses of summer bloom

bright and stubborn,

rebuffing the chill distraction, 

the burning bushes have yet

to don their coats of scarlet 

and the hills are still green.

 

refusing to bow to the

first days of autumn.  Here 

in my world we anticipate

those golden days we call

Indian summer, when the

scarecrows say “I see you”, and

gorgeous fall displays appear 

everywhere--pumpkins, gourds, 

chrysanthemums, straw bales

and joy---and  we know at last

autumn has truly arrived.

APPLE ORCHARD DAY

 POETICS TUESDAY.  Mish's challenge has us considering the marvelous fruits of autumn.  Autumn trips to the apple orchard were part of my childhood.  Submited to dVerse 9/21/2021.

                                                It was autumn tradition -- apple orchard day!

                                                A country drive down sun kissed roads,

                                                painted leaves skittering across the road,

                                                the sky a clear and cloudless cobalt blue.

                                                At last, the familiar apple barn!

                                                Savoring its heady. sweet smell

                                                we’re offered cups of spiced cider

                                                while mother chooses her familiar

                                                --red delicious, jonathans, 

                                                  Grimes goldens--every year exactly

                                                 4 1/2 bushels--we eye the caramel

                                                 apples that will be take-home treats..

                                                 With a trunk full of apples, off we go.

                                                munching our crisp, juicy apples.

                                                 Within two weeks, the shelves in

                                                Mother’s larder are lined with

                                                sparkling jars of apple butter, apple sauce,

                                                apple jelly, and sliced apples for pies; 

                                                the rest in cool storage bins for school day

                                                snacks and the winter traditional Sunday 

                                                supper of popcorn and crisp apples.

                                                Another year, another apple orchard day.

                                                Ah, bliss!.

MEMORY LINGERS

 QUADRILLE  #136   Linda asks that we use the word "linger" in our 44 word quadrille.  Submitted to dVerse, September 20, 2021

MEMORY LINGERS  

Gone so many years

yet your memory lingers

sometimes I feel your touch

hear your voice

smell your after shave

remember thoughts shared

and plans made

gentle loving nights

and for a moment,

just for a fleeting moment,

I don't feel alone

COUNTRY SUMMER

 Writers' Pantry #87  Summer is winding down in my world.  I've written an homage to country summers as I recall them.  I really think they haven't changed a good deal over the years!  Submitted to Poets & Stoytellers United, September 19, 2021.

COUNTRY SUMMER

                                                            Unforgiving heat and humidity

                                                            steals your breath and

                                                            leaves you without energy

                                                            like an inert dryad 

                                                            clinging to an autumn leaf

                                                            Ears hang heavy on the cornstalks

                                                            tomatoes, plump and red in the garden

                                                            magenta grapes cluster on the vine

                                                            pumpkins destined for jack-o-lanterns

                                                            dot fields awaiting hopeful children.

                                                             Cattle group under shade trees

                                                            or stand in streams for relief

                                                            birds begin to gather for migration

                                                            in obsidian rows on phone lines, or

                                                            flying in undulating formations

                                                            Farmers prepare for harvest

                                                            their tractors join country traffic

                                                            and roads become a parade

                                                            in familiar processions accepted

                                                             by summer travelers

                                                            Thunderstorms and lightning

                                                            make way for picnics and watermelon

                                                            county fairs and festivals

                                                            family reunions and church suppers

                                                            It’s summer in the country

NOWHERE MAN

The Sunday Muse #178

NOWHERE MAN

a dreamer

 a schemer

a nowhere man

drifting onward

without a plan

waiting opportunity

to knock at his door

or a surrogate mommy

himself to adore

a dirth of ambition

a dab of debonair

headed for nowhere

ladies beware!

THE MIDWAY

 WEEKLY SCRIBBLINGS  and we’re going to the fair! Submitted to Poets and Storytellers United, September 15, 2021

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THE MIDWAY

The magic of the midway

Never seems to fade

A stroll down the midway is

The stuff of which memories are made

The rinky tink music of the tilt-a-whirl

The lights of the ferris wheel

The hawkers at the game tents

Shouting “Let’s make a deal”

The mystery of the side show

And what might lie therein

Pretty painted dancing girls,

Bearded ladies and tattooed men

The smell of the diesel engines

Blended with hot oil for elephant ears

The sounds of all the motors

And the shifting of their gears

The fortune teller’s fancy tent

Knowing you’d have to pay

For her to tell your future

And what else she had to say

There’s really nothing like it

And I’ve searched everywhere

No place captures the magic

Like a summer day at the fair.  

MOTHMAN

 Creepies and Crawlies are the topic at Tuesday Poetics/  I recall the legend of the moth-become-man who terrorized the residents of Point Pleasant, West Virginia.  Submitted to dVerse, September 14, 2021

MOTHMAN

They call me Mothman in Point Pleasant.

West Virginia.  Sighted by many and widely

reported, the residents feared me for my 

glowing red eyes and ten foot wing span, 

though I walked upright.  Many times I was

sighted over the span of a year, but no one

was ever harmed.   My fame was such that

a movie was made starring Richard Gere,

If you doubt my word, just talk with someone

who lived in Point Pleasant in 1966!.

BOOKSHELVES

Writers’ Pantry #86        Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United September 14, 2021

          BOOKSHELVES

Bookshelves … I must have bookshelves

in my new office space

for things that are important to me

…the flower pot painted and signed

by my grandchildren,

…the crock with the name of my

home town misspelled

because my niece knew it 

would drive me crazy

…the character I created dressed

in pieces from a band uniform

and dubbed Pope Midas Claus

because he has a touch of all three

 …a poem on easel by a friend

titled “November Rain” because

ii spoke to me

…a country church scene I painted

on glass many years ago

…a plate my granddaughter painted

…art creations by my daughter 

…an homage of theater productions

in which my daughter had a part

…three carved knights I call

my three wise men

…three monks in prayer from an

antique trip long ago

…art journals covering my exploits

for the past 30 plus years

…assorted word gifts from friends

…notebooks filled with many essays

written through the years

…..and books, I must have books

on my shelves……

UNITED WE STAND

It’s Prosery Monday, and Ingrid has challenged us to write prosery using these words of William blake..“If all do their duty they need not fear harm”  Having just remembered the attack of 9/11 twenty years ago, and considering the divided nation we’ve become,  these words seemed timely. My heart is with my homeland.  

Submitted to dVerse, September 13, 2021

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Watching the 9/11 news commemorative specials it seemed to be a different America.  Under attack, we came together as one, proudly waving flags and everyone doing what they could to contribute to the nation’s healing.  Today, we are attacked from within, the intent as malevolent and destructive as the planes that flew into the towers.  Four years of misinformation, and leadership encouraging subversive groups and anti-government militia, fanning the flames of discontent and racial strife, have resulted in a nation divided.  I’m reminded of the phrase “United we stand, divided we fall!”  May the united America of post 9/11 rise again! .If all do their duty they need not fear harm, and together restore the nation’s pride and faith in the UNITED States of America.

THE COVERLET

 WEEKLY SCRIBBLINGS #86  

Rosemary has asked us to choose a journal entry and write a poem or prose about it.  This took me to a journal from 2010,  and the story of  a family keepsake.  Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United, September 8, 2021

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THE COVERLET

My bookshelves contain over 30 journals that recount the days of my time here on earth. I  randomly selected a journal page from a 2010 journal , marking a special moment I’m happy I recorded.  My 90 plus year old aunt had given me a treasured blue and white woolen coverlet and its story is one to be  remembered.  She lovingly stroked it as she told me her grandmother spun the wool from sheep on their farm, dyed it and wove it on her loom.  Loving stored away from one generation to the next, it’s now passed to me some 150 years after it was woven.  I am honored to care for this treasured bit of family history until it’s time for me to pass it on to my daughter.  A journal is a fine thing.  But for the journal entry, the story of the coverlet might be lost.  

GROOVIN' ALONG

 Quadrille #135, and the word is "groove"....in exactly 44 words.  These days when I get my groove on its with a walker, a cane and my orthopedic wedgies, but I'll give it a try.!   Submitted to dVerse,  9/6/21.

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GROOVIN' ALONG

I’ve longed to be groovy

A little gucci and hep

Cool, suave, and debonair

Happily getting my groove on

      Being a lovable kind of chick      

Then confusion overcomes me

I thought I understood

I’m practicing tongue in groove

      But it doesn’t make me popular     

IDIOMETRY

  Writers' Pantry #86.   Idioms are a dime a dozen, and they’re such fun to string together in story form.  The result is this idiomatic love story, submitted to Poets & Storytellers United, September 3, 2021

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AN IDIOMATIC LOVE STORY

Once upon a time it was raining cats and dogs, the kind of flood when pigs fly.  Baa baa black sheep heard the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, so he burned his bridges and poured oil on troubled waters, being sure not to  miss the boat,  There was no time to beat around the bush, if he planned to meet the apple of his eye.  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and she was, after all, built like a brick outhouse.  Alas he learned you can’t judge a book by its cover, and she wasn’t all she was cracked up to be. He bid her farewell and rode off on the elephant in the room,. There were lots of fishes in the sea, he thought, and soon he found the woman of his dreams.  He knew they would hit the sack, make sweet music together, and live happily ever after.  Where?  Well your guess is as good as mine.  

*********** 

 

LAS VEGAS

 THE SUNDAY MUSE #176

Bogged down in  dubiosity

Loaded with curiosity

Looking for a change of pace

Set your sights on tinsel town

That’s where it all goes down

A sampling of the human race

You’ll find …..

Haves and have nots

Putting quarters in the slots

High rollers and risk takers

Looking for deal makers

Lipstick and stilettos 

Escaped from the ghettos

Sightseeing farmers

Soul-seeking charmers

Jaded entertainers

Star-spangled gamers

Moustachioed sinners 

and clever tale-spinners

all looking for an easy mark

We’ll set our sights on Vegas

whichever way will take us

Surely they’ll all be there.

THE WINDOW

 Open Link #299. "Blessed are those who see beautiful things in humble places"  This poem is condensed from a short story I wrote for a writing group.  You'll have to fill in the spaces!  Submitted to dVerse September 2, 2021

THE WINDOW

    A drab building sat at the corner

                                                            of 10th and Dover, its

                                                            once colorful façade 

                                                            faded to a graffiti-marred

                                                            dirty mustard, its windows 

                                                            dingy and gray…EXCEPT

                                                            the second floor window

                                                            second from right. It appeared

                                                            sparkling clear, and a vase

                                                            sat in its center with a single

                                                            red flower.  He imagined a

                                                            lovely girl lived there, and

                                                            he came to think of her as 

                                                             his red flower girl.  

                                                            Autumn came to 10th and Dover

                                                            and one evening on his way

                                                            home from the bus stop he

                                                            saw a beautiful girl enter the

                                                            drab building. He watched

                                                            until a light appeared in the 

                                                             window.  It was his red flower

                                                             girl! 

                                                             Isn’t it miraculous how 

                                                            love blooms in Autumn

                                                             in the city?

COUNT BLESSINGS

 Weekly Scribbling #85.  We're given this quote as food for thought: "Take care of your body, it’s the only place you have to live in.  Most of us no doubt wish we'd started earlier!  Submitted to Poets and Storytellers United, September 1, 2021

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COUNT BLESSINGS

Exercise.  Nutrition.  Words to live by so easily ignored in the fast pace of life today.  I confess to smoking for over 50 years before I got enough smarts to quit. How I rue the decision to start smoking, but when I was a teen it was the cool and adult thing to do.  I’m reminded of the words of my dentist when he told me I’d have to have a tooth extracted and I had reminded  him he’d promised me I’d go to my grave with my own teeth. “Yes”, he responded, “but I didn’t know you were going to live so long”! 

Exercise now is limited to a few walks from my computer to the bathroom and back.  Nutrition is limited to what I can chew comfortably with the few teeth I have left.  Oh (sigh) my dentist and I are both surprised that this old body has served me well for all these 87 years. Thankfully, I still have my wits about me.  I count blessings daily. 

Older now, smarter

wishing I had been

a smarter starter