Wednesday, September 29, 2021
Tuesday, September 28, 2021
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
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?
Monday, September 27, 2021
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
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!
Requires time and stamina
No more quick pick-ups
Sunday, September 26, 2021
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.
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?
Wednesday, September 22, 2021
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
Tuesday, September 21, 2021
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.
Monday, September 20, 2021
QUADRILLE #136 Linda asks that we use the word "linger" in our 44 word quadrille. Submitted to dVerse, September 20, 2021
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
Sunday, September 19, 2021
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.
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
Saturday, September 18, 2021
Wednesday, September 15, 2021
WEEKLY SCRIBBLINGS and we’re going to the fair! Submitted to Poets and Storytellers United, September 15, 2021
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.
Tuesday, September 14, 2021
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
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!.
Writers’ Pantry #86 Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United September 14, 2021
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……
Monday, September 13, 2021
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
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.
Wednesday, September 8, 2021
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
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.
Monday, September 6, 2021
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.
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
Sunday, September 5, 2021
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
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.
Saturday, September 4, 2021
THE SUNDAY MUSE #176
Thursday, September 2, 2021
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
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
Isn’t it miraculous how
love blooms in Autumn
in the city?
Wednesday, September 1, 2021
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
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