Night of the Dragon for “Let’s Hit Rewind”

Dragon

 

photo with permission from Lachlan Gowen on Unsplash

Night of the Dragon

Behold the dragon, how it flows
from its tail up to its nose.
Thirty feet and thirty arms
move the dragon’s sinuous charms—
its razor teeth, its threatening frown—
through the streets of Chinatown.
On its head, a golden crown.
Its many humps move up and down,
forming valleys, growing hills
while moving over rocks and rills.
Straightening out to cross the bridges
spanning between neighboring ridges.
Never flying through the air,
rising only up the stair.
So many mortals make one beast,
one night a year to roil and feast
on errant spirits wandering out
their vile sentiments to flout,
chancing their ends once more to free
those rotten souls they used to be.
One night of all we form the back
that otherwise the dragons lack.
We form their arms and form their feet,
arousing awe in all we meet.
And thus it happens, once a year,
we become that which most we fear.

Reblog from 2019

“Nocturn” for Rewind

Nocturn

With half a life lived in the dark,
an owl’s hoot, an answering bark,
the moon across the water scattered,
ragged clouds, wispy and battered––

I float in night and solitude,
the night determining my mood.
I lie in darkness and I brood,
a momentary interlude.

When sunlight comes in fits and starts,
The day brings out my other parts.
They rise in me from dawn to noon,
dispelling powers of the moon.

Thus balanced between dark and light,
each half consumes its daily bite.
I welcome each within its time
Life varied, balanced and sublime.

This is a “Rewind” Blog from July 7 ten years ago.

This is what I was up to 10 years ago today!

Early Morning Profundity

At 4 a.m. this morning, my niece was calling out in her sleep again for almost an hour, so I grabbed my laptop from the floor beside the bed to record her comments. Then as I was about to fall asleep with my computer on my lap, I had an idea for a poem.  Without opening my eyes, I wrote it down before going back to sleep. Here it is, as I discovered it when I woke up this morning:

I’ve been axeoa rhw oxwN.

I’CW Ailws xeoaa rhw aw

ONLY RO SIAXOCWE

RHWEW IA NO PLxw doe mw

aILIF ON RHW VEINWY,

Ailinf on rhw qrwe.

InarwS I’M ARyinf ahoewaisw

wzXRLY QHWEW I OUFHR RWE.
My advice? Never write a poem in the middle of the night with your eyes closed.

I finally figured this out by putting my fingers on the correct keys and typing the gobbledygook, which came out close enough to the intended meaning for me to figure out the words. Here is what I meant to write:

I’ve been across the ocean,
sailed across the sea,
only to discover
there is no place for me
floating on the briny,
traversing the sea.
Instead I’m staying shoreside––
where I ought to be.

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/forbidden/

This entry was posted in Accidents and tagged  on  by Edit

Unknown's avatar

About lifelessons

My blog, which started out to be about overcoming grief, quickly grew into a blog about celebrating life. I post daily: poems, photographs, essays or stories. I’ve lived in countries all around the globe but have finally come to rest in Mexico, where I’ve lived since 2001. My books may be found on Amazon in Kindle and print format, my art in local Ajijic galleries. Hope to see you at my blog.

Post navigation

14 thoughts on “Early Morning Profundity”

    1. lifelessons's avatarlifelessonsPost author
      Ha.. Perhaps the garbled version is more interesting than the actual one printed above in comments.. or below. Unsure if these comments are posted chronologically or newest first.

      Like

      Reply ↓
    1. lifelessons's avatarlifelessonsPost author
      I’ve been across the ocean,
      sailed across the sea,
      only to discover
      there is no place for me
      floating on the briny,
      traversing the sea.
      Instead I’m staying shoreside––
      where I ought to be.I finally figured this out by putting my fingers on the correct keys and typing the gobbledygook, which came out close enough to the intended meaning for me to figure out the words.

      Liked by 3 people

      Reply ↓
      1. Christine Goodnough's avatarChristine Goodnough
        It’s bad for the first several days. Little warning and poor control — I have to be close by and move FAST. Which makes for special problems at night. Thankfully by the weekend control will be much better.

        Like

        Reply ↓

Leave a comment

“Debugged” for RDP

Can’t help it. Had to debug my picture files. The prompt made me do it!!!

The prompt for RDP today is “Debugged.”

Welcome to “The Numbers Game #131.” Come play along. Today’s number is 748.

To play along, go to your  photos file folder and type the number 748 into the search bar. Then post a selection of the photos you find that include that number and post a link to your blog in my Numbers Game blog of the day. If instead of numbers, you have changed the identifiers of all your photos into words, pick a word or words to use instead, and show us a variety of photos that contain that word in the titleThis prompt will repeat each Monday with a new number. If you want to play along, please put a link to your blog in comments below.

Here are my photos. Click on photos to enlarge and move on to next photo. Anxious to see yours!

 

 

 

To play along, go to your  photos file folder and type the number 748 into the search bar. Then post a selection of the photos you find that include that number and post a link to your blog in my Numbers Game blog of the day. If instead of numbers, you have changed the identifiers of all your photos into words, pick a word or words to use instead, and show us a variety of photos that contain that word in the titleThis prompt will repeat each Monday with a new number. If you want to play along, please put a link to your blog in comments below.

Here are my photos. Click on photos to enlarge and move on to next photo. Anxious to see yours!

 

Creature Discomforts, For Sunday Whirl Wordle 764

Yikes! is that a scorpion? Actually, this is a bottle of mescal my student Eduardo gave me last year for my birthday. Inside were three giant scorpions and a coral snake. So far everyone who has visited me has given it a miss, as have I. It is rumored that a sip of it will bolster a man’s virility.

Creature Discomforts

Lest you suffer a hot foot in the darkness of the night
as you journey to the bathroom and feel a sting or bite,
best slip into your shoes first before you journey there
lest a scorpion or spider gives a wound that you can’t bear.

Then in the brightness of the day, out in the prairie grass,
God grant that you’re not bitten in the ankle or the ass
by a coral snake who wounds you and is off, then, in a shot,
leaving you with ashen face, intestines in a knot.

Wishing you were dead,  perhaps, instead of in such pain
that you vow that you will never walk in waist-high grass again
lest it lead to the resurgence of encounters with that snake
who surely you could fight off with a pistol or a rake

Better that you face it in bottle of mescal
than bushwhacking through the grasslands or walking down the hall.
if only you had seen it, but now that subject’s moot.
If you ever walk this way again, you’ll bring a gun–and shoot!

The words for Sunday Whirl this week are: shot foot dark bright prairie grass hot ash dead resurgence fight god

 

“Beam” for RDP Saturday

” Beaming”–The Boy in the Blue Feathered Mask

When I saw the prompt “Beam,” I immediately thought of this post from 2015, thinking of the face posted later in this post. Was the word “beam” used in the post? Indeed, it was, and so I’m posting it again, not because I’m lazy, even though that might be true, but because it is one of my favorite posts from those years when friends and I did the two-week long Camp Estrella for children in the town I live in, San Juan Cosala, Jalisco, Mexico. The girl featured in this post alongside the “beamer” is now not only married with children of her own, but she is my English student and friend.whose wedding I featured in a blog a while ago. Time flies, but thank goodness for both beams of memory and for these prompts which bring past wonderful memories back to our minds.

 I’m choosing an alternate prompt today–to talk about my most unconventional love affair.  I’m fairly sure I’ve written about this prompt before, but this time I’m talking about another unconventional love affair–my love affair with Mexico. Hopefully you’ll know why after you read it.

The Boy in the Blue Feathered Mask

I was so busy issuing art supplies, that when the masks were set out to dry, I had no idea whose was whose.  Other Camp Estrella counselors were helping at each table and requests for paint colors were coming fast and furious.  Who knew so many boys would want to be grey foxes?  A lot of white and black got mixed. A lot of red and pink to make a deeper rose.

IMG_1973Then, feathers flew and concrete became polka-dotted with sequins in every shape from polka dots to half moons and leaping reindeer.  Day after day, layers added until it was impossible to tell roosters from foxes from bears from falcons from rabbits.
IMG_1981IMG_2168
But when I saw the remarkable turquoise feathered mask with the jeweled beak, I tried to imagine which of the graceful young girls had conceived of it.  When I collected it from the tarp set in the sun and sat it under cover with the others for the night, I knew I wanted to be sure to capture her picture tomorrow before my day became consumed with other tasks.

The next day, the members of the camp surrounded the tables and piano where we had set the masks away from the night rain and winds of the rainy season.  Some asked for more sequins, feathers, beads, paint, glue, glitter gel.  Others wanted their headbands attached and wore the masks, as is, all day long–swooping between the fruit trees of the open courtyard and over the open spaces where the dance routines were practiced. They sat during language lessons and singing practice with beaks and ears and wattles  and plumes.

IMG_2221 IMG_1942 Version 2 IMG_2215IMG_2208

And then I saw the boy in the turquoise feathered mask!

IMG_1982

IMG_1959He didn’t seem to mind that his friends behind him were getting a large charge out of his mask.
He wore it almost constantly, once I’d fastened the strap to it.  And then one morning, he caught me by the arm and asked me to take his picture.  With his other hand, he caught the hand of a girl who walked by. She was one of the taller girls, rather shy, as you can see from this photo snapped the first day of camp:

DSCN2375
“Take our picture!” he asked politely, and although at first she pulled away, she didn’t resist much, and neither did I.

IMG_1984Brave young man.  He not only ooks pleased.  He is actually beaming! Brave young woman. Looks placid and mature.  In the flamenco dance lessons, she alone looks almost as poised as her instructor.  She is the niece of my housekeeper, and although I’d never met her, her aunt pressed me to see that she was included and it was a special request of mine that she be added to the camp roster. Now, in the 4th day of camp, I am so glad I did.

There’s a reason why feather boy looks so pleased. She is talented in everything she does, graceful and kind, and I’m told by the other counselors that the other girls look up to her.  Although innocent, and in spite of a few flirty looks from girls toward boys, this is the only case of pairing up (short as it was) between the 11 through 14-year-olds in the camp.

When I mentioned the picture later on, he seemed puzzled, and then when I reminded him, he beamed again. In the two days since then, I’ve seen other boys watching her closely in the dance or at her table as she carefully pens thank you cards to camp sponsors. But no one else got his picture taken with her, and I noticed her shyness melt away rather quickly afterwards.

So many pleasures in this camp. Watching child after child mature and blossom was the greatest one.  More stories if you want to hear them.  Telling them assures me they won’t be forgotten.

See other Camp Estrella stories HERE and HERE.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/unconventional-love/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/the-perfect-game/

The RDP Saturday prompt is:Beam.

Empty Nest for FOWC

Empty Nest

I’ve been missing
that half-grown kissing
that lasts a minute
with chocolate in it.
Runny noses.
Heads of roses
picked off stems
like rarest gems
presented in
a tuna tin.
Priceless treasure
for my pleasure.

My life lacks
these loving smacks––
even a quickie,
albeit sticky
with peanut butter.
A parting stutter,
and then they’re gone
and off upon
contrivences new,
away from you,
taking their kisses
to other misses.

For Fandango’s FOWC the prompt is “Contrived.”

 

 

 

Spinning Top, for today’s Throwback Edition

Spinning Top

Is senility a resurrected prenatal state—
hearing the outer world
with limited stages of connection?
Or is it a journey backwards through a lifetime,
remembering details pushed into
the closets of the mind by daily tasks?

The hum of a life is deafening in this world.
Even with earbuds or headsets,
the noise of the world streams in,
wired direct into our consciousness,
quelling thoughts of our own,
wiping clean for the time being,
memories.

The whole world with us every minute
leads to no world of our own.
Barraged our entire lives,
more now than ever,
does senility offer a time before our death
to connect with our inner selves once more?

Relieved of the world,
do we spin like a top into that inner world,
remembering a lifetime lost to activity—
the resurrected adolescence of old age
evolving backwards into a dreaming time
wherein we joyfully wander ourselves again?

Some choose the rope, fearing a nightmare of senility,
yet some of us hope for a return to dreams of childhood,
relieved of all care, even for ourselves.
No one comes back to tell us which it is,
yet some of us?
We hope.
We hope.

( First published on July 4, 2018)

Famous Scribes, for Fibbing Friday

The Assignment for Fibbing Friday today is: Below are 10 titles and authors, all of which are fictitious.  This week I’m asking you to do a cover blurb in a few sentences or perhaps have an idea for a sequel.

1. The Missing Tent by Seymour Skye: An expose of why touring circuses are a thing of the past.

2. Making the Most of Bread by Roland Pickles: A misprint of the actual book Making the Host of Bread, which is a guide for the preparation of Protestant holy communion.

3. Living on a Budget by M T Wallit: The author’s name is a pseudonym. This is actually the title of a tongue-in-cheek book by Donald Trump.

4. Wake me at Dawn by Misty Mawning: A book ghost-written by someone pretending to be the corpse at a funeral Wake. 

5. Sing me a Lullaby by Muse Ickles:  Advice for a new mother, written as though reading the mind of a screaming baby at 3 A.M.

6. Caught in the Act by Robin Banks: Pseudonym for the real author, Donald Trump, who will as usual escape unprosecuted and unpunished.

7. The Pensioner Chronicles by Jerry Attrick: Biography of Leonardo da Vinci, so named because  Leonardo’s journals contain drawings with cross-sections of what appears to be a reservoir pen that works by both gravity and capillary action. 

8. The Scapegoat’s Revenge by Carrie deCan: Leon Trotsky’s pseudonym for his autobiography that revealed Stalin’s vile scheme to blame him for soviet economic failures and military disasters,

9. Fields of Destiny by Krystal Ball: Biography of popular twenty-first century  singing group “Destiny’s Child.”

10. The Long and the Short of It by Cyn Opsiss. Again, a pseudonym used for a sex guide written by Donald Trump. Only half fiction.