Purple Passion: Flower of the Day, Feb 25, 2018

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I admit.  This is a made-up name.  I have no idea what flower this is. It was photographed in a streetside stall on Valentines Day in La Manzanilla, Mexico.  That’s all the clues I have to give.

For Cee’s Flower Prompt

A Sandy Congregation

I love what congregates around the sea.—not the open sea. Rather, where it meets the land. (Photos will enlarge when you click on them.)

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love sand and the things it collects: seashells, jellyfish, sand dollars, starfish, puff fish, sand pipers, sea turtles and even the people who collect at the beach.  It is like they have retreated as far as possible–the next step is either a boat or drowning!  They tend to be individuals, slightly odd–kind of like the people from the western world who congregate in third world locales like Africa.  Perhaps they are this age’s pioneers or trappers.

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Oh yes.  I do love the oceanside, the beach.  Salt. Sand.  I love what collects above the beach as well: frigate birds and pelicans, ibises, sun, moon, clouds.  Above are some of the thousands of images of the beach I’ve collected over the past ten years or so.

I would have to say that my muse is the sea–but not the open sea. Rather, where it meets the land.

 

I admit, this is a reblog of photos from three years ago. The prompt word today was congregate.

Mismatched

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Mismatched

You seem to dwell, dear, in the main
securely down in the inane.
If only you could just refrain
from loudly voicing your disdain.
Astrology you find a pain,
consider ESP insane,
while astral travel is the bane
of your existence and you’re fain
to scratch your head and shake your mane,
swearing you’ll open a vein
if I don’t try to put a rein
on my attempts to reach you where
you constantly refuse to fare.
Meditation’s out with you,
and you’ll have nothing to do
with Ouija boards or the I Ching.
You do not “Ohm” or chant or sing
to anyone or anything.
In short, you’re firmly planted here
on the earth, so dour and drear.
While my mind dwells in the stars,
yours hangs out in lowlife bars.
This love match has not scored a win.

Match.Com has erred again.
And so, my dear, ta-ta, adieu.
I guess I’m breaking up with you.
I fear that I have tried in vain
to find you on the astral plane.

The prompt today is astral.

Market Day

 

Market Day

This day, alas, has dawned so hot
I’ve no need to be where I’m not.
I want to spend it where I can
be exposed to ice and fan.
Though I’m in need of countless things:
foodstuffs, videos and rings,
a hairbrush, pens and other stuff,
I do not need them near enough
to venture out into this heat.
I’ll sit here in the catbird seat
at least until the sun goes down,
then venture out into the town.