Fruitless Efforts

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Fruitless Efforts

I know what they say because I’ve heard the buzz.
My profile, alas, is not what it was.
But the fact that some parts of me have required
more helpful support as they have retired

does not negate the simple true fact
that all my former charms are intact.
They shifted location against my behest. 
My breasts have moved south, my hips east and west,

and my upper arms have chosen to rest
in regions below where they’ve deemed that it’s best
to hang in their hammocks without so much tension
as when they were forced to remain at attention.

Some women thirst for their trim bods of yore,
but frankly, I find their efforts a bore.
Whether they seek them by suction or scalpel,
by fairy wand, prayer or by decree Papal,

Iit doesn’t seem worth it for when they get fit,
what are they going to accomplish by it?
For though they are going to look mighty fine,
what lovers are left by the age 89?

 

Prompt words are tired, wand, thirst, negate and profile.

I finished this poem at 11:34 am and need to be in town by noon, so I’m leaving it to Forgottenman to find an illustration for this poem. If it isn’t appropriate, blame him!!!

Tall Girl (Yellow Hibiscus) FOTD May 14, 2021

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Click on flowers to enlarge.

This hibiscus is one of the newest that I planted about a year ago. For some reason, it grew on a single stalk that grew so long that the flower is far over my head The first front-on photo  I could take only by reaching up and bending the stalk over so I could photograph it. That’s my arm you see down below that looks like a stalk.  For the others, I had to hold the camera over my head.

See Cee’s idyllic shot of lupines HERE.

I’ve Been and I Am

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I’ve Been and I Am

In earlier days, I’ve been cursed and rehearsed.
Been nursed for my fevers, relieved of my thirst.
Dialed and aisled, exiled  and trialed.
Filed and riled and even profiled.

I grew tired, retired, and my interest was fired
to try moving off to a place I’d admired.
Fate guided my steps, waved her magical wand
and found me a house by a beautiful pond,

Surrounded by greenery both flower and frond,
 I’ve probably formed my ultimate bond.
What we were we still are, for that is our core,
but if we have courage, we can be still more.

Life isn’t over when we’re retired.
We may be at rest but we needn’t be mired.
The flame of our life has not yet expired.
No circuit’s so old that it can’t be rewired!

Prompt words are tired, wand, thirst, negate and profile.

Bonus View

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Bonus View

The sun was at its zenith and although I ventured bare
out to my jacuzzi, I had no intent to share
a peep show with my neighbors, for tall bushes masked the view
from their high terrace to my bedroom, and my hot tub, too.

I’d forgotten that leaf cutter ants had lately been to dine
upon the hedge between us, depleting leaf and vine.
So when birds perch upon it, they’re exposed from tail to plume.
I can see them from the terrace and see them from my room

as they feed upon the flowers against a bright blue sky,
exposed there as they lately are to every human eye.
In addition, I’d been duly warned by  neighbors recently
that since the ants had visited, they can’t help viewing me

as I go about life’s duties on my terrace, in my yard,
and if my drapes are open, they had found that it was hard
to deflect their eyes from bedroom views. I’d been duly alerted
that if our mutual embarrassment was to be averted

that I should be more careful until our hedge filled out
lest I inadvertently forget and walk about
in fewer clothes than usual or pursued private actions
not intended to be shared for neighborly reactions.

So when I left the hot tub seeking to slake my thirst
and headed for the kitchen, I, too, witnessed the worst.
Through bare branches, void of leaf, male neighbors stood askance
viewing me against their will as I took the chance

naked as a jaybird, to scurry to the house
devoid of any raiment—swimsuit, pants or blouse.
Now this might have been exciting when there was less to see
in my earlier years, preceding seventy-three,

but I fear the scene they viewed was more a shock than titillating.
Certainly not the scene that they had been anticipating
as they strolled out with their guests for a visual interlude.
I’m sure they’d no intent to view their neighbor nude!

Prompt words today are plume, zenith, thirst, duly and share.

Humble Up to a Point

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Humble Up to a Point

I’m not noted for my moxie. Not famous for my wit.
When I tell a joke, I rarely get away with it.
My asides are not whimsical. They’re lacking in their zest.
The laughter they occasion is optional, at best.
When they hold a contest in delivering a line,
I promise you the loving cup never will be mine.
And though it would be wonderful to be life of the party,
I’ll have to make do with being brilliantly arty!

 

Prompt words are contest, whimsical, optional, moxie and wonderful. (Amazing that three of the five prompts, all taken from different sites, actually rhyme with each other! ) What are the chances?

Some Thoughts Upon Viewing a Blue-Footed Booby

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Some Thoughts Upon Viewing a Blue-Footed Booby

A chameleon can change his color by cue,
but what’s a blue-footed booby to do?
You can’t take off a foot like you’d take off a shoe.
And when blue is the only color you view
as you walk down the beach for a mile or two,
you might fancy a color a little bit new.
Yet, step after step, his feet remain blue!
It’s the color of ink and the color of goo—
a color that any mom would eschew
if she had a choice and a chance to imbue
her fledgling’s feet with a more subtle hue.
Instead, they’re this color that both of them rue.
Amazing to witness and lovely to view,
but admit it! You wouldn’t want blue feet, would you?

 

For dVerse Poets “Blue Tuesday” poem

Reunion

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Reunion

We perambulate the meadow, our eyes drinking their fill,
our memories straying farther up over yonder hill.
The tirades of an angry world do not survive the climb,
leaving us to peacefulness simple and sublime.
The higher up thoughts wander, memory grows hypoxic,
screening out the terrors of a world that has grown toxic.

Wild poppies sway and bend to currents fresher than below
as what we both remember overtakes what lies below.
We draw fresh energy and joy from everything we pass.
The cicadas churr rain’s promises from the obscuring grass.
Small creatures race for burrows, unaccustomed as they are
to the human menace that approaches from afar.

But our thoughts pass without harming, for memories pose no threat,
and we shed years and worries the higher that we get.
Remember all those years ago, those passions that we shared
with each new faltering kiss and each new secret that we bared?
Though the present is what nourishes, youth vanished way too fast.
What harm can be in going back for a light repast?

Prompts today are memory, passed, thought,  hypoxic, tirade, perambulate, fill.