Whipper-snapper Fantasies for Word of the Day

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I’m not a whipper-snapper, nor a whipper-snapper’s son,
but I’ll try snapping whips when other whip-snappers are done!
Just hand over your whip and I’ll see what I can do,
but get out of my way lest I snap a whip at you.
Mind you, if I did so, it would be a whip-snap error,
but nonetheless with whip in hand, I think I’d be a terror.
So, though I’m not a whipper-snapper, nor  whipper-snapper’s son,
to be a whipper-snapping-daughter might be a lot of fun!

 

The word of the day is Whipper-snapper. Try as I might, I couldn’t get AI to make a non-sexy whip snapper, so think not that I have illusions of this being an image of me!

Benediction for SOCS

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Benediction

May your life be a pleasure from morning to night.
May your  talents be many and your drawbacks be slight.
When you’re sharing a donut may you have the last bite,
without finding out later that your dress is too tight.
May all of your children be a delight.
May they not stutter or blunder or fight.
May they always be tidy, unwrinkled and right.
May they be clever and of adequate height.
May your fame be unblemished and your burdens be light,
so when your husband is high as a kite,
he will have the wisdom to stay out of sight.

 

As you may have guessed, the SOCS  prompt is “may your…”

 

More Brainstorms for Fibbing Friday

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Image created with help of AI

Our test of wits for Fibbing Friday is:

1. What is a board room? The display area of a lumber yard.
2. Who usually has The Chair? Santa
3. What are minutes? The containers for seconds and the contents of the hours.
4. What is a projector used for? A. device for removing people from a meeting who are in favor of an issue you are voting against.
5. What is a CEO? Chief Egotistical Organizer.
6. What is a ‘stand alone?’ A display table from which the crown jewels have been stolen in the Tower of London.
7. What is a portfolio? A wine menu.
8. What is agenda? Male or female
9. What is a ‘sea of faces’? The mattress of a crib a baby has been left in for too long.
10. To what does ‘any other business’ refer? Any financial endeavor Trump is not yet invested in and so one due to be taxed more heavily .

Gadfly, for RDP

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Gadfly

Flitting about, here and there
to adjust your makeup, fluff your hair
no one could ever know or guess
how many times you change your dress
to achieve that casual look you flaunt–
like attention’s not the thing you want.
A gadfly free of care and stress
over how you look and dress,
No one would guess how carefully
you engineer the “you” we see.

The prompt for RDP is “Gadfly.”

 

(I just have to show you what AI came up with when I requested it make a picture just like the one above but with the girl a bit older:

Hilarious, no????

The Truth of The Matter

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“Some Poetic Feet” for dVerse Poets Open Link Night

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Malina Rose photo

Four Feet off the Ground

He loved her khaki overalls, her hiking boots and hat,
so altered his agenda to be where she was at.
He knew she was the girl for him, and though he’d never met her,
he knew at once he was in love and that he’d not forget her.
He tracked her to the lunch room, sneaking down the hall,
keeping so far behind she didn’t notice him at all.
He followed her to English class, then slipped into his own.
If it had been left up to him, she never would have known
the strength of his affection. Nor would she have met him.
She would have had no choice to remember or forget him.
From the start, he thought that she clearly walked on air
and one day without knowing it, he followed her up there.
She was two feet off the ground, and with him, it made four.
All across the campus, they were seen to soar.
But when she stopped abruptly, he simply could not miss her.
He forged ahead, bumped into her, and when she turned, he kissed her!
And though at first it seemed that she merely was astounded,
in time, they formed a pair and then they were more firmly grounded.

 

For Photo Challenge #269

For dVerse Poets Open Link Night..Some Poetic Fet!

Colors! for LAC

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Purple bougainvillea

For this week’s Lens Artists Challenge, we are to show photos with one predominanat color

Snake of Light for W3 Prompt

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Snake of light,
back and forth,
one bright flash
carves the dark night,
Fire before rain

Give Me Blue for dVerse Poets

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Give Me Blue

If it is a blue with no sadness in it:
the blue of the sky above Colima Volcano
with no other clouds in it except one puff
of earth’s hot breath becoming visible
in the cool morning air.

If it is a blue
with no middle ground of safety,
nothing that makes it ordinary.
No hue of boredom
or gray cast of age.
No tint of ever ending––
just pure blue
holding its mood in,
letting you feel however you want to feel.

The blue of glass that reflects the sky.
Iris blue and periwinkle.
Cerulean and cobalt.

If it is a blue with not a smudge of green in it,
or yellow or white or black.
Blue-blue like my tue love’s eyes
and like the color that a blueberry Popsicle
should be––its blue dusted by nature
as though frosted, even in the heat of summer.
Like blue caught in icicles.

The color of a jellyfish
or Noxzema jar.
Bluebottle fly, tenacious,
only its color not annoying.
Blue as a shiver. Blue as blood. Blue as Hawaii.

Not the blue of a heart before forgetting.
Not that blue with a lot of
dullness soaked into it.
But if you have Blue as in Australia.
Blue as in a first place ribbon.
Sky blue,
true blue,
never blue.

Blue that if it’s ever had one gram of sadness in it,
doesn’t show it.`
If you have that blue,
and you want to give it to me,
then, sure.

 Give me blue.

for dVerse Poets, the prompt is to write an ekphrastic poem about one of the given Chagall paintings.

In The Doghouse, for Sure!!! For dVerse Poets

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What happens when you finally get a full 8 hours of sleep after months of 2 or 3 hours a night (if you are lucky––0 to 1 if you aren’t?)  The prescription your doctor gave you says it is a none-steroidal, none-addictive mild anxiety med that may make you sleepy. I got it half right. I got a full night’s sleep, but unfortunately carried my anxiety along with me into what felt like a full-night’s dream. The further irony is that it has been years since I’ve been able to remember my dreams. (And, you are doggone right. This is waaaaay more than 44 words. You can’t get it all right!!!) And I swear, every word I have written is the truth. I was about to answer the dVerse prompt last night but I absolutely could not get on the Internet and so gave up to fall into the sleep that produced this story which after years of no dream memory and at least three months of almost no sleep, I hope you give me the poetic license to tell. Not poetry, not 44 words, but the gospel truth. Now, I guess I really am in the doghouse?

Dogged Dreams

It is 5:58 in the morning and I was just awakened by my barking dogs…all three of them. There is a good side to the story as I was awakened from a dream in which absolutely everything went wrong. In the dream, after I had waited for two hours for an interviewer to show up, the man who was to introduce me actually gave such a long intro that he ended up essentially giving all of the informmation I was going to reveal in the interview, and even then, the interviewer  did not show up. His assistant did, however, to retrieve equipment that was actually equipment that belonged to me, and no matter what I said, he refused to believe me and took it anyway, saying if I wanted to bring it up with his company later, I could.

Then a friend came by saying she was going to the liquor store to buy Scotch and did I want her to get me some? Under no circumstances, I said, I badly needed a drink, but I hated Scotch. Could she get me a bottle of gin? “Done,” she said, then showed up proudly as I began my third hour of waiting for the interviewer (who never did show.) “Here you go,” she said, presenting me with a huge bottle that included a wooden stand that proudly announced its name:  “Scotch!” I had just pointed out her error to see her march away, furious, sure that I’d ordered the damn Scotch, and was about to follow her off the interview site after telling them they were the most poorly organized outfit I’d ever seen and that I was announcing the name of the person who took my equipment to the owner of the company, who happened to be my uncle(a lie)––when the dogs began to bark, thus saving me from an additional minute more of torment.

 

The dVerse Poets prompt was: Write about the dog days – of summer, of war. The dog-eared pages of your favorite novel. Tell us about a time you were sick as a dog, or give us a little hair of the dog. Make it rain cats and dogs. Put your poem through a downward-facing dog yoga pose, or let it run with the dogs. Let sleeping dogs lie, or tell the truth about this dog-eat-dog world – or anything else you doggone please. Just be sure your poem is exactly 44 words long, including some form of the word dog – or you’ll be in the doghouse. 

Image made with help of AI