This tiny fellow was hiding out in the front garden. Not quite a flower, but….
Mushroom: Flower of the Day, July 12, 2018
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Monthly Archives: July 2018
I Just Can’t See Infinity
I Just Can’t See Infinity
If my life was infinite,
no doubt I’d make a mess of it.
It’s hard enough to get it right—
to be law-abiding and polite—
for eighty or one hundred years.
We need time off for shifting gears.
Tyrants must get tired of
ruling the world with fisted glove,
and perfect folks must need deflection
from their lives of stark perfection.
Reincarnation is just right
for exchanging one life’s plight
for another set of woes.
For trying out some different clothes!
For giving us another chance
to trade in Omaha for France!!!
Let us be mortal. Let it be.
We do not need infinity!!!
The Daily Addictions prompt is infinite.
Stormy Thursday Doldrums
Stormy Thursday Doldrums
I awoke to thunder all around,
skies clad in gray, no other sound.
My whole world tucked into itself,
the white cat on the bathroom shelf,
cuddled into once-folded towels.
The old cat hidden in the bowels
of my closet, seeking peace,
wishing this thundering would cease
so all the other cats could go
outside again so she could know
some peace of mind free from the rankles
of other cats around Mom’s ankles.
Now a lightning bolt that shakes
the house until it groans and quakes.
Unaccustomed to this morning storming
and these dense clouds so closely forming
cover that screens out the sun,
the cats and dogs wake, one-by-one,
but do not clamor for their food
as though this dense dark interlude
bonds us all within its shell,
each thunder clap a warning knell.
Safe within our selves we dwell,
these fears of nature there to quell.
The calicos are on the couch,
accomplices in ready crouch.
The dogs still in their beds, awake,
but still no breakfast demands make.
I fill their bowls and all awaken,
Kibble given. Kibble taken.
Shadows through Virginia creeper
reveal that each noisy cheeper
is now taking to the wing,
as in my waking everything
now comes to life and morning’s born.
Hibiscus opens to adorn
the greenery it’s held up by,
yet still the thunder fills the sky.
This rainy season’s thunderous might
was once sequestered by the night,
but now it’s taken over day,
sealing half the world away
under covers, wrapped up tight.
A car alarm now sounds its plight.
Dogs howl. The whole world now seems bent
on furnishing accompaniment
to that long timpani rumble—
constant loud and rolling mumble.
Perhaps this entire morning with be
a constant natural symphony.
In rain’s surcease, the young cats go
outside again to spots they know
where they can shelter from the rain,
knowing it will be back again.
The old cat remains, safely hidden
in her tumbled closet midden
of shawls pulled down from hangers for
a nest she’s built upon the floor.
We stay inside, protected from
this storm’s pelt and constant drum.
Time for snuggling close in bed,
pillows cushioning my head,
computer balanced on my knee
to furnish me with company.
The rain now beats on ceiling dome.
I’m glad that I am safe at home,
fortunate in its protection,
safe from this stormy day’s detection.
Safely here within my groove,
I will not stir. I will not move.
Only fingers softly tapping.
Later, perhaps, a bit of napping.
The Ragtag prompt was groove.
Fandango’s prompt was accomplice.
U.S.A.
U.S.A.
Have we any doctrines? Have we any rules?
Are creeds and regulations simply meant for fools?
Has our common decency been voted away?
What of our Constitution? Has it become passé?
What would our founding fathers think, and what would they say?
Will loss of their declarations be the price we pay
for taking it for granted that liberty would thrive
so long as all our citizens managed to survive?
We always saw the threat outside—all those foreign men.
We never thought our country would be lost to those within.
Tell our air and water. Tell each foreign son.
Our doctrines and our principles seem to have come undone.
The Daily Addiction prompt is doctrine.
Night-Blooming Cereus, Flower of the Day, July 12, 2018
This is a very special posting as this cactus indigenous to Arizona and the Sonaora desert blooms only once a year for one night. As I was leaving Viva Mexico tonight with a young man I’d brought there to consult with Agustin–a very emotional event for us both, Tia Lupita, Agustin’s aunt, came running out of the restaurant and up the block after us. She put two of these blooms in my hand, telling me to put them in the refrigerator tonight and tomorrow night they would bloom fully. They are so gorgeous now that I can’t imagine their improving overnight, but I have minded her, after taking these photos.
I have been waiting my whole life to see this flower which I have read about so often and it means so much to me that she sought to give them to me. How I love Mexico and the people in it! The bloom as pictured is about 6 inches across. Click on any photo to see all, enlarged, as a slide series.
Coincidentally, Cee also published a photo of an incredible cactus bloom. See her flower HERE.
If it fits, wear it!
Don’t miss the video below! It is priceless. The kitten in the headset bag above is Annie, 16 years ago.
https://www.facebook.com/video/embed?video_id=10200387320826253
The Wings of Hummingbirds
The Wings of Hummingbirds
They break my heart,
these delicate wings of hummingbird
strewn on my porch
with a tiny head displaying one beak,
one eye.
Stripped of adornment,
one slight hummingbird
would hardly make a meal for a cat—
especially one recently fed at my kitchen door.
Where was I when this travesty
was committed,
carried out by a cat
true to its nature
and therefore bearing no sin?
I was out back,
filling the hummingbird feeder left by guests,
though I prefer the natural sight
of hummingbirds feeding at the aloe blossoms
or thunbergia or frangipani.
In the fenced backyard,
the dogs create a territory safe from cats,
but what am I to do about the obelisco plant I love so much in front—
the one spied every day with a new bloom
as I walk past it to my car?
What’s to be done for the royal poinciana,
seventeen years old,
spreading its shelter over street and wall and front garden alike?
A dangerous draw in a yard frequented by cats.
What’s to be done?
Defrock the area they roam in to make it hummingbird-free?
That double-pronged nature of cats—
their beauty and their savagery––
displayed so vividly in man himself of late––
can it be anything but plan?
And to what purpose?
We love the ways of nature but turn our back on half of them,
hoping they will not be demonstrated in our lives.
Until that one last fatal claw of fate descends upon us
and we fall into that scheme, resisting,
but our efforts futile.
Why are endings necessary?
Why must our hearts be broken
time and again
before they themselves are the breaking thing
and we pass into nature,
undivided, part of a whole both savage and tragic in its beauty.
Here is the hummingbird whole.
The cat whole.
Here are we, whole, observing them.
That has to be enough.
The now. This look.
This touch. This satiation for the moment.
The hummingbird before the slaughter,
the bone before the break.
Slashin’ Fashion
Slashin’ Fashion
We used to think that what we wore in public really mattered.
No one wanted to appear in clothing ripped and tattered.
But now it seems the custom is to vintage-up our fashion
like it has been ripped apart in the throes of passion.
Everywhere we go, bare skin is brashly popping out
as though we can’t afford new jeans and it’s a thing to flout.
When we gain weight we do not have to buy a bigger jean,
we simply use our scissors to augment the space between!
Old men shake their heads in shock and nearly lose their dentures,
and yet these wanton ladies draw their looks as well as censures,
for when they rouge their cheeks, they do not deal with only two.
Now they have to prep four cheeks for the world to view.
I worked on this poem for over an hour and when I tried to add an illustration, I lost it all! Nowhere to be found. Nowhere in drafts. Yes, a bit of cussing. I don’t know about you, but after I’ve written something, I forget it completely, so I had to start out again from scratch. This time it went more quickly, though, and although it is generally the same idea, you know what they say about the one that got away!
This time I’m copying it into my sticky notes before I try to save and illustrate it. This is the first time I haven’t done so in a long time and now I remember why I always did so! Image found on the internet. No credits given.
The Daily Addictions prompt is augment.
The Ragtag prompt is vintage.
Tabachine: Flower of the Day, July 11, 2018
Hooyah!!!
This may be the silliest poem I ever wrote. It is what happens when you discover an overlooked prompt at 3:42 in the morning!!!
Word from Your Mentors
When you are a bad boy, we are going to have to boo ya,
and when you make no sense at all, we’re gonna ballyhoo ya.
When you are confused, we will for sure be trying to clue ya
in on what is happening, and then we’ll have to queue ya
up for music lessons where we’ll one ya and we’ll two ya,
making you so musical the girls will want to woo ya,
and all the other boys in town will really want to sue ya
‘cuz all the girls that turn their heads only want to do ya!
But never mind those other guys who hiss at and eschew ya.
As you walk down the aisle, we will shout out hallelujah,
for though the other guys may pine over your bride and rue ya,
seeing you in wedded bliss, the rest of us say, “Hooyah!!!”
Ragtag gave a bonus prompt yesterday and since I find myself awake at 3:42 a.m. with nothing better to do, I guess I’ll play along. The word is Hooyah!
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 