Monthly Archives: August 2021

Stages, FOTD Aug 28, 2021

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Click on photos to enlarge.

For Cee’s FOTD

Hibiscus, Aug 28, 2021

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This brand new hibiscus was at the height of its beauty today. It seems to float above the brick pathway of the garden.

 

For Cee’s FOTD

Ruffled Hibiscus, FOTD Aug 27, 2021

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For Cee’s FOTD

The Watchers

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The Watchers

Is deja vu imagined or is it re-dreamed dreams—
time as we have lived it leaking at the seams?
Perhaps time is a magnet that draws in all our years
like a solar plexus for all our hopes and fears.

Perhaps it teams together with the universe
presenting itself over so we can rehearse
the choices that we’re given and choose a different course—
one that fate rebels against, another to endorse.

The chance of this may stupefy, for man in his confusion
is prone to make a science out of his delusion.
But forces we know little of perhaps control it all.
They have us in their balance, weighing out our fall.

Prompts for today are deja vu, magnet, stupify, plexus and force.

 

An Avid Fetcher’s Soliloquy

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My house’s front door.

Click on photos to enlarge.

An Avid Fetcher’s Soliloquy

Whose house this is I so well know.
She’s swinging in the hammock, though.
I think she came to catch some zzzs,
not for a Scottie on her knees,
but still, I charm her with my eyes
and my bigger brother vies

to win attention and her pats,
but I want something else, and that’s
a tennis ball thrown just for me.
I drop it now beside her knee.
She reaches out and throws it up
and I’m a very happy pup

as I race to go retrieve it
knowing that she will receive it
once again, and then again,
for that’s the way it’s always been
ever since I can remember,
mom compliant, me so limber

that sometimes I catch that round
ball before it hits the ground.
and though her left arm’s occupied
with scratching Diego’s tough hide,
her right arm is my provenance,
and so I bark and jump and dance,

encouraging throw after throw
so I can follow where they go,
and when at night I go to sleep,
upon my dog bed, burrowing deep,
I pray the God of dogs protects
mom’s throwing arm from all defects.

For dVerse poets, the prompt is to write a soliloquy.

I wrote this one on International Dogs Day, Aug 16, 2021.
Thanks to Victoria Slotto for pointing that out to me.

FOTD Aug 26, 2021

8 Replies

 

For Cee’s FOTD

The Human Race

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The Human Race

Our world keeps tripping over its own tangled shoelaces,
one generation tying them up, the next heedlessly
rushing ahead in wondrous greed until it trips, falls,
and stops again to tighten its laces.

Today goes for the throat of yesterday,
bemoaning its tardiness
in choking off the past
while rushing ahead in a blind race.

In a constant state of pregnancy,
one generation gives birth to the next,
standing and tripping and falling in turn
like an automaton marching ahead to its own destruction.

Prompt words are throat, tangled shoelaces, wondrous, tardy and pregnancy.

CMMC: “M and M’s”

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I gave Mommy a little hug, hoping she’d get the hint,
Watched by the usual dummies
Jammies

Cee’s CMMC prompt demands photos of things that contain two M’s.

Not in the Cards (An Art Dealer’s Lament)

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Not in the Cards
(An Art Dealer’s Lament)

I hear your family reads tea leaves and
can tell the future from a hand.
And it’s been said that being mystic
tends to make one altruistic;
but insufficient evidence
exists in proof of this and hence,
moving forward, I must state
it is a truth I must debate.

Your sister’s painting of the farm
shows some skill, a certain charm,
with animals in states of grace
which normally is not the case.
Stallion, bantam rooster, steer
are not the best of friends, I fear.
And that pig you lately ate
likely knew its horrid fate.

I’ve no need to excoriate
your peaceful kingdom, but of late
realism is the trend
in the paintings that I vend.
It’s clear your sister did not foresee
what my response was going to be,
for her depictions of rural glee
are not the canvasses for me.

Prompt words today are altruistic, farm, canvas, forward, insufficient.

Puddle-Jumping in the Rain: Wordle 515, The Sunday Whirl Aug 22, 2021

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Puddle-Jumping in the Rain

A surge of wind predicts the storm,
blows in the clouds, dispels the warm.

One dry gust sends blinds to swinging
and in the eaves commences singing,

billows drapes, blows open doors,
spreads leaves on counters and on floors.

Soon the rain masks land and sky
as the whole world begins to cry,

fashioning a different role
for each ditch or deep pot hole.

Children scurry home from school
earlier than is the rule

to tug on boots over their feet
and splash through puddles in the street.

These stompings in the driving rain
earn their mothers’ deep disdain.

Mud caked on leggings, jeans and coats,
remnants of ramblings through moats,

oceans, rivers, seas and streams—
all the faux waterways it seems

kids are drawn to in a gale
and moms forbid to no avail.

 

Prompts for the Sunday Whirl Wordle Prompt are: role, surge, fashion, gust, dry, send, children, masks, storm, and counter