Black-eyed Susan
Nothin’s as amusin’
as my darling black-eyed Susan.
Arms spread in the sun
to welcome anyone.
But when the sun goes down,
and she dons her evening gown,
the only one allowed to see
my black-eyed girl is lucky me.
For dVerse Poets Pub #147: Quadrille “Eye”. For more responses to the prompt, go HERE.
Jump!
The gusto we display toward life does much to enhance
our chances to experience adventure and romance.
If we view with precision everything we do,
evaluating closely and choosing to eschew,
instead of taking chances in discovering new fun,
choosing just to stay home to do what we have done,
we’ll wast the opportunity to open up our eyes
to all the joys around us that have long been in disguise.
Prompt words today are gusto, enhance. precise and evaluate. Image by Adolfo Felix on Unsplash.
Toyless
We are refugees from childhood and the gadgets from the past,
for hula hoops are out of date and Play-Doh doesn’t last.
No bean bags soar toward targets. No Pop-Its crack and hiss.
Millions of Wooly Willys will forever miss
their metal filing hairdos and, it’s true, what’s more,
pump-handle tops won’t spin away to whirl across the floor.
Potatoes doomed to peeling and slicing up for fries
miss Mr.Potato Head’s hats and ears and eyes.
Down what timeworn corridors have all our past lives fled?
Where are all the vestiges of playtimes that we led?
How can we track our losses when toy store staffs insist
that the treasures of our past, alas, do not exist?
Davy Crocket Coonskin caps no longer are the rage.
Beanie caps with propellers are not worn at any age.
Peashooters aren’t in evidence. Nor is Silly Putty.
Give a kid a Milking Cow and they’ll think you are nutty.
No slinkies climb down stair steps. No Hungry Hippos snap.
No Cabbage Patch Kids hang around to share a toddler’s nap.
Our childhood pleasures are passé. We may as well admit it.
All the things that we found fun? New kids just do not get it!
For the Sunday Whirl Wordle, prompts for this week are:
target fled millions live crack last refugee corridor gadgets losses staff track
Maybe It Is My Heart
Maybe it is my heart I hear when I think I hear Coyotes.
Maybe it is my heart I hear in the croaking of the frogs.
Maybe it is my heart tap-tap-tapping on the window glass.
Maybe it is my heart walking across the rooftop.
Maybe it is my heart howling in the treetops.
Maybe it is my heart in the two long rumbles of thunder.
Maybe it is my heart in the three-minute violence of hail.
Maybe it is my heart in the rustle of the Redwood trees.
Maybe it is my heart in the weeping of the loon.
Maybe it is my heart in the quiet undulations of the reservoir
Maybe it is my heart that splits the water with the paddle.
Maybe it is my heart that reflects from the breast of the waves.
Maybe it is my heart that has found its own places
Maybe it is my heart that is looking for me.
This post came about because of a Facebook message from Linda Levy, a friend of many years who lives in Bonny Doon, California. When she saw news of my upcoming show entitled “The Poet’s Eye, the Artist’s Tongue,” she sent a photo of a piece we collaborated on when I was the curator of the Santa Cruz Mountains Art Center in Ben Lomond, CA. I used that title for a show that involved artists and poets collaborating on pieces. Either the artist showed the poet a work of art they had created and the poet wrote a poem to go along with it or the poet presented a poem for the artist to make a piece to go with. In this case, I gave her the poem and the illustration above is the cardboard and paper sculpture she made. The ripped-out pieces of poetry on the desk are the words of the poem above.
That show reoccured on a yearly basis for a number of years after I left and Linda assumed the curatorship. Can’t believe that was twenty years ago and SCMAC is still going strong. Long story short, when Jesus asked me to do a show with him in his gallery, since both of us are writers and artists, I thought the title would work well for our show, so I resurrected it. Thanks, Linda, for the memories.
Poem by jdb Sculpture and photo by Linda Levy
Here is another photo of the lid of the box just sent to me by Linda:
Miss Effie’s Tinder Bio
I am far too wholesome to do anything shady.
I am an upright, straight-laced and morally pure lady.
I’m a domestic goddess, occasionally girlish,
who does not appreciate behavior that is churlish.
A knight in shining armor is what I hold out for,
I do not want just any man. I’m holding out for more.
If he would come along real soon, I think it would be nifty,
for I’d prefer my nuptials to occur before I’m fifty.
Prompt words today are wholesome, shady, occasion, churl, domestic. Image and retablo by jdb.
The Jardin Restaurant in the Ajijic Plaza always has beautiful arrangements at their entrance and changes them frequently to reflect the holidays,
For Cee’s FOTD
Obviously, this insect crossing my keyboard is confused and wondering where to go. Note the key he has just stepped up on.
Rejuvenation
Albeit our guide was a bit of a boor,
nonetheless as I moved through the beautiful moor,
I was soon beguiled by the hush and the sight
of the heather that grows to a glorious height,
obscuring the heath that grew down below,
restoring my soul from the world’s status quo.
When we stopped for a rest, I loosened the strap
of the pack on my back and took a short nap.
Then, rejuvenated, I set off again,
retracing the footsteps where I had just been.
Not the person I’d been when I’d passed there before,
ready once more to face the world’s roar.
Prompts today are hush, beguiled, rejuvenating, boor and strap. Cropped Image by Simon Forster on Unsplash.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 