Jewelry day. Bracelets and earrings. I was so busy curling the ends of the wire
to hold the beads on the earrings that I didn’t have a chance to photograph many
of them. I did better with the bracelets. Thanks, Becky, for all your help!!!!
I languish in these pointy shoes with their flimsy straps.
My ankles teeter with their height, I poke out through their gaps.
I don’t appreciate the fact that they’re the current style.
You try walking in such shoes mile after mile!
The material that forms them is so sparing and so meager
that I’ll be darned if I can figure out why gals are eager
to teeter down the street in them or wear them out to dance.
Trying to walk on shoes like this is taking quite a chance!
The truth lies in the fact that shoes like this must be the fashion
of men for whom the look of things is their only passion.
Safety and walkability cannot be their goal,
for feet were not created to balance on a pole
held in by straps that mean the heels can slide from side to side,
prompting a proclivity to stumble and to slide.
Mr. Choo and Ferragamo, if they ever tried to wear them
might have found their shoes inclined to torture and to scare them.
There should be a special Hell made for designers who maintain
that for the sake of passion one must succumb to the pain
of shoes that are a torture. They should have to walk a mile in them
and while they are in agony, be forced to feign a smile in them!!!!
Assisted by my friend Becky McGuigan (Thanks, Beck) I did two projects with the kids: egg carton flowers and jewelry. Last week we did necklaces and bracelets. This week we’ll do bracelets and earrings. A photo in my FOTD post for Aug 12 showed one of the flowers. Here are a few photos of the jewelry and also a photography project that my friend Bethany did with the kids. They each went home with a book of their photos. One more day of camp tomorrow! I’ll try to get more pix this time.
I was so busy during art camp that this was the only photo I was able to take!! This is one young man’s egg carton flower. Very colorful! The plate is not part of the flower, by the way. Just something to carry it home on.
For Cee’s FOTD
The young are often credulous—open to chains of lies—
reaching out for the brass ring, desirous of the prize.
Hopeful, naive and buoyant, they flit from thing to thing,
desirous of the riches they hope that fate will bring.
With age their hopes are truncated as reason rears its head
and they discover the reality of what life gives instead.
Toil, sweat and labor and responsibility
supersede those youthful dreams of nobility.
Fuming with fate’s injustice, we are pulled into line,
as sour grapes replace youth’s hopeful dreams of honey wine.
For Cee’s FOTD
Couldn’t resist reblogging this for the dVerse Poets Restaurant Prompt.
The Prompt today was to write a poem that begins and ends with the same word.
“Dining Alone at the Maria Bonita Restaurant Bar”
Señor Garcia is smoking today.
Maria Phoenix lies on satin sheets
on the wall of Maria Bonita Restaurant Bar.
It is a small palapa restaurant––soft orange front with
hot pink trim–– that I’ve driven by hundreds of times before;
and every time, I’ve wanted to come in, but haven’t.
Now today, suddenly,
I don’t want to go home
and so my car turns in across the carretera.
I am the lone customer.
The cook and waiter
spring to action.
Totopos for him to bring,
a fire for her to light.
This is a fish restaurant
and I am a non-fish
eater, choosing between
quesadillas and beans
or a hamburger and fries.
Needless to say, I’m not here for the food.
View original post 487 more words
For Cee’s FOTD
The Vacant Lot
The vapors of a morning mist rise from the vacant lot.
It is a tract forgotten— our neighborhood’s biggest blot.
Each person’s in denial as to their distribution
of building rubble and garbage that’s their daily contribution
to this precarious tumble of rubble, junk and weeds
that every year grows higher and in whose jumble breeds
mosquitoes, rats and killer bees that invade my yard
making neighborly coexistence exceptionally hard.
Good fences make good neighbors I’ve found to be a myth.
To see the truth of this old adage, we must strip it to its pith.
For the stone wall that borders it, alas, has been infested
by a million angry worker bees whose well-being’s invested
in invading all their neighbors, driving dogs and human folks
back into their houses to avoid their neighbors’ pokes.
A precarious situation, at best, dear reader, for,
there is a dilemma present at its core.
If we want to eat their honey must we put up with their stings?
Must we coincide with every danger nature brings?
For the ending of the story, if you care, you now must wait.
For I will recite it at a later date.