For Cee’s FOTD
Click on photos to enlarge.
The long hot summer seems to be over, folks, at least for awhile. Hurricane Lidia has hit the coast and is heading our way. At my house, fans have been replaced by space heaters, toe socks have been dug out of storage, and the kitties have been allowed admittance to the house. Coco sits on the terrace table, facing me with hopeful eyes, and wins admittance to the bedroom for herself and Zoe. Rain has cooled down the pool and continues to fill it to overflowing, and the dVerse Poets prompt, as well as the weather, has turned my mind toward steaming cauldrons of soup.
Soup’s On!
After months of weather that is bloody hot,
it is a shock adjusting to weather that is not.
Lidia’s approaching. We feel her chilly blast.
More weather to complain about. I feel the die is cast.
Summer’s fast departing. In fact, I think it’s gone.
So jettison the ice cream and put the soup pot on.
Clear soups, consommé or bisque. Any soup will do.
Cream soups, chowder, velouté. Campbell’s, potage, stew.
I’d settle for corn chowder, chili or tomato,
but I’d be even happier if it were potato.
If there is just a drop of any soup left to be had,
I’ll settle for a soupçon. A spoonful. Just a tad.
So ring the dinner bell. At once, I’ll be by your side.
Ready to be souped-up, crackered, coffee’d, pied.
Then roll me to my bed, please, and tuck the covers tight.
Chowdered-up and toasty, I’ll bid you a good night.
The prompt for dVerse Poets today is to make soup!!! To see other poems about soup, go HERE.
Now, some anonymous “Doubting Tom” has questioned the integrity of this posting and suggested I just stuck this morning glory into the shot. So, I’m adding a “proof shot” that shows the flower, sadly wilted a day later, attached to the vine. Doubt me not, oh anonymous one!!!
For Cee’s FOTD
Tag Along
You cannot pluck moonlight to bring in your pocket, yet unasked and unbidden, it may follow you home.
For dVerse Poets Prompt: Write a prose piece of no more than 144 words that includes this line from a Helen Hoyt poem: “You cannot pluck moonlight to bring in your pocket.”
To see other reponses to this prompt, go HERE.
My thoughts on the Universe and travel therein are expressed in this poem from a few years ago: https://judydykstrabrown.com/2021/02/21/the-return/
For Cee’s FOTD
As you can see from this photo, my view of the aloe vera plant pictured above is from the opposite side, but it gives me an excellent view of the hummingbirds who come to sip from its blossoms! Although it appears to be invisible here, I have an excellent view of the bloom.
Jail Break
All these words are borrowed. They are not really mine.
They came all neatly packaged in an orderly line
where they were held hostage, gathered up and wrapped—
a lexicography in waiting with its power oddly sapped.
Words slack with grief, all gathered in a long veiled sigh,
as though lined up like prisoners, scheduled to die.
Bare pockets empty of bare change, stripped of all their worth,
words that once soared to lofty heights were now brought down to earth.
But here I am their savior, for it’s been left to me
and other hero poets to set their power free.!
The words for The Sunday Whirl Wordle 623 are: slack grief hostage gather bare heights wrapped words pockets long veiled sigh
No Escape
I’ve vowed that I will have no more
of all the things that I abhor.
Indeed, these things that I detest
that in the past came to infest
my head and home and my whole life,
causing pain and stress and strife,
I left behind when I moved South,
and merely hear by word-of-mouth.
And in return, I trade for tales
of my South-of-the-border travails.
For the Three Things Challenge the words are: ABHOR DETEST INFEST
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 