Author Archives: lifelessons

About lifelessons

My blog, which started out to be about overcoming grief, quickly grew into a blog about celebrating life. I post daily: poems, photographs, essays or stories. I've lived in countries all around the globe but have finally come to rest in Mexico, where I've lived since 2001. My books may be found on Amazon in Kindle and print format, my art in local Ajijic galleries. Hope to see you at my blog.

Near: dVerse Poets Pub, Apr 28, 2018

I’m reblogging this poem which also suits OctPoWriMo’s prompt for today, in that it was a poetic form that I made up nd named after my father. This is the first example ever of Sylvestrian Near Rhyme! Running it past you once more…

lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown


My father went from obscurity to a sort of small renown.
He worked hard as a rancher and the mayor of our town.
He met my mother at a dance in her sister’s borrowed gown–
both of them lonely visitors to a faraway strange town.
I’ve thought about it often since we laid him down.
Why didn’t I ask more questions? Why didn’t I write it down?

Many a calf he helped to birth and many a field he’s mown.
Avoided his mother if he could–long-suffering aged crone.
Not many highways traveled,nor many airwaves flown.
He died in his angry daughter’s arms–the two of them alone.
I’ve thought of it often till regrets have turned into a drone.

His eyes were always looking further over yon.
Over a ripening field of wheat or over a fresh-mowed lawn.
Working, often, until dark and up again at dawn.
A man of…

View original post 195 more words

The Fallen


The OctPoWriMo prompt today, in addition to the first two words in the list below, is to devise a new poetic form. The form I’ve created is one of dual rhyme. The first part of each line must consist of two rhymed halves. In addition, the last word in each line must rhyme with all the ending words of each line in the poem.  I hereby declare the name of this new poetic form to be “The Forced Rhyme Two-Step.”
Word prompts today are stretch, disorder, topple, allegation, forest, awe.


The Fallen

Though the forest is my florist, it is locked in hibernation.
It’s my belief there is no leaf throughout the whole damn nation.
There’s no pollen. Leaves have fallen, and a further allegation
is an order that the border be locked up in litigation
lest the thieves of the leaves are a foreign delegation.
Word of mouth? They’ve fled south, so we’ll need a stronger station
to stop theft of what’s left of next year’s reforestation.
Yet the disorder at our border is a cause for jubilation.
Those not in awe of the law find it cause for much elation,
for the bloke is a joke who stirred up the population
when it’s galling that the falling is just due to maturation!
It’s a stretch, but the wretch who’s in need of education
is the chump, name of Trump, who’s in need of a vacation.
Fare thee well, POTUS from Hell, for we feel no reservation.
Your ablution’s the solution to our country’s renovation!!
“Vote him out!!” we all shout. End four years of reprobation!!
And when he topples, we’ll hear Koppel’s sincere felicitations.



Casting About for Fame and Recognition


Casting About for Fame and Recognition

I’ve never done a single thing of any magnitude.
I’m not in any centerfolds, posed there in the nude.
 I’d love to give a Ted talk, but I simply do not dare.
I’m nervous in the limelight, a stranger to the glare.

Peak climbing is too vigorous, so I avoid Mt. Everest.
I don’t compete in spelldowns for I’m simply not the cleverest.
Each autumn when the leaves turn, I swear I’ll turn one, too.
I’ll examine all my talents and find one that I’ll do.

I’ll write the next great epic tale. I’ll sail to Zanzibar.
But writing isn’t easy and that voyage is too far.
I’ll buy paints and a canvas and combine the two,
I’ll find out if great artistry is what I’m meant to do.

Or maybe I’l adopt ten kids and have a try at mothering.
See if I can show the correct interest without smothering.
If I approach this task with correct energy, less fear,
perhaps I can obtain my fame as mother of the year!

Prompt words today are strange, magnitude, nervous, vigorous, something you’ve always wanted to do and leaves.

“How Now, Ground Cow?”


To understand this story at all, you need to read this explanation of what the prompt was:

“How!”  “Now, Ground Cow.”

A UFO landed in a field in South Dakota and a little green creature hopped out of it and ran over to a herd of fine Hereford cattle. He was absolutely fascinated with these creatures and equally delighted that his attempts to communicate with them telepathically actually worked. One by one, they gathered closer to him, all interrupting each other in their efforts to answer his questions. Of what use were the appendages on either side of their heads?  Why were some  of these creatures so much smaller and why did some have a number of  fleshy appendages on their underside instead of the harder pointed ones on their heads?

Of course, the Bull had quite a few questions of his own, but the green creature just seemed intent on controlling the conversation and asking all the questions himself.

It was when he felt himself being nudged–albeit lightly, but with a very sharp horn–that the green being STOPPED TALKING for a few seconds, and the Bull seized the opportunity to ask if specimens of his own variety existed in the place where his interrogator  was from.

“Yes, sort of” said the green one. “We have creatures that provide us nourishment, but years ago they began taking up too much space, so we created another world of animals above.”

“Is this a polite way of saying that they all became extinct?” asked the Bull, with a worried look in one eye and a very dangerous one in the other.

“No,” chuckled the visitor. “We biologically altered them to enable them all to fly. Then we provided resting platforms above that are covered with nature, much as is your earth.”

“So, your cattle fly? ” asked the bull, and the alien shook his head “yes” telepathically. “As do pigs..”

At this particular moment, a native American pulled up in his pickup. He rolled down his window , held up his hand in the sign of universal peace, and to the little green being, he said, “How!”

The little green one, having neglected to learn telepathically any of the original languages of this planet, had no idea no idea  what this “How,” was meant to indicate, but he had business at hand and so he merely gave voice to a questioning “How?” before turning to complete his conversation with the earthling food source, that upon being invited to accompany them on their way back to their own planet, had asked how soon they would be leaving to view this sight of cattle unleashed to the heavens.

“Now, Ground Cow,” said the little green visitor, as he turned to go back to his space vehicle.

And when the farmer noticed a certain streak of green light zipping heavenward from the field where his cattle were kept, little did he know that it was his prize Bull Studley , formerly fated to remain on the ground for the rest of his life, that was now zooming off to earn his wings.  Never again would anyone call Studley a ground cow.

And so Studley lived happily ever after, living to a ripe old age during which, for the remainder of his time on the new home of his choice, not once did the thought of  becoming ground round ever enter his mind again.



After two brave souls answered my challenge, I was shamed into doing so myself. You can find the link here: And yes, it is really dumb!