At the end of every summer, they burn weeds off the mountain. These are photos of both the mountain afire
and the lot next to my house. Good thing construction is almost entirely concrete and red tile roofs here. Well, except for the palapas which always seem to escape unscathed.
Click on any photo below to enlarge all.
And, of course, there is the biggest fire of summer, here shown going down. Click on any photo to enlarge all.
Published as part of this series: https://ceenphotography.com/2017/04/04/cees-fun-foto-challenge-summer-fire/
jdbphto
Keyboard Athlete
Not a great sportswoman—champion of none.
I sport a camera when having my fun.
My skill is not measured in baskets or bases.
I score my points while clicking at faces.
Though I’m not the most physical person you’ll meet,
I do exercise caution when crossing the street.
My main lack of muscle tone’s merely because
My pushup experience is mainly in bras.
As you vault over hurdles and excel at tennis,
the extensions I do are less of a menace.
Though I’m not an expert at sprinting or jogging,
my fingers are well-toned through everyday blogging.
The prompt word today was “champion.”
Click on either photo to enlarge both.
Now look here: https://ceenphotography.com/2017/04/04/flower-of-the-day-april-5-2017-pieris/
Do you think it’s simple, giving voice to our demands
without the proper vocal chords, without your human hands?
Everytime we try to talk, you scold us and you hush us,
even though you’ve just admitted that our howls are luscious.
And lacking proper fingers, we cannot write you letters.
We aren’t given proper tools to address our “betters.”
Simply howls and growls and barks and waggings of the tail—
and yet you do not take the time to learn this doggy Braille!
If you’d listen closer, perhaps you’d understand us.
Instead you shout out, “Stop!” and “Hush!” and seek to countermand us.
Can’t you understand that we’re protecting you from prowlers?
Feral cats and owls and skunks and nearby canine howlers?
We have such curiosity, though you determine to balk us.
We wouldn’t have to rush the gate if you’d take time to walk us!
We have to climb up on the roof to get a worldly view.
We wouldn’t be there barking if you’d take us out with you!
As for the cat food, take a clue. The reason we adore it
Is ‘cause it’s smelly, wet and luscious. Dog food? We abhor it!
That cat leaves a bit to tempt us—it’s a cruel feline game!
So why not buy us cat food? It costs you just the same.
And now the final agony. The ultimate tragic hitch,
Not only can our mom not cook, but now we make her itch!
No wonder our neuroses include jostling for attention.
A mother who can’t touch us? This escaped your earlier mention.
We thought you didn’t like us so we tried to win your favor.
Your touch is what we long for even more than cat food’s savor.
And as for pooping in the yard, you never told us to
sneak behind the garden shed to have our little poo.
You seem to think we know these things, but where would we have learned?
It’s you who should have taught us, for obedience must be earned.
If you would spend more time with us, perhaps you’d finally see
there is no other creature with whom we would rather be.
The dVerse Poets prompt this week is a fun one: to use anthropomorphism making an animal or object behave and appear like they are human beings.” in a poem.
See the prompt and other examples here. Come join in the fun! https://dversepoets.com/
okcforgottenman at dawn. jdbphoto
Hate to rain on your beautiful sunrise, but the beauty of the morning sky doesn’t tell the whole story.
https://dutchgoesthephoto.net/2017/04/04/tuesday-photo-challenge-morning/
For this prompt, we were asked to answer the questions asked by James Lipton on Inside the Actors Studio. Since I worked with him for three years when he directed the Xmas Special of the Bob Hope Show, during which time he never asked any of us any of these questions, I am going to answer the questions here. (I also happened to love Inside the Actor’s Studio during the years when I had TV and could watch it.)
So, here goes.
~ ~ • ~ ~
1. What is your favorite word?
Plethora, because I am so proud that I know the meaning. ;o)
2. What is your least favorite word?
Awesome. If you want to know why, hit the link.
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
Conversations. Nature. Loving actions.
4. What turns you off?
Cruelty.
5. What is your favorite curse word?
Asshole! (Muttered only upon encountering really selfish or bad drivers or parkers.)
6. What sound or noise do you love?
Laughter.
7. What sound or noise do you hate?
Donald Trump’s voice.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Interior decorating.
9. What profession would you not like to do?
Tax accountant.
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
“Your friends and family are all waiting for you!”
https://thespectacledbean.com/2017/04/04/unofficial-share-your-world-im-pivoting-here/
Jump!
I am on the cusp of something,
grasp the tail of it, lose my grasp,
hurry off to pick up the dog from the groomer,
pick a fresh papaya.
If I could get my teeth into my future,
I would be gap-toothed—with a space between
for slipping away.
I have an urge to sell my life off
chair by chair,
painting by painting,
shirt by shirt––
until, stripped bare,
I have only myself to sell
to the zephyrs,
dissolving up into the universe.
Or perhaps I’ll finish all those novels
on the cusp of completion
for 30 years or 20 or 10—
Every decade a new story begun,
attempting in the telling
to sow my secrets to see what they will yield.
Fame or disgust or apathy?
The problem with daring to surge ahead from the cusp
is that we find out for sure.
“She is on the cusp,” they are always saying.
“Why doesn’t she jump? We’ll catch her.”
My muses hold the net. How loosely?
Dare I trust them?
That time before the beginning so safe
that perhaps I’ll stay here
on the cusp.
The prompt word is “cusp.”
This flower that this is a small detail of was at least 2 feet long and hanging down from a great height on an even longer stalk. Just gorgeous. I’ll show the entire bloom tomorrow.
See Cee’s daffodils HERE.
Imprudent
An hour ’til midnight and still I’d not
written anything but rot.
The problem is, I’m not a student
of anything that smacks of “prudent.”
Especially when it comes to writing.
How can prudent be exciting?
A friend from whom I asked advice—
a guy who’s usually nice—
said, “Just write a limerick.”
“Yech!” I screamed. They make me sick!”
The problem is, time after time,
they are not funny and do not rhyme.
His advising role I here recuse,
and declare him as my anti-muse.
(This poem is based on a real conversation at the end of which I declared that I didn’t want to talk to him for 20 minutes, at the end of which I’d have a poem. Done!!! Not much, but better than a limerick! And I finished, proofed, tagged and posted in exactly 20 minutes.)
The prompt today is “prudent.”
