This photo was actually taken by my neighbor David Bershad, peeking over my wall to capture this wonderful shot of a grasshopper on my favorite hibiscus. As you can see, it has taken a few bites out of the flower.
Hoping for a miracle for Cee!!! xoxo
For Cee’s FOTD
Bob in “the” sarong, Bali, mid-1990’s jdbphoto
Fine Fabric
The fabric of my batik blouse seems to have grown too thin
as though what keeps the world out suddenly wants in.
A small tear on the shoulder and a long rend on the hem—
At first I wondered what it was that could be causing them.
Its fabric was durable— a fine hand-dyed sarong
spotted in the market and purchased for a song.
Young travelers in Bali, we had watched them being made—
as they traced the delicate patterns, we stood there in the shade.
And then I remembered it was nineteen seventy three
forty-four years ago that I brought it home with me
still smelling from the wax used as a resist for the dye.
The palm trees and the gamelan, the ocean and the sky
are memories wrapped up in that sarong I purchased there.
I used for a wrap–around, a towel for my hair,
a curtain and a picnic blanket, bedspread and a shawl,
a tablecloth and blanket—it served for one and all
as we traveled with our backpacks, on foot and boats and plane
then I took it with me when I went back home again.
Twenty-some years later, with my husband now along
I returned to Bali and brought my old sarong.
We found another like it—one for me and one for Bob.
Whenever clothes were called for, those sarongs did the job.
For years since then, I’ve used them for tablecloth or shawl,
for coverups around the pool, a curtain for the hall.
I had a caftan made of one. Now on another shore,
I wear it nearly every day and this is how it tore.
The woven equipale chair with tiny nails within it
reaches out for fabric every time I go to sit.
It gets my lovely caftan. and another favorite, too.
I know I shouldn’t sit in them, and yet I often do.
These memories are torn from us. It’s no good to resist.
All the parts of those gone days retreating in the mist.
Its fragile fabric wears away in spite of all our care.
It will not last forever. One day it won’t be there.
Later, I will join it through the tears life’s made in me.
All things are made or born to this inevitability.
(Click on first photo below to enlarge all and read captions.)
For SOCS the prompt is: blanket.
For Fibbing Friday, the challenging words to lie about are:
1. What is a decibel? Mr. Arnaz’s wife, Lucille Ball
2. What is an imbecile? Answer to the question, “What you be doing on April Fool’s Day?”
3. What is meant by an ‘impasse’? An admission by someone who is obviously out of date in their clothing choice.
4. What is a monogram? One’s one surviving mother of one’s mom or dad.
5. What is smorf? The sound an aardvark with a cold makes.
6. What is a precedent? The leader of our country.
7. What is anaglypta ? A nag is usually mainly lip ta her husband.
8. What is a skewbald? Someone as hairless as a cue ball.
9. What are kitten heels? The backs of kitten feet, obviously!!!
10. What is a pascal? A demand made by your father.
(I found Lucille Ball’s photo on several websites without attribution.)
Click on photos to enlarge.
Just in case it is overcast tomorrow, I took these photos of tonight’s moon from the swimming pool. Kinda chilly, but the hot tub was warm! Doggies encircled me but didn’t join me!!!
Puffed Corn
His ego is most copious, but alas, also fragile,
for his imagination is something less than agile.
He’s much given to adages that were coined by another:
prolific writers of the past, his preacher or his brother.
He’s not really a plagiarist. He just forgets the fact
that although he might perform it, he didn’t write the act!
His words, puffed up and pompous, are lacking in much worth.
They seem to lack a kernel, though provided with much girth.
For all that they sound pretty—refined to a high gloss,
instead of rarest metal, alas, they’re merely dross.
In short, although they’re polished ’til they sparkle, glitter, gleam,
they ramble on without restraint, sadly lacking a theme.
For RDP Thursday: Kernel
–Judy D-B
For dVerse Poets Pub, photo by Aaron Burden
To see the prompt, go HERE. The prompt quote was:
—whose hearts are mountains, roots are trees,
it’s they shall cry hello to the spring.
–e.e. cummings
30 Decibels
An upbeat singer has this choice
to bellow or to curb his voice.
Lower decibels are favored
so the music may be savored
The words for the Three Things Challenge are: UPBEAT LOWER BELLOW
Seasonal No-Nos
Coal in your stocking? There’s a reason.
(You’ve commited Yuletide treason
if you’ve been Christmas present squeezin’.)
These forms of unkind family-teasin’
aren’t allowed during this season:
You aren’t allowed to rag on sister
just because her boyfriend kissed ‘er.
Cannot short-sheet brothers’ beds
or put such mischief in the heads
of younger siblings so they do
naughty mischief, taught by you!
Can’t tease the dog or put the cat,
curled up, in your grandpa’s hat.
Cannot set the hamster free
to frolic in the Christmas tree.
Cannot conspire to spike the punch
when preacher’s asked for Sunday brunch.
All sorts of rules I could tell
to relieve the seasonal Hell
of switches in your Xmas stocking,
but I will do no further talking
of naughty things that you could do
to direct Kris Kringle’s wrath towards you.
For you require no more instruction
concerning means of the destruction
of the plans of all the others:
grandparents, sisters and brothers,
parents, uncles, aunts and those
who’ve wrapped up books and toys and clothes
to make your Xmas bright and fun
(so long as you have wrapped up none
of the gag gifts formerly plotted:
broken, ugly, fetid, rotted.)
Please wipe such plans out of your head,
or you’ll be sent,hungry, to bed
presentless, alone, unfed!!!!!
For RDP: Seasonal Image by Shutterstock
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 