Image by Kenny Zhang on Unsplash.
Ode to Avolition
Those lacking in expedition
are victims of avolition.
Opposite of blind ambition,
slingshot with no ammunition,
no task brought to its fruition.
Old stories with no new edition,
goals lacking ample nutrition
sink into utter perdition,
prompting purpose’s sedition,
birthing lethargy’s tradition.
What prompted this poem written at 4 a.m.this morning? This Skype conversation with Forgottenman. I woke up at 1 a.m. after 4 hours sleep. He was still awake, thus a three hour conversation that included these lines:
The new strings are right there. I just can’t. I might be this. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Avolition
Avolition, as a symptom of various forms of psychopathology, is the decrease in the ability to initiate and persist in self-directed purposeful activities.[1] Such activities that appear to be neglected usually include routine activities, including hobbies, going to work and/or school, and most notably, engaging in social activities. A person experiencing avolition may stay at home for long periods of time, rather than seeking out work or peer relations.
Thanks for the prompt, Forgottenman, unintentional as it was. Couldn’t fall asleep until I practiced the opposite of avolition, resulting in this poem.
And, why not just link with dVerse Poets??? HI, Guys. Missed the live reading, but…just a case of avolition!!!
And here is the regular link to dVerse Poets.
Silk Floss Tree
This tree popped up in the arroyo a block from my house a couple of years ago. It is right next to the street, so I see it every time I leave my house. It produces huge pods full of kapok.
For Cee’s FOTD
Click on these gaudy socks to see them in more glorious detail!!!!!
Crazy Socks
Don’t feel that you must explain
a choice in socks that seems inane.
Sunflowers or checks or plaid
or other patterns in which you gad
should be nobody’s choice but yours.
Black socks are gloomy. White socks bores.
If you would please from top to toe,
choose the socks that make you glow.
Sox that glitter, clash or shock
better propel you ’round the block.
Those who balance on fashion’s fence
may well question your fashion sense
if you wear socks with chickens on them.
But go ahead and buy and don them.
You’ll start the day in mood more spritely
if you dress your feet more brightly!!!
This is a blog I made 8 years ago but it seems so appropriate that I’m repeating it for the Stream of Consciousness prompt “Tune.” Click on the blue links to hear the song that goes with each day’s activity. Have fun.
Change of Tune
Tuesday: I met old friends Jim and Ellen (who moved away a year ago) at Adelita’s for ribs and a year’s worth of talk.
Wednesday: I finally met up with the Mac computer repair guy who comes from Guadalajara to pick up sick Macs for repair. I have my fingers crossed that they’ll be able to save the Mac Air I spilled a full Coke on. Later, I made it to my “Not Yet Dead Poets” meeting.
Thursday: It was a “gas” when my stove broke and I couldn’t get the pilot light clicker to go off. The repairman had just been here, but I couldn’t find his number and panicked until eventually it just wore itself out. Still, please don’t use that back left burner. Now it sets off the clicker on the burner in front of it!! I certainly hope nothing bad happens.
An additional thrill for the day that many of you made your own was “The Thing“ that appeared on my garden wall.
Friday: I met my friends Betty, Liz and Larry at Viva Mexico for one of their enchiladas and a naughty tiramisu and one of their killer margaritas. Later, I felt . . .
Saturday: It’s been so long since I’ve seen my friend Audrey, but we spent a few hours at the new quirky cafe named Chillin’ and talked about planning a summer camp for kids in San Juan Cosala and Chapala.
The highlight of the week, of course, was the revelation of just exactly what “The Thing” was. Laura M. beat out a few close contenders for the prize by naming my newest addition to my home the “Lurkin’ Merkin.” Go HERE to see “The Thing” post. And HERE is the tune that goes with it!
And that, my friends, concludes my week in song. Please hit the links to hear the music. —Judy
These innocent-looking flowers actually invade my entire yard! They grow fast and furious and cover everything. Lovely for awhile, but then they totally die back and dry out, the vines have to be pulled off to reveal all the underkill. Pasiano recently removed them from most places but left enough in this spot for the little rascals to come back. I love them, but not their final result.
For Cee’s FOTD
For me, all of these photos depict a sort of finale.
Click on photos to enlarge and on right arrow to advance to next photo.
This will be Cee’s last Black and White Challenge. Thanks, Cee, for all the work you’ve done to maintain this and other challenges. For Cee’s CBWC
Dear Genie (A note Affixed to a Bottle)
Get back into the bottle. You’re doing nothing right.
The Adonis I requested just the other night
turned out to be the plumber. He got here around nine,
but the pipes he chose to work on were not any pipes of mine.
A problem with your hearing is a possibility,
so for now there’s only one more wish that I would ask of thee.
A doctor of ear, nose and throat you need to visit, please,
for when I requested money, you brought me hives of bees.
Now I’ve sufficient honey and beeswax it appears—
almost as much as I imagine you have in your ears.
As it is, each thing I wish for occasions my new fears.
So you’re confined to quarters ’til your hearing reappears!
These huge hibiscus just keep coming along. I love them and there are two or three new ones every day, just demanding attention.
For Cee’s FOTD
MORNING LINES I start again at the break of day to ascertain what I will say. What dreams have taught will have its way. I cannot throw night thoughts away.
The W3 prompt this week was to write a poem incorporating 2 or 3 lines of Leonard Cohen’s song, Anthem. The lines I chose are: “At the break of day”and “Start again.” My poem is above. Here are Cohen’s lyrics:
The birds they sang
At the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don't dwell on what has passed away
Or what is yet to be
Ah, the wars they will be fought again
The holy dove, she will be caught again
Bought and sold, and bought again
The dove is never free
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in
To see the W3 Prompt go HERE. To read more poems written to this prompt or to submit your own, go HERE.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 