This hibiscus doesn’t bloom nearly as often as the others, perhaps because Zoe eats them? At any rate, it is a real treat when it does bloom. Presently, two flowers. They’ll be gone by tomorrow so wanted to share them.
For Cee’s FOTD
Why I Dine Alone at Burger King
I’d like a single cheeseburger with pickles on the side,
cheese but no tomato—a fruit I can’t abide.
Be sure there is no pink to see. I like my burgers brown.
You can also skip the cardboard hat. I do not need a crown.
Grilled onions on the cheeseburger and easy on the goo.
Give me a diet Coke with that. I’d like some French fries, too.
I sit down at a booth to wait, my number on the table,
but if I could, I’d supervise—that is, if I were able.
My sandwich comes. I have a bite. I see no pink or red.
I start to take a drink of Coke but have a fry instead.
It’s hot and oh so crispy. Redolent of grease.
I feel a surge of appetite. My hunger pangs increase.
I alternate the bites I take between the fries and meat.
As regular as clockwork. I do not miss a beat.
For when it comes to fast food, I do not equivocate.
My ratio of fries-to-burger I must calibrate.
I plan it down to the last fry. I don’t allow for glitches,
and woe to folks who borrow one. I do not abide snitches.
If you want a French fry, please buy some of your own.
I have plans for all of mine. I am not sharing-prone.
With one more bite of burger and only two more fries,
the ratio is one-to-two. I plan to synchronize.
I have it all planned out, my friend, so if you’re chancing by,
keep your fingers off my French fries, or somebody’s gonna die!
For: https://alwayswrite.blog/2023/08/02/wq-31-alone/
And HERE is a link to other poems and quotes on this subject.
Number 9 Blues
Those eyes,
that song,
A bird the color
of the moon
we met under.
The wind
a ribbon of sadness.
Cold hands,
broken heart—
all the hue
of a trumpet’s lonely staccato.
Hummingbirds love these blooms, as do I. There is a huge aloe just outside the window where my desk is located and I love watching new ones open each day and the visits of various hummers to sample them. Do you have a favorite? I culled out about half of the shots I took but couldn’t cull farther. Nor could I pick a star of the show.
For Cee’s FOTD
The cotton fibers found from Silk Floss Trees , which are called Kapok, are often used to stuff the insides of things such as pillows and a variety of other cold-weather clothing. The fibers of the Silk Floss Tree also have a hydrophobic property that allowed it to be used in the material that goes into life preservers.
The wood can be used to make canoes, as wood pulp, and to make paper. The bark has been used to make ropes. From the seeds, it is possible to obtain vegetable oil (both edible and industrially useful). The floss silk tree is cultivated mostly for ornamental purposes .
These trees can reach a potential 25 meters tall with fat and thorny bottle-shaped trunks and branches. (Information from Google.)
For Cee’s FOTD
Click on photos to enlarge.
I did this post for Wednesday Quotes, but after compiling it, realized there is a theme of “Alone.” Oh well, since most of my time is spent alone and what I do when I’m alone is to write or work in my art studio, I guess by some stretch of the imagination, it works.
“Done Begins with Do” was the motto chosen by my class when we graduated from high school and I’ve been following that advice my entire life. I think it applies to the other two quotes, so I’ve included it as well.
“When you’re tired, learn to rest. Don’t quit.”
I have the above line of advice taped to my desk beside my computer. On the other side of it is the one below from The Autumn Garden by Lillian Hellman. (I have since read that the line was actually written by Dashiell Hammett to help her during a period of slight writer’s block.)
“That big hour of decision, the turning point in your life, the someday you’ve counted on when you’d suddenly wipe out your past mistakes, do the work you’d never done, think the way you’d never thought, have what you’d never had––it doesn’t come suddenly. You’ve trained yourself for it while you waited, or you’ve let it all run past you and frittered yourself away.”
Vidalia Onion Dicer. No More Tears!
Sauerkraut and mustard, ketchup, onions, relish—
a hotdog was created merely to embellish.
The tears came later, when the bill came. Go HERE to read the story of the thirty dollar hot dog. And you’ll just have to imagine the story of my my recent forty-dollar corn dog eaten at a hotel in Billings, Montana. Pictured below, its story is too painful to relate. No onions, this time.
Here is the link for the prompt, and here are more poems on the subject for dVerse Poets: Vidalia Onions
Click on Photos to Enlarge.
