Click on photos to enlarge.
Photogray, progressive lenses. So far my little darling Zoe has destroyed $1200 worth of glasses. Found these hanging on a bush. I’ve been looking for them for two weeks.
Reading Challenged
Diana Gabaldon’s romances are way too historic.
Koolkosherkitchen‘s recipes? Delicious, but caloric.
Mo Willems counts on pigeons to chase away the blues,
but I’d never volunteer to fill any pigeon’s shoes
due to my fear of flying, so even in a pinch,
to read of being airborne causes me to flinch.
Can’t read Cormac McCarthy or Murakami either.
When violence erupts in books, I have to take a breather.
Harlequin romances are too mushily romantic,
for I prefer my novels less sexually pedantic.
All-in-all you might have guessed I’ve little left to read
and so instead I write all day to satisfy my need
to hang out with a word or two that has not been written
by writers such as those above by whom I’ve not been smitten.
And though my poems aren’t edible or sexually explicit,
violent or airborne, I feel it is implicit
that I need an appointment with my therapist to see
if I can even stomach silly verses penned by me!
Prompt words are pinch, historic, appointment, volunteer, and flying. Image by Brendan Stephens on Unsplash.
Click on photos to enlarge.
Click on images to enlarge
Thanks to my friend Linda Levy for identifying this flowering succulent as a euphorbia flanaganii. Also want to thank her in advance for reminding me of its name when I forget it in the future!!!
For Cee’s FOTD
Escargot
I am an ally of the truth, which lives the whole world over,
hiding beneath leaves of grass or hyacinths or clover.
A tiny snail detective, sliding slowly with no sound,
scoping out a food source over every edge and mound—
with its single jaw at work, nature’s innovation
cleans up all her messes with its constant mastication.
Cutter ants march by like time, disposing hour by hour,
of beauty we aren’t finished with, flower after flower,
but the snail goes gliding by, almost beyond detection,
eating everything in sight—less picky in selection.
From animal waste to fungus, and even other snails,
the appetite of gastropods seemingly never fails.
And then, ludicrous humans, knowing not what they do,
themselves devour these creatures who deign to dine on poo!
Prompt words today are snail, innovation, detective, march, ally and clover.
Except for the photos of La Manzanilla beach, all of the photos are from my yard. The first photo is of the fin of a needlefish near sunset. You can see it again in the second to last photo. At a certain stage of darkness, my camera tends to translate darkness as rose pink. Thus the pink glow in the photo of the palm tree.
Dreamworld
My dreams are irregular and I cannot control them.
Every night I enter them in order to patrol them.
Sometimes I feel marooned there, like a miner with no pick,
a writer with no pencil, a conductor with no stick.
Vanity is left behind. No room for it in dreams.
Life’s garment that we’ve sewn with care is ripped out at its seams.
It does no good to gripe or moan that you have lost control,
for dreams move us outside ourselves as though that is their goal.
On the outside looking in, our life becomes a role
in which we play ourself in our quest to find our soul.
Prompts today are dreams, irregular, maroon, gripe, miner and vanity.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 