Author Archives: lifelessons

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About lifelessons

My blog, which started out to be about overcoming grief, quickly grew into a blog about celebrating life. I post daily: poems, photographs, essays or stories. I've lived in countries all around the globe but have finally come to rest in Mexico, where I've lived since 2001. My books may be found on Amazon in Kindle and print format, my art in local Ajijic galleries. Hope to see you at my blog.

Necromancer’s Oversight for “Can You Write a Story in 51 Words?”

 

Necromancer’s Oversight

A type of evil second-chancer,
he became a necromancer,
nibbling cookies with a yawn
as he resurrected the devil’s spawn,
never considering whether
it was fine or stormy weather.
So, yesterday Beelzebub 
showed up dripping at the pub,
for his usual vacation,
minus his evil elation,
fire put out by precipitation.

 

For her prompt for “Can You Tell A Story In. . . .” this week, Esther wants us to write a story in 51 words including these words: YAWN, WEATHER, TOOT, COOKIES, NECROMANCER. (In case you have forgotten,  as I did, a necromancer is a person who practices magic to communicate with the dead, raise corpses, or use black magic.)

Illustration created making use of AI.

 

Family Harvest for “Cracking Open the Time Capsule.”

For “Cracking Open the Content Tme Capsule, we were to revisit our posts from this day, July 31. This post is from 2016.

Family Harvest

Sanguine, he was charismatic,
while she was choleric and emphatic;
so when their child was born phlegmatic,
the mother found his moods too static
while the father ruled his wife fanatic:
too moody, crabby and dramatic.

Their melancholic second child,
both parents found to be too mild.
Too analytical and quiet,
they put her on a special diet
of jalapenos in her suppers
and other culinary uppers.

Still, she grew up to be a judge,
while their eldest remained hard to budge.
Too relaxed to find employment,
he lacked the necessary deployment––
preferring to stay safe at home,
as lifeless as a garden gnome.

With dad the life of every party
and mother volatile and arty,
their family life slowly eroded.
Then one day, simply exploded.
Each unique personality
split off to be what they could be.

Thus would sage Hippocrates
class this familial demise
as differences in temperament.
Each following his special bent,
once fallen from the family tree,
did best when allowed to roll free.

 

“Four temperaments ” is a proto-psychological theory that suggests that there are four fundamental personality types, sanguine (optimistic and social), choleric (short-tempered or irritable), melancholic (analytical and quiet), and phlegmatic (relaxed and peaceful).––Wikipedia

Blast from the Past, July 30, 2018

On this date 8 years ago, we were asked to write a Clerihew.  I wrote several, which are below. You can also find a definition of the Clerihew there. Thanks for viewing this Blast from the Past!

lifelessons
lifelessons
lifelessons – a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown

 

It may be I will live to rue
the day I wrote each clerihew.
They may invite derisive snorts,
yet here they are with all their warts:

The word is out that Geoffrey Chaucer
never bothered with a saucer,
for though he raised many a couplet,
he always held them fully uplet!

Some have charged Truman Capote
with writing that is too emotey.
but though he was no macho stud,
I know that he wrote in cold blood.A clerihew has the following properties:

  • It is biographical and usually whimsical, showing the subject from an unusual point of view; it mostly pokes fun at famous people
  • It has four lines of irregular length and metre (for comic effect)
  • The rhyme structure is AABB; the subject matter and wording are often humorously contrived in order to achieve a rhyme, including the use of phrases in Latin, French and other non-English languages[2]
  • The first line contains, and may consist solely of, the subject’s name.

Summer Daze for Lens Artists Challenge #406

 

For Lens Artist Challenge #406, the prompt is “Summer Daze.”

“Dappled” for dVerse Poets

 

Henri Rousseau, La Promenade dans la Foret (The Walk in the Forest) (c. 1886), oil on canvas

Dappled

Shadows of leaves stipple the ground
in swirling patterns, all around,
like footsteps left by tiny feet
dancing to the wind’s wild beat.
They lessen as the sun goes down
and the forest floor turns brown.

The sunlight that all day has made
each leaf stand out as dappled shade
sinks into some other sky,
but soon enough, the moon comes by
with shadows of its own to cast.
With wind died down, their patterns last,
sure and steady, through the night,
each ringed by the moon’s soft light.

Staunch resident of the heavens, the moon—
your constancy our guide and boon—
the pathway that your light lays down
brings my lover from the town
to stand beneath my bedroom pane,
handsome, gentle and urbane,
to nightly plead my hand and troth.
Soft call of bird and wing of moth
likewise beat against the glass,
supporting what will come to pass.

Our passion, soon to come to light,
was birthed in shadows of the night
whereas the light that without fail
will fall upon my wedding veil
will be the dappled light of sun,
revealing what the moon has won.

For dVerse Poets

 

 

“Reminder” for RDP

Reminder

This morning, upon awakening,
I kissed my pillow and imagined it was you.
There was no sadness in the act.
It was a simple act of adulation.

If there had been a real person here,
I would wish that it were you,
but I’m content here in my solitude—
writing tributes to past lovers—

a bit puffier (me, not you)
than even that last time we met.
When I waken, joints are stiffer,
the cat more crabby in demands for food.

I wouldn’t say time marches on.
It turns its pages, shifts its screens.
The world, more innovative since the Internet,
spins us a new tale second by second.

Vicariously, we speed through life.
Other people’s lives become our own.
We feed ourselves and perform daily functions,
our minds in one world and our bodies in another.

In that manner,
one thing substitutes for the other.
Over and over, like shuffled cards.
This reality and that one.

Upon awakening, I kiss my pillow—
not a conscious act. Not one I will repeat.
A simpler act and one unplanned
to remind myself, perhaps, what’s in my heart.

For Ragtag Daily Prompt, Wednesday, the prompt is “Puffy.”

Pairs of Colors for CFFC

For the Pairs of Colors CFFC prompt, we were asked to post photos that combined two of the following colors: red, yellow, green, blue, brown, black, orange and purple. Here are mine. Click on photos to enlarge.

 

 

“Stirring the Pot” for FOWC

 

Stirring the Pot

Chunks and grains swirl round and round. They form a muddy mass.
I keep my paddle churning them as I turn on the gas.
As all the chunks and  bits melt down, the volume now decreases.
I watch the whole mess carefully. My vigilance increases.
I see it all congealing—an oily inky sludge
that after lengthy stirring finally turns to fudge!
This horrid, bubbling, lumpy goo that appeared so pernicious,
in the end turns into something creamy, rich, delicious.

For FOWC the prompt is “Decrease.”

Baby’s First Soda Pop for “Lets Hit Rewind” for July 28.

Couldn’t resist rerunning this July 28, 2016 blog for the Rewind prompt:

Version 2

jdbphoto


Baby’s First Soda Pop

When finally a kid is poppable,
once the bottle is untoppable,
the overflow may be unstoppable.
It’s fortunate the floor is moppable!

Care-less for dVerse Poets Quadrille Challenge

Care-less

Lately I don’t give a thought to what I’m going to wear,
and I’ve let my hair grow down to my derriere.
No longer do the men I meet ever stop to stare,
but it doesn’t bother me. I simply do not care.


The dVerse Poets Quadrille prompt today is “Care.” To see other responses to the prompt, go HERE. Image created with AI.