Orgulous* of Orgulous!!!
I’m suffering from reluctance and a bit of perturbation
that is interfering with my blog’s administration.
Embarrassed for this rhyme, I’ve no proclivity to flout it.
I’m sure my stats will plummet. There is no doubt about it.
We’ll ascribe the blame to Ragtag, for “orgulous” is the word
they’ve chosen for our prompt today—a choice that is absurd.
Who uses it in common speech, or formal speech, in fact?
Any poem I used it in, I’d afterwards redact.
I’m not a jolly blogger. I’m delaying activation.
I feel no need to add to my reader’s education
by using words requiring their use of dictionaries.
I prefer clear writing that requires no further queries.
It’s habit that demands that I find a way around this.
But now I feel no further need to otherwise expound this.
I’ve flailed around in writing this. I edit and I stumble.
Tomorrow may they choose a word that is a bit more humble!
*Orgulous: haughty, proud, ostentatious, disdainful!.
Prompt words for today are stats, jolly, activation and orgulous. (Good grief!)
It’s my big sister’s birthday today. We won’t mention ages, but suffice it to say that she was always four years ahead of me in everything except birthdays, because mine has been happening six days before hers ever since I was born. Happy birthday to my dear sister who always has my back.
Click on photos to enlarge.
photo with permission from Lachlan Gowen on Unsplash
Night of the Dragon
Behold the dragon, how it flows
from its tail up to its nose.
Thirty feet and thirty arms
move the dragon’s sinuous charms—
its razor teeth, its threatening frown—
through the streets of Chinatown.
On its head, a golden crown.
Its many humps move up and down,
forming valleys, growing hills
while moving over rocks and rills.
Straightening out to cross the bridges
spanning between neighboring ridges.
Never flying through the air,
rising only up the stair.
So many mortals make one beast,
one night a year to roil and feast
on errant spirits wandering out
their vile sentiments to flout,
chancing their ends once more to free
those rotten souls they used to be.
One night of all we form the back
that otherwise the dragons lack.
We form their arms and form their feet,
arousing awe in all we meet.
And thus it happens, once a year,
we become that which most we fear.
Different Strokes
Life’s not always better when lived within a bubble.
Boring regularity might be traded for trouble
by some who find that firewalls just hold in what is boring.
They prefer the heat of flames—the crackling and the roaring.
They do not stress the cognitive. The sensual’s what rules.
They consider rational thinkers as the fools.
They do not heed the laws of men nor mind the dull world’s censure.
They behold the world as one long and wild adventure.
It takes all types to fill the world—some to become the members
who put out all the fires while the others stir the embers.
Prompt words today were firewall, behold, traded for trouble and cognitive.
