Category Archives: Beauty

Perfectly Formed

Version 2

Perfectly Formed

We demand perfection in so many things––
performances most flawless, cars that sport no dings,
trophy wives to greet us at the door each night
with Ivory complexions and bodies toned just right.
My kid’s an honor student, your child a beauty queen.
If we have other children, they are more rarely seen.
In our quest for perfection, somehow the TV
Has become our standard for reality.
Silicone injections in our lower cheeks,
surgery reducing our stomachs, thighs and beaks.
If we’re not born perfect, thank God that we can buy it.
Every ordinarily attractive gal should try it!
I heard there was a sale on for tummy tucks and lifts––
promoting them as valentines and other midlife gifts.
And so I declared myself my own valentine
and began to plan a body that was really really fine.
I started with love handles and worked up to my neck.
‘Til I’d made a total rehab out of this old wreck.
If I had been born perfect, I’d probably be blue.
I would have had to figure out something else to do.
Perhaps I would have learned to make those statues on my shelf
instead of concentrating on adjustments to myself!

This poem is a spoof––no tummy tucks yet. When I was growing up, there was a feature in the “Reader’s Digest” entitled “The Perfect Squelch.” In it, they would share perfect examples of verbal “one-up-manship.” Now that’s the kind of perfection I can appreciate. I’d love to hear your examples  of perfect squelches you’ve made or heard in the comments section below. I also have a “perfect photos” piece I’m working on, but I’ve run out of time as I have a birthday party to go to, so come back later for the photos I meant to accompany this poem.

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/perfection/

Natural Girl

(Photos above? Before I was a natural girl! Poem below? Fifty years later.)


Natural Girl

Underneath this hairpiece, I am a natural girl.
It’s just that blogs are waiting, and I haven’t time to curl.
I haven’t put on makeup for a month or so, but still
there’s no one here to see me as my daily prompts I fill.

I don’t need any lipstick, for my lips have grown too thin
to find a place to put it, plus I don’t know any men
around to help me kiss it off and so why put it on?
That’s why when my friends see me, they think I’m looking wan.

I no longer wear foundation, for it clogs up in the cracks.
And that’s not the only makeup that my face so lately lacks.
I cannot wear mascara, for my dry eye medication,
every time I use it, sends eye makeup on vacation.

I’m growing out my bangs and so no need to shape and pluck.
My eyebrows don’t show anyway, so I say what the fuck!
Without the rest, why take the time to make eyelashes curl?
Lately, by default, I am a totally natural girl!!!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/natural/

Why We Believe

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Why We Believe

I think the reason why I believe is probably at the root of it the reason why we all believe in something.  It is just such a miracle that anything exists and that I get to be a part of it. What are the chances out of the entire universe that I would be born  at all, let alone born to the time and place and parents that I was? And what are the chances that I would be healthy and have the benefit of an education and that I would find the courage to live the life I want to and continue to have that courage into my sixties and I hope my seventies and eighties and nineties.

I can understand why it would be hard to continue to believe in the magic of life if one were ill or abused or confined or physically handicapped, yet people do continue to hold onto every scrap of existence.  Life is such an incredible thing and to not appreciate it when we have every reason to appreciate it is such a waste.

There is so much cruelty and oppression and greed and poverty and disease and sadness in this world.  Yes, we do what we can to fight it, but an additional and very important way to fight it is to be as productive and happy as we can be.  Polarity demands its opposite and the world changes for the good by holding onto as much of the positive as we can.  Living it.  Promoting it in others.  Helping each other.  Good mothers and fathers do this every minute of every day and those of use who don’t have children can do it by trying to be surrogates for those children and those adults who need our care and help.  This help may be given in an organized fashion by volunteering and donating or by the way we treat others in our every day life.  We can be observant. We can be helpful.  We can be as kind to each other as possible, given that we are human and feel anger, fatigue, frustration and hopelessness.

At the end of the day–even the worst day–we get to choose whether to give up or to continue to believe, and even if the choice is to give up, we have one more chance.  I think dreams are messages and reminders we send to ourselves–little boosts encouraging us to listen to that deep part of ourselves that will always believe, even if it has to go on without the support of our conscious minds.  It is the part we get to when we write or draw or paint or dance or sing or play an instrument.  That is the importance of the arts.  They connect us to our beliefs.

So when I find myself floundering, whatever time of the day or night, my easiest way to find a reason to keep going is to do what I’m doing now.  To write. Or to make art out of whatever I find around me.  For in this aspect, art imitates life.  It is simply looking around for what we can find around us and making the best of it.  Someone once says “It is the job of the artist to take the detritus that the world creates and to hand it back to the world as art.”  That is exactly what I do in my “found art” collages.  And this, at the end of the day, is enough for me to believe in.

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Click on any one of the images to enlarge and enter gallery.  Can you find “Lord Love a Duck,” a pheasant, frigate birds, the ballerina, puffin, a seal, a sea bird, wild pig or “Found Heart?”  I just realized I left out my favorite, so I’m going to add it below.

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The Prompt: In Reason to Believe, Bruce Springsteen sings, “At the end of every hard-earned day / people find some reason to believe.” What’s your reason to believe?

Islas Ballestras of Peru: Cee’s Travel Theme Land Meets Water

                                            Islas Ballestras: Peru’s Galapagos

Sometimes where land comes together with water, that land is an island; and in Peru’s Ballestras Islands, it furnishes a wonderful preserve where millions of penguins, boobies, gulls, seals and other animals are able to live in a protected environment.

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To see Cee’s incredible panoramic coastline view and other photographers’ work, go HERE.

Flip Flop

th
flip flop

the sound  of ease
and summer

not much to slip into
or out of

sand between toes
and other cracks

released in sleep
to gritty sheets

grinding our sleep
and clogging up washing machines

long gone the days of high button shoes
and the shoe horns that went with them.

Waist cinchers
give way to bikinis

and bikinis
to nude beaches

half of the world
flip flopping

rubber soles
and swinging breasts.

flip flops
taking the place

of gasps
as stays are tightened

the other half
burqas and Jimmy Choo

these differences
in freedom found

and freedom
found too slowly

find release in
collapsing towers

conceal, reveal.
flip flop.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/flip-flop/

WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge: Converge

 Converge

I love prompts like this that force us to look at our photos in a different way.  I’ve just been waiting to use the first one below, which seems perfect for this challenge.  Thanks, WordPress, for pushing our minds as well as our eyes.

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I arrived at a local coffee bar/gallery to find it closed. This didn’t deter two little boys outside or the inside kitten, from communing. Where there is a will, convergence will happen!

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The woman, the children and each of the dogs each arrived separately to converge. There were three extra dogs as well, but I liked the composition of this cropping of the photo. The small dog jumping out from behind the umbrella pole is a picture by himself and seems to be gaining the attention of all except the children who are intent in their creative efforts in the sand.

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This fish was alive and left upon the sand to die. I couldn’t help but identify with his efforts to draw air. This is the part of fishing that bothers me the most. The children saw little difference between the live fish and the dead one, wanting to touch every surface. When the bigger boy reached to touch the eye, I flinched, but luckily the fish was dead by then. Not my catch. Not my boys. If they were, all would have passed differently.

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For more “Converge” photos, go here:
http://ceenphotography.com/2014/12/01/wp-weekly-photo-challenge-converge/

Wooden Heart

Wooden Heart

He handed it to me without ceremony—a small leather bag, awl-punched and stitched together by hand. Its flap was held together by a clasp made from a two fishing line sinkers and a piece of woven wax linen. I unwound the wax linen and found inside a tiny wooden heart with his initials on one side, mine on the other. A small hole in the heart had a braided cord of wax linen strung through that was attached to the bag so that the heart could not be lost. He had woven more waxed linen into a neck cord. I was 39 years old when he gave me that incredible thing I never thought I would receive: his heart—as much of it as he could give. Continue reading