Category Archives: Challenges

The Friday Four


Here are my answers to Rory’s Friday Four Questions for this week:

Here are Rory’s Friday Four Questions for this week:

The Friday Four
Ah questions, questions, questions – what is it about you and questions Rory?
Simple, l just like asking questions.
Some relatively simple ones today for this Friday however…
1 What three senses could you NOT live without? Discuss why…sight–because every year I live, being able to see the beauties of art and nature become more important to me, sense of hearing, to be able to converse with friends and listen to books and films, and a bit of a quandry since I know without smell there is no sense of taste, but nonetheless, I pick taste, hoping that won’t be taken into account.  The reason for taste? Chocolate, of course.
2 What is your favourite of these two and why? Pen or Pencil. Pen–a rolling writer or felt-tip pen, because I can scrawl faster with them and change my mind less.
3 What are your top 3 colours and why are they your favourites? Golden yellow, cobalt or sky blue and orange. And, the greens in nature, although I never choose green as a color to decorate with. Strange, as I love to be surrounded by the natural greens of nature. 
4 Are you able to list 10 basic smells and if so what are they?  Not sure what you mean by basic smells, but I will list my favorite ones: green olives, toasting bread, chocolate, brewing coffee, baking cookies, spaghetti sauce, petrichor, butterscotch, babies, popcorn.

Here are Rory’s Friday Four Questions for this week:

The Forgottenman Challenge. Done!!

After seeing my mixed bouquet in Cee’s daily flower challenge, Forgottenman challenged me to write a poem making use of the name of every flower in the bouquet.  Okay F-man, here it is. I rise to every challenge!!! (The names of the flowers in the bouquet are in bold print.)

Zinnia was the fairest maid the town had ever grown.
She flirted with the mill boy and claimed him as her own.
She rose and fed their baby with a silver spoon
each morning as her husband lay abed ’til noon.
To wake him up, she lay their child well within his reaches.
He woke to that sweet baby’s breath-—just redolent of peaches.
Brushing off her flour-dusted lover, Zinnia sent him on his way
to grind more grain for townsfolk who had the means to pay,
for although her dusty miller was not the working kind,
true love will not buy Gerbers nor diaper a behind.

Here is the bouquet again:


Bouquet of zinnias, roses, baby’s breath, dusty miller, Gerber daisies.  jdb photo

Another response to Cee’s daily flower prompt.

CFFC Challenge, Colors That Begin With “B”: Beige

Click on first photo to enlarge all and view as slide series.


The challenge was to take photos of the backs of things. Some of these are way too small in this collage.  Click on the first photo to enlarge them all and see captions.

Big, Big World: WP Daily Prompt, Nov 5, 2016


Big, Big World

Remember when your world was new
how in the world surrounding you
everything seemed bigger then?
It often seems that way again
when we see things nostalgically,
for memory boosts them mightily.
Our mother’s lap or father’s knee
becomes a world–a rolling sea
as we remember rocking there—
a child traveling in their care.

The rooms of childhood were immense,
and all the traumas more intense.
Curtailed play and spilled ice creams
were tragedies expressed by screams.
Time stretched out like a highway then,
however short time might have been
for parents, who saw us grow up quickly.
Time surrounded us more thickly.

The days of summer passed so slow
from sunrise up to candle glow.
Voices echoed in failing light
as we took that last long flight
down the road from England’s hill.
It seemed to last for hours until
we reached the bottom and pedaled home
under that vast dimming dome
that soon the starlight would fill in
until the slow sun rose again.

The night was darker and longer then,
as we contemplated sin
that our prayers brought to mind,
and that inevitably would wind
into our dreams to swell and swell
until they became a hell—
our terrors spreading in the night
until our moms turned on the light,
still maintaining they weren’t there at all
as they followed her back down the hall.

All things were large when we were small–
those tiny cuts, that minor fall.
A childish spat heartbreaking when
you could have been where they were then
but couldn’t because you’d had a fight.
and they were wrong and you were right!

And though  rage hadn’t lasted long,
they had to say that they were wrong!
And so you sobbed and fussed and pouted,
while outside, the others shouted
gleefully from swings and slide.
The pain more than you could abide.

When we were eight or six or three,
the whole world was hyperbole.
And now that we are fully grown,
living free and on our own,
hopefully we’ve learned to season
ire with pardon, dreams with reason.
And before it all blows up,
let us hope the world grows up!

The prompt today is “hyperbole


Forgottenman gave me a prompt tonight, just for the fun of it. and said he’d do it, also. The word he gave me was cul de sac, and here’s my poem, for what it’s worth. (It’s 1:34 a.m., I had 4 hours of sleep last night and I hope I’m about to get a better night’s sleep tonight.)



Stuck here in this cul-de-sac,
my mental skills are out of whack,
and I don’t seem to have the knack
for learning lessons as I look back.

I’m tortured as if on the rack.
My muscles wrench and joints all crack
my loosening bones go click clack clack.
With prospects dim, my soul is black.

Value in life is what I lack.
My life’s comprised of bric-a-brac.
I circle round and round the track,
until I’ve lost my will to quack.

The prompt word today is “trust.” It may not be obvious what this poem has to do with the prompt word today, but actually it has everything to do with trusting yourself and your own unique views of life and to resist “losing your quack” and settling back into being like everyone else.  The narrator of this poem is not me. It is only who I am determined not to become.

Since both the illustration and the shape of the poem are trees, I think it is also appropriate for Becca’s Sunday Tree Challenge.