For NaPoWriMo Day Three :surreal poem. jdb image
Stop Over
Near sunset as the bright light fades, both minds and sky grow hazy,
and all the world shifts down a gear, relaxing into lazy.
Just one urgent swirling bee seems bent upon its tasking.
She lunges downward towards my drink, and lands there without asking.
She lowers her proboscis in order to withdraw
one drop of rum and cola that lies beaded on my straw.
A screaming gull unnerves her—sets her angel wings unfurling,
but her frenzied efforts to lift off have set my mind to swirling.
Her movements are ungainly. She leans as though to fall.
Then clumsily, she flies away, colliding with the wall.
I question if she’s sober as she flies off upside down,
digressing over water, then careening toward the town.
It’s probable this summer day under a July sun
has fermented all her nectar and added to her fun.
Her slight detour while flying off to her abode
No doubt was her attempt to have just one more for the road!**
**Can Bees Get Drunk? In the summer heat, nectar can begin to ferment and create ethanol. Bees that digest this fermented nectar will experience the same effects as humans do when they consume alcohol. Also, tree sap, like that of the lime tree, can also ferment under excessive heat leading to crowds of drunk bees. How can you tell when a bee is drunk? Studies conducted on bees have shown that alcohol consumption has a similar affect on bees as it does on humans. When a drunken bee returns to its hive, the guard bees around the hive will identify it by its erratic motion and will not allow it to enter.
To see what led up to this poem, you must first go to Forgottenman’s blog and peek in on a Skype conversation we had prior to my writing it. Go HERE to see his blog, then hurry back here. (In case you wonder who Remi is, that’s what Forgottenman calls me. Long story…
To Kiss or Not to Kiss.
Please forgive my oscillation
due to my slight trepidation
concerning your excitation
due to your anticipation
of a proposed osculation.
But I fear your oscitation
creates a slight oppilation
blocking much of my elation
concerning your machination.
Will there be conciliation
or gradual occultation
leading to my castigation
and reduction of your station
as simply a tiny ration
of my love life education?
Below are the words he prescribed to be included in a poem, along with their definitions, which he did not bother to provide. Must say, I had never heard of four of them:
Oscillation: to move back and forth between two points, like a pendulumTo vary between two states, amounts, feelings, or opinions
To be undecided about something, or waver between conflicting positions or courses of action
Osculation: kiss
Oscitation: the act of being inattentive.
Oppilation: the act of crowding or filling together, an obstruction, particularly in the lower intestines.
Occultation: the state of being hidden from view or lost to notice.
Conciliation: the action of stopping someone from being angry; placation, the action of mediating between two disputing people or groups.re settled through conciliation by the official body”
These are additional rhyming words added by me. None of them obscure, so no definitions necessary: anticipation elation trepidation education excitation castigation machination station ration.
Clarity?
I don’t really need a chip to know what you are thinking,
for when I ask, “Should I wear this?” your left eyelid starts blinking
like it does whenever you tell a little fib;
and I can tell your “It looks great!” sounds a little glib.
That’s how I know without a doubt you’re spinning a fine yarn;
and that, in fact, in this dress I must look wide as a barn.
If you say this dish is great but feed most to the dogs—
if you say I’m clever but you rarely read my blogs—
if you “want” to get together but we rarely do—
I’ve already read the clues to ascertain your view.
Yet, still I have the option to see the other side
and find a way to look at it that will preserve my pride.
Your eye might blink because a gnat got caught in it just now,
and so I do not really look as broad as any cow.
He just has a small appetite. Her eyesight might be failing.
She might be out of town and when she gets home from her sailing,
she’ll call me up and we will meet and have a laugh or two.
Without perfect clarity I get to choose my view
of believing what I want to in spite of what I’ve guessed.
When it comes to friendship, less clarity is best!
For RDP:Clarity
Toothpick
A blade of wheat that my dad found
spread out alone upon the ground
was no doubt relieved and thrilled
that it wound up, instead of milled,
stuck between my dad’s front choppers,
better there than in the hoppers
of the flour mill’s grinding wheels—
a sacrifice to future meals.
A fate as toothpick far superior
to a stomach’s dark interior!!
The three word for the 3 Things Challenge are: Thrilled, Milled, Ground
During wheat harvesting, my dad often had a stem of wheat, head attached, sticking out from between his two front teeth. Caught in the act of picking his teeth, it was a handy storage place. Other times of the year, his front pocket always contained a few toothpicks to first use, then suck on, switching them from side to side between his lips. This prompt was made just for me!!!
Timekeepers
My dogs have clocks for stomachs.
I don’t know how they do it.
They value things by the extent
to which a dog can chew it.
Their feeding time is 8 AM
and without exception,
at precisely 7:59,
they demand my attention
by pouncing on my stomach,
rousing me from sleep
so our kibbles appointment
I am sure to keep.
It happens every morning,
daily without exception.
It does no good for me to try
to practice a deception
by pulling covers over head
and feigning a deep sleep,
for my canine companions
have agendas I must keep.
Grumbling, I roll out of bed
to pee and then to sprint
to fulfill their 8 o’clock feeding
with no further hint!
So, seeing that I post each day
faithfully by nine,
do not merely credit me.
My incentive is canine.
Image by Cintage 72 Prompters: Zoe and Coco!!!
The Roads Both Taken (Rejecting Manic-depression)
Two roads diverged in my mellow mood,
and happy I could then travel both,
I laughed. Then I commenced to brood,
and found, at length that I was loath
to forego one and choose them both!!!!
(Overview. Bipolar disorder (formerly called manic-depressive illness or manic depression) is a mental illness that causes unusual shifts in a person’s mood, energy, activity levels, and concentration. These shifts can make it difficult to carry out day-to-day tasks. There are three types of bipolar disorder.)
For Forgottenman’s Prompt, he wanted us to do a switcheroo on Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” by writing a poem using the lines “Two roads diverged in my mellow mood,
and happy I could then travel both,” as our first two lines. Above is my submission to the prompt.
To see my parody of “Mending Wall” go here: https://judydykstrabrown.com/2014/09/17/mending-pants-with-apologies-to-robert-frost/
And now click on this link to see the prompt and make your own submission: https://okcforgottenman.wordpress.com/2023/10/13/the-roads-both-taken-a-poetry-prompt-challenge-offering/
Jail Break
All these words are borrowed. They are not really mine.
They came all neatly packaged in an orderly line
where they were held hostage, gathered up and wrapped—
a lexicography in waiting with its power oddly sapped.
Words slack with grief, all gathered in a long veiled sigh,
as though lined up like prisoners, scheduled to die.
Bare pockets empty of bare change, stripped of all their worth,
words that once soared to lofty heights were now brought down to earth.
But here I am their savior, for it’s been left to me
and other hero poets to set their power free.!
The words for The Sunday Whirl Wordle 623 are: slack grief hostage gather bare heights wrapped words pockets long veiled sigh
No Escape
I’ve vowed that I will have no more
of all the things that I abhor.
Indeed, these things that I detest
that in the past came to infest
my head and home and my whole life,
causing pain and stress and strife,
I left behind when I moved South,
and merely hear by word-of-mouth.
And in return, I trade for tales
of my South-of-the-border travails.
For the Three Things Challenge the words are: ABHOR DETEST INFEST
Out on a Ledge
(A Mountainous Misadventure)
You’ve provoked me out upon this ledge
and forced me to survey the edge,
but I’m the biggest coward of all,
fast-forwarding to view the fall!
My eyes scroll over far below
the distance that I’d have to go
if I were to tip myself
off this narrow mountainous shelf.
That edge looks crumbly to me,
and instills in me a need to pee.
The sun’s rays swell into a fire,
that well may be my funeral pyre.
My buzzing brain shows lack of trust.
A throbbing heart dictates I must
be off to flee this place I hate.
I just remembered a previous date!
Get me out of here real fast,
or this date will be our last.
When you said we should get high,
I didn’t know you meant the sky!!!
I keep telling myself I’m going to stop doing these, but they are irresistible. The words for The Sunday Whirl Wordle this week are: provoke ledge eyes rays scroll need throbbing buzz fire hate trust fall
jdb photo
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 