I was walking by my friend Isidro’s studio/gallery one day when I saw these little paws sticking out from under his door. Very shortly thereafter, this little boy came by and the rest of the story took place. So touching. He knew right where to stick his finger in the kitty’s underside of his paw to bring obvious pleasure to his friend. Had to add a shot of my kitty Annie as well..waiting on the wall to be fed. I think more photos will follow, but I have to catch a plane now..See you later.
Love Poem to Poets
Who am I to judge you as you tinker with words…
reveal their bounce and loop de loop
from Heaven to brutal Hell?
May your poetry never end,
but instead stream in strings of metaphors ,
down that track from up to down
from brain to welcoming heart,
driving the truth to every corner of the world.
For the Sunday Whirl, prompt words are: judge tinker bounce loop heaven brutal end stream string track welcome drive
And also, for dVerse Poets, because these prompt words seemed to lead me back to your prompt as well.
To Get a Poem
Leave the dirty dishes in the sink.
A dishwasher washes the poems away.
Allow cat hair to accumulate on the footstool.
Cat hair is a city for poems.
Let plants go another day before watering,
lest poems in the soil should be flushed away.
Let lie the crumpled sock a friend’s child
left in the sleeping loft.
Don’t destroy the poem of it.
Don’t bother to rake leaves.
Poems cannot live in neat piles.
Leave the soup stain on your shirt .
Tomato and basil are ingredients of poetry.
There is a poem in the confetti of paper on the bedroom carpet
and in the bread crumbs and the orphaned straight pins.
Bills in the “TO BE PAID” folder?
Each is the embryo of a poem.
Paying them now would be poetry murder.
In my living room, there is more poetry
in the blankets of dust on glass tables
than the burnished surface of the clay vase.
There is more poetry, more poetry, more poetry
than can ever be tidied up in this world or the next.
Falling poetry snarls in the weave of the hammock.
All of this raw poetry lies around us, primed for the collecting.
Messy poetry and dusty.
You won’t die from, but you could live on
poetry that’s hidden in the messy corners of your world.
And, since Mr. Linky shut down before I could post it, Here is another: https://judydykstrabrown.com/2026/06/28/love-poem-to-poets/
for dVerse Poets, the assignment is: The Prompt: Write an Ars Poetica that reveals your writing process through imagery, symbolism, or personalization.
Sal Mineo
The Fibbing Friday Fodder for today is:
Your thoughts on defining these please
1. Ricochet. Doilies crocheted out of rickrack.
2. Paradox. Dr. Strangelove meets Ben Casey
3. Influence. Being ill with swine or bird flu.
4. Calculus What two CPIs in love call themselves
5. Imminent. Emnt
6. Fluctuate. To first raise, then lower, then raise again the middle finger of one’s hand.
7. Ramshackle. A beat-up habitat for sheep
8. Salivate. Drooling over Mr. Mineo
9. Hypothesis. A scholarly treatise written about a huge aquatic animal living in Africa.
10. Gentry A polite man’s attempt.
Then, Then Although we (Judy and Daisy) have had many adventures in the past three days, not many photos were taken. Yesterday, we went shopping at an outside shop that sold Mexican blouses with Judy’s friend Blue. Daisy sat tied to a post and watched this guy having his lunch as the ladies shopped.
Then we went to a restaurant by the lake in Chapala. At the restaurant, Daisy shared a bit of Judy’s chicken. Then her leash released and when she ran out of the outside cafe, the couple sitting at the table closest to her jumped up and ran after her. We didn’t even know these people. So kind. Daisy tried to tell them she was coming right back and Judy knew this, but ran after her as well. She only made it about 4 feet beyond the restaurant. Blue fell in love with Daisy and said if Judy couldn’t find her family, that she would like to adopt her. She was the third person to say this. She is a popular girl!!!
This morning, when Miguel came to give Judy her weekly massage, Daisy demanded and received her own! She was much pleased. I think Miguel fell in love with her as well.
Then, a happy ending. This afternoon, Judy’s across the street neighbor, saw one of Judy’s signs and recognized Daisy as the dog of her friends. She called her friends and when Judy didn’t answer her phone because she was driving, she told them Judy’s address and they came and reclaimed their girl!
I am going to miss her sweet company, but so glad she’s back in another place where I’m sure she is much loved.
Note: Daisy is just the name I gave her so I’d have something more endearing than “hey, Pup!” to address her by. I asked the two young men who came to claim her what her name was. They told me, but unfortunately I’ve already forgotten. My house feels emptier without her…Sweet dreams, Daisy!
The End
Daisy’s family just came and claimed her. Two young men. So happy to have returned her to them, but so so sad as well.. Thanks to all who cared about her and commented. We had a few happy days together, but she wouldn’t let any of the other dogs near me…was very jealous. It has turned out as it should have. oxooxoxox Daisy. I asked her real name but have already forgotten. She will always be Daisy to me.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about go HERE. (In the post you are about to read, I called her Pixie. Later a friend said she’d name her Daisy and I agreed it suited her better.)
Erasures Impossible–Unless
If you are writing in a jiffy,
it may be your spelling’s iffy.
So, unless it doesn’t hurt
to have to scratch out and insert,
It would be wiser, don’t you think,
to write in pencil and not in ink?
For the Three Things Challenge the words were: INK. INSERT IFFY
We’re calling her Daisy, at least until her former owner reclaims her or I decide I can stand to give her up to a new home. She was a very good girl while Yolanda bathed her, but we found out that her coat must have been really matted before, as after she dried off, she really required a brushing. I discovered this when I took her along on a shopping trip to see how she’d do in public and made the mistake of wearing all black. Afterwards, I, too, required brushing! She was a good girl both at the store and in the restaurant afterwards.
For more info on who daisy is, go HERE.
Enough
At six o’clock, glib comments start to fill the air.
We’re hungry for frittata, but the table’s bare.
Darkness fills the kitchen, for mama’s gone on strike.
She’s gone off to the city. Alone, on papa’s bike.
It’s dicey whether she’ll return. She says she’s tired of cooking.
She’s in need of a vacation and so she made a booking
at a posh hotel that has its own cafe
where she will dine on coq au vin followed by crème brûlée.
For once, serving the rest of us will not be her fate.
Someone else will wait on her and she’ll just sit and wait.
In the morning she will order service in her room
where she’ll not even make her bed or wield dust cloth or broom.
Her note says then she might come home, or she might just wait
and find a nice seaside resort where she can cogitate
for another day or two. She says we shouldn’t worry.
The pizza place delivers if we’re not in a hurry.
Her recipe book’s on the shelf. The stove is under it.
Her apron’s in the closet and she’s sure that it will fit
each and every one of us while she is on vacation.
She says that fending for ourselves will be an education.
She says to wash the dishes even though it is a bore,
for if she sees a messy kitchen when she walks in the door,
she’s going to walk right out again until we prove we’ve learned
that things will be real different after Mama has returned!
Word Press’s “Blast from the Blog” asks that we reblog a post from a certain date from an earlier year. I published this poem on June 25, 2021–tomorrow’s date, as they publish the challenge a day before the prescribed date. The poem was supposed to include the five words seen below.
Prompts for today are six, glib, frittata, dicey and darkness.
