Category Archives: Uncategorized

Shooing With Tongue on the Tongue of a Shoe.

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Shooing with Tongue on the Tongue of a Shoe

There once was a mooch named McGerhard McFloo
who spent his whole life on the tongue of a shoe
where he shooed away flintlocks and floogles and stuff.
As a matter of fact, he would get downright rough.

He would beat them with bagels and flog them with floggles
from the foot of their feet to the top of their toggles.
Then he bopped them again every minute or two
till those flintocks and floogles were beat black and blue.

But they just wouldn’t leave till that mooch McFloo sung
a rock-a-bye ballad with only one lung.
Then they leapt and they lithered until they were gung.
Now McGerhard McFloo only shoos with his tongue!

 

This is one I wrote a while ago. Hope that is kosher??? Certainly, it is nonsensical:For the W3 Prompt: Nonsense Poem

To see more nonsense poems or to submit your own, go HERE.

Now I Know Why They Call Them Swallows!!!

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We have a new family in the neighborhood, perched atop Sergio and David’s long-handled dusters. Luckily, they are in a spot where my cats can’t reach them, so they’ve resorted to a rest period.

Cat times Four!!

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No time to blog as I have kids art camp so I’m reblogging this blog from years ago when Kukla, Fran, Ollie and Roo finally had their shots and were neutered and spayed so they could live outside. Here is their adventure:

Détente and the Wide Wide World of Cats

 

For RDP: Cat.

Busy Day All Around!

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When I tried to get in a little quiet time in the hot tub before a very busy day, the doggies joined me. Morrie tried to join in but then deserted for a little Zen time of his own.

Leaf Fall, Snow Fall––For Wordle 615

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Leaf Fall, Snow Fall

Voracious winds split open to spill their crumbled spoils,
unfurling leaf confetti in airborne swirls and coils.
They empty them on lawn and deck, a sign of  what is coming
when winter drops its glittering load—beautiful and numbing.
I do not fear chill prospects, for I’ll be warm and snug
as my house wraps arms around me in its protective hug.

 

For the Sunday Whirl 615 the prompts are: grim glittering crumble empties confetti voracious unfurls wind split mind sign deck

Up on the Rooftop

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Click on photos to enlarge.

Yesterday I had a “Collectors of Mexican Folk Art” group visit my house and forgot to close the gate to the upstairs casita after they left. Today while I was in Ajijic, I received the first three photos above from my next door neighbor. Guess Zoe and Coco wanted to go up and meet Frida.  For those of you who don’t know, Frida (who died a few years ago) used to spend most of her time up on my dome over my bedroom surveying the surrounding scene. That is her you see in the final photo, taken by me years ago. Since my house is on the side of a mountain, she could see for miles, all the way down to the lake and up to the top of the mountains. She loved to see the action of everyone who passed. 

When she died, I put her ashes into this statue of a dog who looked like her and was about her size and cemented it to the top of my dome.  It is accessible by a stairway up the side of my house which leads to the terrace outside the casita. Frida would jump up on the ledge and scurry up onto the dome–a trick she learned from the cats when she was an only-puppy and thought she was a cat. Once when I was at another neighbors, I saw Morrie up there with Zoe and Coco, who never met Frida in the Flesh. They evidently learned the way and at the next opportunity, visited her by themselves. As you can see by the second to the final photo that shows the statue of Frida minus her guests, it is a long way up to the top of the dome!

 

First three photos were taken yesterday by David Bershad. Thanks, David. Last two photos are earlier shots taken by me.

Number 9 Blues

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Number 9 Blues

Those eyes,
that song,
A bird the color
of the moon
we met under.

The wind
a ribbon of sadness.
Cold hands,
broken heart—
all the hue
of a trumpet’s lonely staccato.

For Stream of Consciousness Saturday: Pick a Number.

Silhouettes of Trees

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Can’t stop posting photos of trees!  Someone stop me, please.

For CBWC: Silhouettes

“Done begins with do.”

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Click on photos to enlarge.

I did this post for Wednesday Quotes, but after compiling it, realized there is a theme of “Alone.”  Oh well, since most of my time is spent alone and what I do when I’m alone is to write or work in my art studio, I guess by some stretch of the imagination, it works.

“Done Begins with Do” was the motto chosen by my class when we graduated from high school and I’ve been following that advice my entire life. I think it applies to the other two quotes, so I’ve included it as well.

“When you’re tired, learn to rest. Don’t quit.”

I have the above line of advice taped to my desk beside my computer. On the other side of it is  the one  below from The Autumn Garden by Lillian Hellman. (I have since read that the line was actually written by Dashiell Hammett to help her during a period of slight writer’s block.)

“That big hour of decision, the turning point in your life, the someday you’ve counted on when you’d suddenly wipe out your past mistakes, do the work you’d never done, think the way you’d never thought, have what you’d never had––it doesn’t come suddenly. You’ve trained yourself for it while you waited, or you’ve let it all run past you and frittered yourself away.”

Vidalia Onions: Short Poem, Long Story.

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Vidalia Onion Dicer. No More Tears!

The onions fall down into the collection receptacle.

Sauerkraut and mustard, ketchup, onions, relish—
a hotdog was created merely to embellish.

The tears came later, when the bill came. Go HERE to read the story of the thirty dollar hot dog. And you’ll just have to imagine the story of my my recent forty-dollar corn dog eaten at a hotel in Billings, Montana. Pictured below, its story is too painful to relate. No onions, this time.

My thirty dollar (Canadian) hot dog.
And—-my forty dollar (U.S.) corn dog!

 Here is the link for the prompt, and here are more poems on the subject for dVerse Poets: Vidalia Onions