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All One Color
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“This Little Light of Mine” For Lenz Artist Challenge #176
This Little Light of Mine
I was purified each Sunday, sitting on a child-sized wooden chair, belting out “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.” Sure of salvation, my only worry was whether I’d forget the Bible verse memorized by repeating it every morning and every night for the preceding week.
I was glorious holy, worrying about my dad, who put the harvest before church, trying to pray him back from a future Hell. Yes, there were happy ladies shepherding us up the back stairs from Sunday School to real church above; but there were also those who gave us brief flashes of the fires of Hell, who denied that perfect attendance bar for my Sunday School pin even when my excuse was a verified hospital stay to have my tonsils out. Muriel, the preacher’s daughter and my oldest sister’s best friend, stealing the bar to add to my Sunday School pin, anyway. Surely this member of a holy family herself validity enough to certify my perfect attendance in intention if not in fact.
Where did it go, that round white enamel pin with the surrounding gold cluster for the second year and new bar hanging down each year thereafter for perfect attendance? I wore it with such pride. Did it blow away in the tornado that lifted my parents’ roof that year long after I had left? Was it stolen in the burglary at my house where 70 rings were stolen? Did divine intervention finally lift it from my possession?
The only certainty is that this pack rat did not throw it away. I am an artist of little things, joining them together to create stories of my life, the world and thoughts above this world. They are little lights of mine shining words and memories—little song medleys that belt the lyrics as surely as that basement room of children, sure in their conviction that somewhere out there in the universe, someone or something was watching them shine.
Turkey Talk for Tuesday Writing Prompt
Turkey Talk
When we walk, our wattles wobble
causing us to “Gobble gobble,”
but seeing axes near our neck,
we hit the road and run like heck!
We await November with much gloom,
for your Thanksgiving seals our doom.
It is a truth that we all rue
that then our gobbling ‘s done by you.
For the Tuesday Writing Prompt,Nov 23, 2021: Write a poem from the point of view of a turkey.
Succulents: FOTD Nov 30, 2021
Missed Americas
Missed Americas
Now that they are runway-bound,
those extravagantly gowned
are oft-driven to expound
with words not overly profound
about beliefs they’ve newly found
(overheard and swiftly downed)
just because they love the sound,
hoping in the final round,
their golden tongues will get them crowned.
For the dVerse Poets Quadrille Challenge: Crown.
Image from BBC.
Boxes of Pepper- for Judy.
Andrew took my photo of a pepper plant and altered and added to it to make art. I am reblogging his post where he shows the fabulous result. Thanks, Andrew…Go Here:
https://brotherandrewspix3.wordpress.com/2021/11/29/boxes-of-pepper-for-judy/
to see his entire post.
Bake-Off
Bake-Off
“Spot on!” she said and doffed her hat and focused on her goal.
The loss of her attention was sure to take its toll
at this phase of her endeavor, so, intent upon her role,
she broke another egg into the center of the bowl
where the flour and the sugar had formed a sort of hole,
whipped it until frothy and then began to roll
wet and dry together to form a small atoll,
then folded it all over to form a solid whole.
She took so naturally to baking that the process soothed her soul,
and the brilliance of her artistry, the whole world did extoll.
If her genius were a recipe, yeast would have been its soul.
Prompt words today are loss, spot, naturally, phase and focus.
Ben Dykstra’s Bottom
All of Ben Dykstra!!!
When Dwight Roth of Rothpoetry commented on this old post it caused me to read it again and I laughed so hard that I had to reblog it again. Who can’t use a good laugh? Thanks, Dwight, for bringing it to mind again. (Be sure to read the part about the church bulletin snafus…the part about dad is just an intro to it.)
Every region has its own vernacular and sometimes we are not aware of how familiar terms of our childhood might be to others. My dad was a farmer/rancher in South Dakota where a low-lying field or land near a river was called a “bottom.” My dad loved a good joke, but not so much when it was on him; thus, while we laughed until we were ill, he never cracked a smile as he read the following news in The Murdo Coyote, our local small-town newspaper: “The men are busy this week moving dirt on Ben Dykstra’s bottom.”
One local wit was heard to observe that his bottom must be a sizeable one to afford that amount of activity for that length of time.
Another small town diversion, other than the local newspaper, was the church bulletin. Typed and mimeographed by a volunteer before the age of the…
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“Rolling.” Fibbin’ Black Friday, Nov 26, 2021
Put the cloves individually into the roller
Here are the Fibbing Friday questions for this week:
1. What is rolling stock? Cattle after they’ve been loaded onto train cars and the train is in motion.
2. What is a rolling deck ? A convenient place for rolling doobies on your lap during a poker game.
3. What is role play ? When actors mess around instead of learning their lines.
4. What is ‘on a roll? Caraway or sesame seeds, unless it’s a cinnamon roll, in which case it would be frosting.
5. What does a rolling stone gather? Carsick groupies.
6. What is a rolling boil? Whole crab served on a train.
7. What is a rolling pin? A really bad bowling score.
8. What is a steam roller? A passé method of curling one’s hair.
9. What is a roller coaster? A round disk meant to be placed under your drink that has been positioned vertically rather than horizontally.
10. What is a roller skate? A beached fish.
Talking Turkey: Flashback Friday, Nov 26, 2021
For Fandango’s Flashback Friday we are asked to reblog a post we made exactly a year ago. Oddly, enough, I found that I’ve written three different poems on this date for the past three years and they are all named “Talking Turkey!” This is the one I wrote exactly one year ago today on November 26.
Talking Turkey
I’d rather be footloose, I’d rather be free.
No more will I languish on any man’s knee.
I’ll eat all of my gravy and none of my peas,
get up and retire whenever I please.
I’ll retrieve no one’s underwear off of the floor.
When I use the potty, I won’t shut the door.
I won’t cover my mouth when I burp or I sneeze.
I’ll open the window to enjoy the breeze
or shut my house up as tight as a drum,
eat all the cookies to the last crumb.
I’ll dine for a month on my Turkey Day turkey.
I’ll be selfish and weird and eccentric and quirky.
For as much as I love human interactions,
living alone has its own satisfactions.
Prompt words today are: human, gravy, retrieve and footloose.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 