For Cee’s FOTD
Photo by Lynn
Lighthouse Point
A rocket shape
stabs the landscape,
white and stark.
But in the dark,
its road of light
cuts through the night.
Strong and sure,
confusion’s cure,
it guides the lost
and tempest-tossed
to safety’s shore,
the stuff of lore.
A beacon streaming,
bright and beaming,
guiding lost souls
past coral shoals
through froth and foam,
securely home.
I’m enlivened by my lineaments. They show where I have smiled.
Without them, I am sure my face would be too bland and mild.
It surely would be awkward if I had no tracks or lines.
A face would be so boring without channel marks or vines.
Wrinkles liven up a face. They show where it has been.
They tell what’s happened in one’s life, but don’t tell where or when.
They leave up to mouths and hands to embellish the story
with details more specific—more romantic, funny, gory.
Your face is the epitome of how you’ve lived your life.
It shows the tracks of pleasures, of sadness and of strife.
Without the stories that they tell, there’d be no place to look
anywhere on your body to read you like a book!
Word prompts today are lineament, epitome, awkward and liven.
Zoo Snafu
When first he thought he’d try to woo,
he took his date out to the zoo.
He paid her way and opened doors,
protected her from wild boars
that were, of course, all kept in cages,
viewers safe from all their rages.
Nonetheless he fantasized
that his date must be surprised
at his bravery and daring-do
as demonstrated at the zoo.
Later on, he thought it best
that they should have a little rest.
To fuel them for their promenade,
bought hot dogs, fries and lemonade,
then found a bench and sat them down
somewhere near to monkey town.
He found a napkin and tucked it in
somewhere between her neck and chin,
daubed mustard from her upper lip,
Oh, he was gallant, polite, hip!
Then, after they had had a rest
he thought perhaps it would be best
to resume their stroll to view
the llamas and the kangaroo.
When they loitered for awhile
‘tween hippos and the crocodile,
he thought it might not be remiss
to try to steal a little kiss.
And self-assured she wouldn’t mind,
he worried about just what kind.
Should it be passionate or peck?
Oh her lips or on her neck?
Would it be a sin of remission
not to ask for her permission?
And should his hands go high or low?
How was a kiss-rookie to know?
So, in the end, he shook her hand
between the gnu and the eland.
Then they resumed their galavanting—
monkey, lion, elephanting—
Better not to act in haste.
Thus this first date, alas, was chaste.
Click on photos to enlarge.
Here is the link for the Zoom launch for The Poeming Pigeon’s Pop Culture Edition. I have two poems in the book and I’m reading at the 22 minute mark. Please overlook my flubs!!! Judy
Selective Memorabilia
Leftover bits of brilliant past acts
help enliven today’s less illustrious facts.
In avoiding the present, we can overlook
the unplanned digressions that our lives took.
Memory’s like an expandable shelf
where we can stack up our reminders of self.
We can keep all the good stuff and throw out the bad—
all of the upsets and down times we’ve had.
We can tack up our ribbons, trash each demerit
and just hoard a memory if we can bear it!
Prompt words for today are leftover, avoid, brilliant and enliven. The photo is a detail from one of my mixed media collages.
Morning Ritual
Boy cat awakes at six o’clock
to begin his morning walk
across my former sleeping self,
then jumps down from my bedside shelf
to continue his aggressive sass.
Wrestles the rug, then bats the brass
light cord, yowls and kneads the sheet
until I rise. Admit defeat.
He leads me to the kitchen door.
I let him out , but do no more.
I don’t renew his empty dish.
No new beef and no new fish
adorn its naked metal sheen.
It’s six o’clock! I’m feeling mean.
Back to bed until at eight
the dogs begin their loud debate.
The girl cat’s where the boy cat’s been,
taunting them from here within.
She jumps up on the headboard table,
disconnects my laptop cable,
turns off its screen and then what’s more,
knocks the lampshade to the floor.
Jumps down and then attacks the rug—
A slide-attack, a pull, a tug—
until once more it’s hillocked, rumpled.
twisted, skewed, distressed and crumpled.
Now the dogs both go ballistic
and I, alas, become realistic.
Thrust myself up from my bed,
and after both the dogs are fed,
I give in to the cats’ loud din—
one cat out and one cat in.
One says good-bye, one says hello. One seeks to come, the other go!
When I shop, I buy the flavor I know their highnesses most favor.
Walk barefoot over the cold floor,
open up the outside door,
and, stepping out to feed the cats,
I open up the cupboard that’s
located by the kitchen door,
to grab the cat food can, but then
as one cat exits, one rushes in!
I spoon the goop into one dish
to tail-swaying and whisker swish.
Pour kibble in another one,
step back inside and watch the fun.
Seeking nutritional renewal, they fall upon their kitty gruel
Sharing a dish, cats bob and sway
in graceful pas de deux display.
Alternating, dish-to-dish
from wet to dry, whate’er their wish.
And finally, the herd all fed,
exhausted, I go back to bed!
Prompt words for today are goodbye/hello, brass, renewal and favor.
