Free the Birds
“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” a psychic said to me.
Then my psychiatrist said the same, but for a bigger fee.
When people preach to me like this, I get set in my ways.
I’m never going to take advice from folks who spout clichés!
The birds that I have had in hand number very few.
I can’t recall a single time I combed a bush for two.
I have no wish to take a walk in another’s shoe.
I’m simply loathe to think in adages as others do.
I’ve never thought the grass was greener in my neighbor’s yard,
and spouting other people’s words does not make you a bard.
I don’t think quoting adages makes us any wiser.
If my neighbor’s lawn is greener, I’ll just use more fertilizer.
So please don’t give me your advice using a hackneyed phrase,
for all this glib advice just sorta puts me in a daze.
And if you simply must advise, my character to hone,
please do me a big favor and just use words of your own!!!
Donald’s Time Out
Everyone knows that you reap what you sow.
This platitude’s spoken wherever we go.
And when it is cotton you bury so deep,
It’s also true that you’ll sew what you reap.
You must get despondent when things don’t go right,
for the seeds that you’ve sown are what you must bite.
If you plant bitter melons, you’ll meet with defeat
if sweeter fruit is what you want to eat.
Whatever is planted at your behest
is what you will yield at your own request.
Whatever you’ve buried will rise to the top.
Benevolent actions will yield a kind crop.
But harm done to others, you’ll likely rue,
as the other one acted upon will be you!
You are part of the world where you’re planting your seed,
and you’ll bear the brunt of your terrible greed.
It’s a different dark harvest the world is now reaping.
It’s been getting a foothold while you have been sleeping.
As you wielded your golf clubs, its roots have spread wide.
It lifted its branches as millions have died.
It crept out of cages as children bemoaned
the fact they were hungry and cold and alone.
It was watered by rivers poisoned and polluted,
as reason was smothered and good sense diluted.
So reap your cruel harvest. What fate is now serving
is certainly what you have long been deserving.
So you’ll sit at the table until you’ve diminished
the junk on your plate, and once you have finished,
please clean up the beaches and oceans and air,
for the evils you’ve planted have spread everywhere.
You’ll sit at that table until you confess
your part in creating this terrible mess!
Pull your chair to the table and eat ’til you choke.
The evils you’ve done are more than a joke.
The fruits of your labor have made a vile stew.
Please forgive us if we refuse dining with you!!!
Words of the day are harvest, despondent, benevolent, behest and difference. Image by Joyce Romero on Unsplash.
This is her completed piece
Thank you Judy Dykstra-Brown, this challenge came at the beginning of the quarantine , if approached now, it would be a totally different outcome. It was a fun silly project, making me miss our lovely art group. We had such fun creating art and community. Judy called several artist to see if they were up for the challenge. We each cleaned out our art supplies, which usally consist of lots of recycled oddities. Leftover collecting practices I guess for me, of being a preschool Director/teacher collecting items for art projects. Which in turns, contributes to me being a mixed media artist. Each artist who participated in this challenge, shared their collective art stash with the other artist. We then were to come up with some piece of art out of those items. This challenge came durning the time I learned my beautiful cousin became ill and hospitalized, being placed on a ventilator. No, she didn’t have the virus, but a heart condition. Her family could not visit her, because of hospital rules during the virus. This project helped me durning this time, making it was a mindless creative outlet, I would hum to myself, Simon and Garfunkel’s song, “Rosie, Queen of Corona” thinking of Debby as I created, willing Debby to breath on her own. It’s a silly piece of art, no museum piece. Nor will it last the ages, but a simple diversion of what was going on in the world. My beautiful cousin lost her life, on the eve of Mother’s Day. She left behind a husband, two children, two grandchildren, a brother, and her sweet mother, and many many extended family members who loved her. My heart still hurts over this. No, this art does not reflect Debby, but the process has a memory of keeping her in prayer durning her last days. My heart still hurts that she is no longer with us.
Here is Debby’s photo with her husband when they were younger.
HERE is my original blog with Candace’s piece in it. To see more closeups of her piece, go to that blog.
I tried so hard to find something orchid that was not a flower, but didn’t do a very good job of it!! Click on photos to enlarge.
For Tourmaline’s Color Your World Prompt
river
River Travelers
They know this river, know it well.
Daily, they bring their fruit to sell.
We, who find the river strange
reach out our bills as we lack change,
for what they’ve brought to us from shore.
They hand out more and more and more
to strangers whom they must find dense
to give them such great recompense
for what God has amply provided.
All their village has derided
those who float by in big boats,
holding out their ten sol notes
that would buy every bunch they carry.
They wonder why we do not tarry
for our change after we pay.
Silent, they watch us float away.
The baby held in mother’s arms
does not know what nearby harms
lurk beneath the water’s cloak—
the jaws that snap, the water’s soak.
But we know what small guarantee
exists in lives of poverty.
Rubbed raw, perhaps, by all we have,
our generosity is salve.
