image from Twitter
Saint Donald
They’re pious and as pure as snow viewed from any angle.
They do not cuss or drink or swear. They have no sins to wrangle.
Untempted by debauchery, they have no ills to speak of.
It’s a sanctimonious ardor that they reek of.
The patron saint they’ve mounted atop an oil pump
waiting to be canonized, of course, is Donald Trump!
photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash.
Falling Star
We saw her in the movies. Her name was in the news.
This pulchritudinous starlet was hogging all the views
on youtube and on other social media sites—
the drinking and missed call times, the drugs and barroom fights.
Until America’s darling became a laughing stock—
a harried aging party girl for tabloids to mock.
Another crumbling idol turned to dust by fame.
Another aging loser of the movie game.
Today’s Word Prompts: news, pulchritudinous.
San Juan Cosalá, Jalisco, Mexico, July 18, 2019. Click on photo to enlarge.
For Thursday Doors
Finishing What God Started
Once the polar ice has melted and the animals departed,
It’s only right that we continue on with what we’ve started.
It will be the biggest news that humankind has won.
We’ll eradicate the universe, and our job will be done!
Prompt words for today are melt, news, universe and eradicate.
Click on flowers to enlarge.
Bob from the Love Will Bring Us Together blog identified this plant for me. Here is his information:
Holmskioldia Sanguinea Retz commonly called the Chinese hat plant, cup-and-saucer-plant or Mandarin’s hat!. It’s a member of the Mint family ( Lamiaceae ) and is the only species in the genus Holmskioldia!
http://thedreamweaverwrites.blogspot.com/2014/10/kharam-leishok-holmskioldia-sanguinea.html
See Bob’s blog HERE and if you have a plant you can’t identify, he has a section of his blog to report it in and he’s a super plant sleuth. I’ve never found one he couldn’t identify.
Armistice
The rain is falling drop on drop.
It’s lessened but it doesn’t stop.
No lightning breaks the coal dark sky,
no noise of cars nor passers-by.
I have the night here all alone,
activity stripped to the bone.
No barking dogs, no shouts and cheers
of parties shifting up their gears.
The whole world’s snuggled under covers,
strangers, enemies and lovers.
For this night, disputes delayed.
All our petty gripes allayed.
Rain the perfect arbitrator,
our woes will have to find us later.
For Cee’s FOTD
Seventy-two years old, and I still get the same thrill out of staying up late that I did when I was five years old. There is something magical about still being awake when everyone else in the house has been asleep for hours. Things go on in the night that they will never know about. The heavy rain beating on the bulbous skylight of the domed ceiling, the moths fluttering around the chandelier over the patio table, the mystery of cool night air that makes a saga out of what might have been an ordinary night spent in dreams forgotten in the light of day.
The only prompt word ready at this very early hour is saga.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 