Sanctuary
What happened to dragons? What happened to fairies?
Banished by scientists and actuaries,
their truth of existence just can’t be computed.
The fact they exist is too soundly refuted.
Yet every child, awake in his bed,
knows they exist right there in his head!
The dVerse Poets prompt today was to write a quadrille (44 words) on the subject of dragons.
Empty Praise
There was a time when awesome really meant ”inspiring awe”—
events like the moon landing that made one drop one’s jaw,
sights of numbing beauty or achievements of great skill,
art pieces by the masters or achievements of great will.
Yosemite is awesome and so is Everest.
Those climbing it are “awesome.” You know they are the best.
But today the word has fallen into widespread use—
ubiquitous right to the point where it’s become abuse.
Rap music is most awesome, as is that way-cool blouse.
You drive an awesome car and live inside an awesome house.
My neighbor’s kids are awesome. So are her dog and cat.
Her tummy tuck is awesome, as is my purse and hat.
You might have guessed by now that awesome’s not my favorite word.
I think the overuse of it is frankly quite absurd.
This pizza is not awesome, though you may find me petty
for saying it is merely good, and so is the spaghetti.
Your child is lovely, so’s your dress, your silverware and smile.
But none of them are awesome—that word brings up my bile.
Please use some other word for it—some adjectival jaw full.
Because in my opinion, using awesome’s simply awful!!
Fandango’s prompt word for today is awesome, Since I wrote a poem five years ago about this very word, I’m reprinting it here with some minor changes.
Nancy Merrill is sponsoring a photo challenged entitled Nostalgia. Here is my take on the matter:
I think the year was around 1952. We were gathered for a play put on by the two cowgirls at the top of this photo. Susan, the tallest girl and also the older sister of one of the cowgirls, doesn’t look overly enthusiastic about being there. I was the little blonde girl overacting in the second row and the sister of the other cowgirl. I was their “mystery personality.” Anyone who guessed who I was (The Sunbeam Bread Girl) got a prize. They put on a few of these productions and I always thought they were wonderful. The year before, my mystery personality had been Bonnie Braids (of Dick Tracy fame.) When they called out, “Who knows who the mystery personality is?” Bobby Lathrop yelled out, “That’s Judy Dykstra!!!” and I cried. Ah, nostalgia
Retirement?
My future is amorphous. It has no shape or plan.
Up the creek without a paddle, I have no job or man.
My freedom? It is ludicrous. I’m well out of the chase.
All my time is leisure time. I live a slower pace.
Who named this phase re-tirement? There’s nothing that is tiring.
If they want to tire me out again, they’d best replace my wiring.
Prompt words today are chase, ludicrous, amorphous and paddle.
I found this peace lily right next to friends Harriet and Paul’s front door.
For Cee’s Flower of the Day prompt.
First Love
That frisson of excitement that I once knew so well—
that doubling of my pulse rate that rang me like a bell.
Back when there was no contest over which would win
when impulse clashed with custom. Back when passion was no sin.
The sum of all that feeling sent us crashing into life—
before you were a husband, before I was a wife.
Remember how exciting those first love wanderings were?
Those first stirrings of passion that made us stretch and purr
like felines on that blanket stretched out on the grass?
Our love was a religion and each touch a holy mass.
Our loving was eternal up until the time we parted
and each became a memory of when loving first started.
For Cee’s Flower of the Day prompt.
Travel Grump
Look at all those spendthrifts paying for the view
as though it is a contest to spend their cash anew
on hotel after hotel, on safaris, tours and cruises–—
climbing up Mount Everest, amassing scrapes and bruises.
I’ll keep my money in my pocket. I’ve worked for it too hard,
and simply do my viewing here in my backyard.
Prompt words today are view, spendthrift , and contest.
These sounds, recorded from the next hill over from the one I live on, are what I’ve been hearing for the past month or so. They are the harbingers of the rainy season, which started tonight. I can see lightning flashing from the glass walls to the left and in front of my bed, hear the thunder rolling around the lake, smell the petrichor in the air, feel the slight spray through the screen of the one sliding glass door I can’t stand to close. Those of us who live here year round love the rainy season. The relief from both the dry heat and the crowds. Tonight I will breathe easy in the fresh air.
A few years ago, Forgottenman was here for the start of the rainy season and THIS is what he had to say about it.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 