Category Archives: Uncategorized

Last Little Piggy Goes To Market

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Last Little Piggy Goes To Market

I am the littlest piggy, and when I commenced to roam,
why did I cry “Wee wee wee” all the long way home?
My sibling went to market and I followed along.
The path was rough and winding–as steep as it was long.

My little legs were tired, yet I followed close behind––
I wondered if he knew that I was following if he’d mind.
My family never let me go hardly anywhere,
so market piqued my interest. I wondered what was there.

I asked my other siblings if they wouldn’t like to try it,
but one was into his roast beef, the other on a diet.
She said she would be tempted by the pastries and the candy.
This was enough to convince me this market was a dandy.

When we crested the final hill and rounded the last bend,
the market spread out for so far, I couldn’t see its end.
Booth after booth was set up to sell its chosen fare.
My head swung fast from side to side to see all that was there.

Buttons, bolsters, bumbershoots and books with songs or riddles.
Little dainty donuts with whipped cream in their middles.
Tinkertoys and rubber balls and cricket bats and kites.
My eyes could not keep up with all these delicious sights.

I lost sight of my brother, but I didn’t care.
I was too busy ogling all this varied fare.
My tummy started rumbling. Ice cream, cakes and pies.
I wished that I could put my mouth where I had put my eyes.

But then I stopped to look at a very curious rig
and a big sign that said “Barbecue—what? Barbecue pig????
Folks stood around with sandwiches filled with dripping meat,
and then I saw another sign that said “Pickled Pig’s Feet!!!”

My pigs’ feet took me out of there as fast as I could joggle.
I didn’t stop for donuts. I didn’t stop to ogle.
I scurried for my own safe yard, squealing “Wee, wee, wee!”
Now when I seek adventure, home is enough for me!!!

 

For the latest dVerse Poetics prompt: A different take on myths or legends.

Hibiscus: Flower of the Day, Apr 24, 2019

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IMG_1559This little hibiscus bush right next to my kitchen door is very faithful in providing a bloom at a time. Nice to be greeted to this surprise most days when I go out to feed the cats. It is a Spanish Dancer. Love the bloom and love the name.

For Cee’s FOTD

Bad Choices Well Remembered

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Bad Choices Well Remembered

Memories grate against my mind like chalk against the board.
I simply can’t forget them, however much abhorred.
When I try to go sleep, at breakfast or at tea,
my reflections interrupt the most polite company.
With my present decisions, I’m doing rather fine, 
yet my past could have been  better. Why didn’t I decline?
On my mind’s conveyor belt, regrets move down the line,
but though I keep it oiled, they emit a nagging whine.
Would have, could have, should have–—they wheedle with such zest
I cannot still the murmurings of each unwelcome guest.
We’re meant to leave the past behind. It’s how all nature planned it,
but contrary to nature, my memory hasn’t banned it!

 

Yay! Forgottenman has written a post for two days in a row.  Please see his memories of watermelon HERE. and leave him a comment so he knows you care.

 

Prompt words today are omit, tea, oil and chalk. Here are the links:
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/04/23/your-daily-word-prompt-omit-april-23-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/04/23/tea/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/04/23/fowc-with-fandango-oil/
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/04/23/rdp-tuesday-chalk/

Jenny’s Stroll

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Kid Again: NaPoWriMo 2019, Apr 22, 2019

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There are more forms of art in the world than most people can list. Cooking may be an art in the right hands, or riding a horse or setting a table. Or flying a kite.

Kid Again.

From the still air near the beach,
it seems a miracle
that above us there are currents
strong enough to sail a kite.

The long-handled spool spins
between your loose-curled palms,
yet the kite curls lower
until you remember how
to reel it in a bit
and run, and let it go.

As you in the heat,
under Leon Redbone hat,
learn the tricks again
you haven’t needed since you were a kid,
you recognize, through some
adult amnesia,
the tug of the string
against your hands––that tactile memory––
and steer the beautiful sperm-shaped kite
with the longest tail
higher.

Yours unique above the two blue others.
Yours lotus-patterned with a spiraled tail
of purple, orange and yellow.

All afternoon, the seagulls and the pigeons
curve between the obstacles
of string and tail
as you rock your hand
to teach this drifter
how to execute a figure eight,
until a cooler wind,
blowing your shirt-back dry,
calls your attention
to the sunset,
and you start to reel your new toy in.

Still fighting that compulsion 
to let it go again
to the end of the string,
you dance the kite
on ever-shorter tether
as you take it for a walk
along the footpath
to the car,
remembering
by some association,
watermelon.

 

After Forgottenman read this poem, he told me a charming story about the last time he flew a kite. For the first time in history, when I said he should write a blog post on it, he actually did!!  You can find it HERE.

The NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem about another art form.

In Your Easter Bonnet: FOTD Apr 22, 2019

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It was Easter and Vino Blanco decided to wear her Easter hat, covered with flowers, just like all the other ladies who came to Yves for Easter comida.

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Her son, Martini, however, had hung up his hat before I could get a shot of him.  I should have taken my photos earlier!

Here is their competition: (click on photos to enlarge.)

At the last minute, it was suggested we wear hats. Everyone but Sandy and I complied. I’d already done my hat thing for the year! Wanna see it again? Go HERE.

 

For Cee’s FOTD

Crow Speaks, NaPoWriMo 2019, Apr 21, 2019

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Screen Shot 2019-04-21 at 2.02.02 AM

The NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem making use of surreal images and words.

Aloe Blooms with Bees: FOTD Apr 21, 2019

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Click on photos to enlarge.

 

The aloe are in full bloom now, and the bees are taking full advantage. They tunnel down into the blooms until their entire bodies are obscured, then back out covered in pollen. They are absolutely drunk on nectar, or so it seems, and as determined as Morrie when he in in ball-fetching mode.

For Cee’s FOTD

Easter Morning Confession

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Easter Morning Confession

“What’s all this hoopla over eggs
and animals with furry legs?”
My father chortled every year,
just loud enough for us to hear
while we lay scheming in our beds,
visions of rabbits in our heads
and candy eggs and chocolate,
wondering just where and what
we’d be hunting in the morning,
when, early and with no warning
we’d descend the long back stair
the earliest that we could dare
and set upon the living room
in the early morning gloom
to satiate that yearly lust.
We must have chocolate. We must!

Year after year, we slipped our gaskets
seeking to fill up our baskets.
Even now, that longing swells
when I hear those Easter bells.
So many years since I, a seedling,
commenced my yearly candy wheedling.

How many days, how many nights
did we anticipate delights 
well into our lower teens
of  Peeps and eggs and jelly beans.
and, best of all, that chocolate rabbit
became our yearly Easter habit.
Sitting regally on its ass
amidst the bright green Easter grass
in the baskets overflowing
with our coming and our going,
searching out that Easter stash
of candy, chocolate and cash.
A dollar hidden in one nest
was the very very best
find of the whole Easter season,
and in fact it was the reason
why Easter Sunday was the best—
our favorite of all the rest.

Later, to church, to sing and pray,
remembering just why this day
was celebrated, though I fear
that for us, year after year
there were more than one or two
kids sequestered in a pew
who were not thinking of the prayer,
but of layer upon layer
of goodies that awaited them
in baskets filled up to the brim.
For, though our hearts were pure and pious,
they could not dispel the bias
of a child’s rumbling gut
yearning for more chocolate!! 

The prompt today are egg, hoopla, seedling and longing. Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/04/20/rdp-saturday-egg/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/04/20/fowc-with-fandango-hoopla/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/04/20/your-daily-word-prompt-seedling-april-20-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/04/20/longing/

Dakota Rattlesnake Charm: NaPoWriMo 2019

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Dakota Rattlesnake Charm

Wheat fields sough
like the evening skirt
of a city lady
with her train in the dirt.
The old side-winder
with diamond back
and his tail half out
and  his head in the stack.
The summer sun
glints off the gun
of the farmer
who slicked and hacked
to put the rattles
in his sack.
and tie them in his daughter’s hair
to  tell them fancymen  “beware,”
—the hack-a-sack man
who sold those nighties
turned small town girls
into aphrodites.
Drove their souls
to the city nights,
to men and music,
words and lights.
’til they pull her down,
uncoil her hair,
a sudden rattle,
and she’s not there!

 

 

For NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 20