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Life has been crazy lately, but yesterday, finally, was a day of complete relaxation. Hammocks certainly help to encourage that. And HERE is an earlier post on the same topic. Penned during the Covid year, I believe.
For Cee’s FOTD
Kindergarten Romeo
A bunch of yellow dandelions
squeezed tight in your fist,
your face all raw emotion,
red faced, you held them out to me,
the ripe odor of little boy
surrounding you like a cloud.
The dVerse poets prompt is to write a poem (probably about guacamole, maybe?) using a mixture of at least four of the following key words: avocado, bunch, chop, cilantro, coriander, cumin, finely, fork, jalapeño, kosher, lime, mash, onion, pepper, raw, red, ripe, salt, seeds, serrano, shell, smoky, spice, squeeze, tomato, white, yellow. Everything else is up to you! (The words I chose were: bunch ripe red squeeze yellow.) Ha! No Guacamole.
To read other Guacamole poems, go HERE. Image by Anthony Vela on Unsplash
Here is my poem in answer to K.F. Hartless’s prompt
to write 50 words or less in response to this image.
Sorry, K.F. but I cheated and went 11 words over.
For Cee’s FOTD
routes laid out by heavenly bodies
the moon
at its birth
and
the sun
at its death
create
just the
suggestion
of a
road
that is
why
I rise early
for the
sunrise
why I
ask you
to join me
for the
sunset
to howl howl
at the
open moon
This is a rewrite of a poem written 8 years ago transformed into a quadrille for the dVerse Poets Quadrille Challenge: Moon. Go HERE to read other poems written for this prompt. I think I like the quadrille version better. Thanks, De at Whimsygizmo, for the incentive.
Sam Says 11/14 is National Cat Day and That’s Enough to Set Me Off!!! I’ve been saving these photos for months…and here they are.
Click on Photos to Enlarge.
Two colors of hibiscus grow on this one tree: red and yellow. This one grows at the west end of the malecón in San Juan Cosala.
For Cee’s FOTD,
The Escape
Lips pressed against a crystal glass,
she gazes at the stars.
A prisoner, she scans the sky
from Jupiter to Mars.
Within this arranged marriage,
her future has been cinched.
Trapped within tradition,
her fire has been quenched.
Blind terror fills her body
as she thinks of what she’ll lose,
for it is another
she’d have if she could choose.
A pity that she has to take
this means of her escape,
as she tucks the lethal bottle
in the pocket of her cape
and drinks the draught in one fast gulp,
then lets out one long sigh
as she enters that dark tunnel
that leads from Earth to sky.
The Sunday Whirl Wordle 628 prompts are: blind lips body escape pressed pitied tunnel lose trapped fire glass stars (Image by Louis Galvez on Unsplash.)
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 