Words Written in Stone

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Words Written in Stone

Facing death is difficult—that slowing of our pace
as we approach a barrier we aren’t ready to face.
I dread that last inscription of letters scribed in stone—
that final epistle denoting me alone.

No food or books or flowers will I see from here above,
so bring me no mementos—no tokens of our love.
You cannot drag me down again with psychic or with seer.
No vigil will reclaim me. There’s no way to bring me near.

We’ll have no tongue between us, no language will we share.
You cannot climb a ladder composed of only air,
and I can’t descend from where I’ll be, and so my dear, accept
your fresh life that is nourished by these tears that you have wept.

.

Prompt words for Wordle 544 of the Sunday Whirl
are: book ways vigil death memento drag letters inscription barrier tongue climb face.

Zoe the Despoiler

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Zoe the Despoiler

My little canine daughter is inimitably bold.
She cannot be deterred by a censure or a scold.
When her goal is purloined plastic bags or Yolanda’s mop,
it does no good to tell her that it’s time for her to stop.
She browses for the perfect thing for her to steal,
then if it seems it will not make a satisfying meal,
it might be good for chewing, so she’ll add it to her stash.
Not one of us is equal to her thirty meter dash.
She thrives on such purloining. Can we blame it on her age?
With luck, it’s a preliminary temporary stage!!!

Prompts today are inimitable, little, browse, thrive and daughter. Just like any toys that make their way out of her bed, Zoe was intent on dragging her new mop toy back to her favorite place of repose.

 

Stealing plastic bags
Dragging the mop from the kitchen to where it belongs–her bed.

 Click on photos to enlarge.

Mixed Bouquet, Mar 14, 2022

5 Replies

 

For Cee’s FOTD

Immutability

12 Replies

 

ANTIQUE JAR

Immutability

I am not a packrat, I am simply an amasser—
from old turquoise canning jars to Gran’s antimacassar,
fishing floats and wingback chairs and antique wind-up clocks,
 flatirons and coal shuttles and rusty keys and locks.

Don’t think I’m a spendthrift. I get the lowest prices.
Gross extravagance is not one of my main vices.
I simply value furniture and tools from the past—
in this throw-away world, I crave items that will last.

Prompt words today are packrat, float, extravagant, respectable.

Hibiscus: FOTD March 13, 2022

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For Cee’s FOTD

Holy Tearer (For Forgottenman, who requested another Zoe post)

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Click on photos to enlarge.

You won’t recognize the object of the tug-of-war between Zoe and me in the first photo, but it is my shirt sleeve. You might, however, recognize the pillow made out of my childhood drapes material that a friend recently gave to me, minus the big chewed hole recently added. Guess how that got there? Zoe has turned into a holy tearer for sure. I guess it is the terrible twos!!!!

If you don’t remember the story of how I came to be gifted the swatch of material that is the exact copy of the drapes in the house I grew up in, click on this link:
https://judydykstrabrown.com/2020/06/21/what-are-the-chances/

FOTD March 12, 2022

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For Cee’s FOTD

April Rain

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April rain streams out from my neighbor’s rooftop.
Soaks the garden,
Collects on leaves,
Everchanging weather–either a blessing or a curse.
The runoff from last night’s rain shoots from the drain that pierces a high stone wall.
The clouds are gorgeous in the later afternoon
The cycle of life represented by the trees, sun, clouds, rain.

April Rain

As angry clouds clenched like a fist,
fade into gentle morning mist,
leaves curled on branches fall at last
from where they have been clinging fast.
Now  that the year is on the march.
water falls to quench its parch.
New leaves emerge to greet the sun
and doors open as one-by-one,
we, too, come out as April rain
brings back nature’s green again.

 

Prompt words today are march, water, curl and anger

Rusty

4 Replies

 

 

For Weekly Prompts: Rust Buckets

Unlucky Tens

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Unlucky Tens

Who knows if we will die or if we thrive?
If we are meant for Heaven or for Hell?
For though we flourish at full fathoms five,
ten fathoms deep they ring our funeral bell.
Nine penny, ten a penny, roll the dice.
Loan me ten dollars, ’cause I’m feeling hot.
If I roll only once or I roll twice,
will I throw me a snake eyes? I think not.
And ten little Indians never will
pluck a tail feather of a whippoorwill!

 

For dVerse Poets “Ten” Poem We were to write a poem of ten lines with ten syllables per line and an ababcdcd ee rhyme scheme. HERE is the link for that prompt. The link to read other poems for the prompt is given above. Image by Timo Müller on Unsplash.