Feral Nature
This being human is hard
when your blood
draws you to midnight,
throat stretched in a love song
torn from a wild soul.
Your wiry pelt,
raised by the moon’s gravitational pull,
sheds humanity’s cloak,
springs out from hiding,
and reveals its ruff.
The wildest creature for miles,
you lope for the forest,
then bound to the highest hill
to proclaim this night’s dominion
over a too-tame world.
For dVerse Poets. Image by JP Valery on unsplash, used with permission.
Judy’s note: I had to share with you this Facebook message I just received from my friend Candace. This wonderful message came with this note: “The author (unknown) is encouraging copy/paste if you like.” I hope it is true that the anonymous author has asked us to copy and paste it. If you know different, let me know and I will cite the author or remove it.
Preaching to the Preacher
When your downside is upside and all’s in arrears,
there’s a secret I know that will dry up your tears.
It’s much easier, really, than you might suppose.
Just find a good spot and enact your repose.
A hammock will do if you can’t find a field
of wildflowers, grass or sand dunes that yield
to the shape of your body to comfort what ails you.
Take whatever place to lie down that avails you.
Then when your nestling-in is all done,
let the storm of your worries dissolve in the sun.
Swing in your hammock or roll in tall grass.
Let what happens happen. Just let it all pass.
Refuse to let problems consume and astound you.
Take heed of the beauty that is all around you.
Every moment of every day,
choose what holds on and what slips away.
Life deals you the hand and sometimes it’s unlucky,
but yet if you’re hopeful and cheerful and plucky,
You can determine what you do with your hand.
The end of your story has not been preplanned.
You may draw, you may hold, you may just walk away
in search of a better end to this day.
Bad fortune is but a rough interlude
What remains with you is your attitude.
Irony is us. The minute I finished writing this poem, my doorbell rang. It was Raquet Club security with a letter that I have to tear down the small storeroom I built on the wall between my upper and lower lots because it violates the easement! I can’t believe it that I’ve spent thousands of dollars to create a beautiful space in lieu of the neighborhood dumping ground and they nitpick over my attaching a tiny storage building to my own wall between two properties that I own!
“Tranquila, tranquila,” Yolanda directed, as I raged––and then I suddenly remembered the words I’d just written and not even posted yet. I was going to entitle this poem “Preaching from the Choir,” but I think I need to change the title to “Preaching to the Preacher.” I’m going to post it and go lie in the hammock for awhile.
I love how jade plants replicate easily from every shed leaf. This walking stick visitor didn’t seem interested in dining on it. Just curious, perhaps. Anyone know what you’d call fifteen siblings born at the same time from the same mother? Quinceuplets?
For Cee’s FOTD
2021
This is a pretty kettle of fish,
a quagmire that we’re caught in.
You only need to take one sniff
to know that something’s rotten.
We thought we’d amble on through life
as lively as we pleased,
but then someone got a fever
and another someone sneezed.
Suddenly, we all slowed down,
imprisoned in our houses,
devoid of underwear
and wearing nightgowns for our blouses.
Watching TV all night long,
avoiding lowlife dives,
reduced to just our families,
we floundered in our lives.
That’s how we came to beg for it,
to scheme and plot and wheedle.
Who thought we’d be so grateful
for the nose swab and the needle?
Ferns love this location on the corner of my garage by my kitchen door and cover the ugly bare vines of the bougainvillea peeking out at the top.
For Cee’s FOTD
Marital Disagreement
When anguish becomes volatile and without your prior detection,
things are lofted toward you–lamps thrown in your direction.
As frying pans and glasses come at you through the air,
take my advice, it would be best if you were still not there.
You’d better listen to my words, for I’ll not tell you twice.
With such items sailing toward you to “Duck!!!” is good advice.
It’s best to listen to our friends for help when times get tough.
You need not express gratitude. Your friendship is enough.
Prompt words today are duck, direction, anguish, volatile and gratitude.
What are you doing at midnight? Whatever it is, take some photos. Write a few lines. Scribble a poem. Sketch us a sketch. Write a song. Dance a dance. Cook us a midnight treat, mix us a twelve o’clock cocktail. Whatever you are doing at midnight, post it on your blog and share it with us by posting a pingback or making a link back to my comment section..
These are my actions in the hour leading up to midnight on Mar 13, 2021 in San Juan Cosala, Jalisco, Mexico. (On Lake Chapala near Guadalajara.)
Initially, I was fussing over the succulent wall, that I’d changed yesterday, again switching things around. (Click on photos to enlarge and read captions.)
Now, what are you doing at midnight?
