These are photos I took when I visitied Isidro’ Xilonzóchitl’s studio during the art tour. Can’t resist adding this video of his granddaughters putting on a little show to the music in the other room:
For Cellpic Sunday
Metallica
Use your cook pots for umbrellas, ‘cuz it’s raining iron rain.
I don’t mind heavy metal, but as weather? It’s insane.
The drumming is excessive, and if you can’t take the pain,
you don’t want to be caught out singing in the rain.
If you plan on going wading, I’d have another think,
for the puddles that you’re ogling seem to be full of zinc.
When it snows, most of the snowflakes have crystals made of lead—
not a pleasing prospect when they’re falling on your head.
Oceans full of copper, bronze and steel and tin
may be the place you have to die for to be in.
Silver hills and valleys, rivers made of gold
are all that’s left now that our nature’s all been sold.
Does tungsten please your taste buds? Can you eat the golden calf?
With no leather, those bronze slippers aren’t as comfortable by half.
Aluminum for cooking, some folks think can’t be beat,
but what you use for cooking you cannot also eat!
Now they’ve fracked away our water and melted polar ice,
Mother Nature thinks a world of metal would be nice.
So put away your appetites, for food will be passé
once the plants and animals have all been put away.
Say thank you to our rulers. Say thank you very much
for their self-serving decisions and their Midas touch.
Some of us saw this coming but the others did not see
They were too busy getting their news from Fox TV!!!
The RDP Sunday Prompt is “bronze.” Lest you think I go to far: “Researchers Discover Faraway Planet Where the Rain is Made of Iron.”
Shipwreck of State
The ship of state spins crazily, splitting at the sails.
Not a breathe of wind to fill its wings as it hesitates and fails.
It cringes as the cracks form on its masthead and beneath
and it runs ashore to crumble into pieces on the heath.
By no stretch of faith can those who watch fail to feel the quaking
as the whole world shudders at this chaos in the making.
For The Sunday Whirl the prompt words are: split cringe breathe pieces wings cracks beneath hesitates stretch ship spin chaos. Illustration created with the help of AI.
Heart of the Matter
My family’s only easygoing when it isn’t moody,
and dealing with the moody times seems to be my duty.
If I were only liberated and in better shape,
I’d clamber out the window and down the fire escape
and find some other people easier to bear,
investigate the wider world and see how I would fare.
The solution to this problem you are likely to construe
if you interview my family, but I hope you never do,
for the truth is that the discord that you otherwise might see
is likely to have vanished when they’re not dealing with me!
In case you are either related to me or only wondering–-Just kidding, folks!
The Weekend Writing Prompt is “Mood.”
For Fibbing Friday, this week’s assignment is:
Mixed bag of silliness this week:
Your suggestions for these please!
1. What is a mamba? A mother sheep.
2. What is a rumba? A negative response to any drink made with Bacardi.
3. What is a samba? The result of Sam Shepherd taking his name seriously.
4. What is a metronome? An elf living in a city.
5. What is a mantra? Someone who has transitioned from female to male.
6. What is a salsa? It is a condiment often matched with pepper, ma’am.
7. What is a cappella? A small hat.
8. What is canasta? A tubular lidded container for storing flour or other kitchen staples.
9. What is alabaster? How liquid is dispersed over meat while cooking.
10. What is a stanza? An abbreviation for street and half of the name of a Gabor sister.
Advice to a Poetry Critic
Each poet worth her salt adores
well-appointed metaphors,
but when they step up to the mike,
similes they only like.
Before you discuss simile
consult an expert vis a vis
the difference between the two
so you will never have to rue
mislabeling your imagery.
Hyperbole is not allusion,
so don’t add to the confusion.
Synecdoche to oxymoron––
as you choose what to write more on––
get their names right for your reader.
There’s more to poems than rhyme and meter!
For dVerse Poets we were to make use of simile in a poem.
I fudged a bit and gave instructions as to its proper use!
Welcome to “The Numbers Game #110. Today’s number is 232.To play along, go to your photos file folder and type the number 232 into the search bar. Then post a selection of the photos you find that include that number and post a link to your blog in my Numbers Game blog of the day. If instead of numbers, you have changed the identifiers of all your photos into words, pick a word or words to use instead, and show us a variety of photos that contain that word in the title. This prompt will repeat each Monday with a new number. If you want to play along, please put a link to your blog in comments below. (I posted an earlier version, but didn’t include any photos! I hope this one wo
For some reason, WP will not let me add a gallery. See if it works for you!!!
It will only let me enter one photo at a time.
Golden Idols
Untethered tendrils of memory weave through my agenda for the day, sparking wonder as they strike against those walls the modern world prompts us to erect. But too soon, the flame of memory falls to ash as it confronts harsh reality. Dare we renew that faith that led us for so many years through our earlier life? New gods less holy than those of our youth construct golden idols whose weight those who should be our leaders cower beneath. Truth cloaked by greed, too many of our formerly trusted messengers play their game, sending false messages below headlines that label them as News.
The The Sunday Whirl Wordle prompts are: below renew weaves through cloaks holy untethered tendrils gods spark ash wonder
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 