Loud Music in the Rainy Season

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Click on any photo to enlarge all.


Loud Music in the Rainy Season

Up above me, such a din!
I feel my patience growing thin.
Cross fingers that they do not fall
as workmen scamper over all,
balancing on domes and peaks,
replacing roof tiles, sealing leaks.

They’re taking the old surface off
all my domes and drainage trough,
putting membrane down and goo
that will not let the water through
in June when rains beat hard and steady,
although, alas, they’ve come already!

The dogs are sent into a tizzy.
Looking up, I just get dizzy.
In this world that I love so,
down here in lovely Mexico,
now the grinder joins the din.
In a noise Olympics, it would win!

My thoughts all center on escaping
this chipping, drilling, pounding, scraping.
How I’d like to leave this all
for relative quiet at the mall!
But, alas, I must remain
a martyr to construction pain.

Ear plugs having no effect,
before my sanity is wrecked,
I turn up music to a SHOUT
to let Bob Dylan drown them out.
Now Caitlin Cary croons and sings
that she is “Sorry” and other things.

Eliza Gilkyson’s rough croon
is over oh too soon, too soon.
The silence that her true love speaks
replaced now by the sander’s shrieks,
I turn the iPod on again,
full force, to drown out all the din.

I’ve no sympathy for the neighbors’ plight.
Their damn dog kept me up all night,
and if my eardrums are to be shot
I would rather that it’s not
by machines like those above,
but rather by a sound I love.

The prompt word today is “thin.”

Bougainvillea Plus: Flower of the Day, May 16, 2018

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IMG_0835

It took me a while to notice the little visitor on this bougainvillea branch.

See Cee’s lovely bud HERE.

Mongrel Maven

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Mongrel Maven

My bloodline’s scattered here and there—
a genealogist’s nightmare.
Racially, I’m broadly mixed.
The KKK would have me fixed.
My lineage being under-par,
I cannot join the D.A.R.
I have no claims to royalty,
so my name is title-free.
Who I am is merely me.
For this I need no pedigree!

 

The prompt word today is pedigree.

Royal Poinciana: Flower of the Day, May 15, 2018

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For Cee’s Flower Prompt.

SYW May 14, 2018

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Every so often, nosy Cee wants to know what we’ve been up to.  I often forget to play, but here are my answers for this week along with some extra info:

Complete this sentence: This sandwich could really use some …teeth in it.

What is your least favorite candy? Licorice

What sign are you? Do you believe in astrology? Cancer. I have the same attitude toward astrology as I do toward religion. I would like to believe in it and at times behave as though I do but I am skeptical. I would still always read my horoscope if I subscribed to a paper, as I occasionally pray when in an extremely harrowing situation. I am a great believer in synchronicity and the interconnectedness of the universe. Perhaps they are all one and the same thing.

What did you appreciate or what made you smile this past week?  So, my week has been a time of dinner out with friends complete with Mexican dancers, Mexican train, film nights at my house, swims in the pool between rainstorms, trees blooming all over town, smashed fingers, cut fingers, burned fingers, roof repairs, hurricane-strength winds, trees down, electrical outages, picking up after hurricane-strength winds, rainfall, towels and bowls under leaks, cats in every corner of the house escaping the rain, broken fingernails and removing the domed clear skylight (which is cracked in two places and leaking during rainstorms) in the middle of my 18 foot high dome. After they removed the frosted skylight, the sky shone bright blue through the opening and clouds drifted by. All too soon, however, they’d covered it with a clear piece of plastic and tarps which plunged the room into a gloomy darkness. It will be this way until they return with a new domed skylight custom-crafted to fit exactly as the old one did.

I had always known how responsible that skylight was for the light in the room, but I was surprised at the degree to which it served as a sun for my world.  In spite of  glass walls on 1 ½ sides, the otherwise cheerful room developed shadows and an all-over sort of gloominess that had me turning on every light available. Still, I feel the gloom of my shadowed world as I type this.  Here are a few photos to illustrate:

 

 

 

Terry and John at Viva Mexico
Drip management
At midnight, the lightning made it look like daylight
The skylight before
After the skylight is covered. Dark in daylight!
Royal poinciana in bloom in front garden
Cat ball
Another day, another finger injury
Making the most of those costumes.
I keep this one Oaxacan rug mainly because the kitties love to tunnel under it.
I think she’s coming!
Grandma’s kerosene lantern still gets regular usage in Mexico during power outages.
Flip side of the stitched finger slammed in the door.
The waiting faithful

Click on any photo to enlarge all, read captions and see slide series.

One question, though.  Why do I keep hurting my fingers????

 

For: https://ceenphotography.com/2018/05/14/share-your-world-may-14-2018/

Bougainvillea: Flower of the Day, My 14, 2018

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For Cee’s Flower of the Day post.

Chocolate Cake

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Chocolate

You’re being good and I am not.
I broke my diet and got caught.
I’d have resisted if I could,
but chocolate cake just looked so good.

I bought a piece, not a whole cake.
I thought a meal of it I’d make.
But now you feel you must rebut
my obvious need for chocolate.

Will you soon go? It’s getting late,
and there’s this chocolate on my plate.
And though I know it’s impolite,
the chances that I’ll share are slight.

Of your smug lecture I’ve had enough
and now it’s my turn to be tough.
If you must fall from your high throne
and dine on cake, go buy your own!

The prompt word today is slight.

Pen and Ink

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Pen and Ink

The pen that stands, clipped and inert
in the pocket of your shirt
has no power on its own
so long as it is left alone,
but once held upright in your grip,
free of cap and free of clip,
it forms a partnership of sorts
that spews out pithy, smart retorts.

It snaps the present into line
with words that, effortless, combine
in sentences that, once unfurled,
have the power to change the world.
I ask you, who would ever think
that two joined objects—pen and ink—
could form a perfect synergy
to spew out jokes or tragedy?

Guided by a hand like yours,
a pen can open many doors.
A simple point, an ink-trailed line,
could link your heart with one like mine.
Unclip it now. Uncap its point.
Let paper now that ink anoint.
Let words turn somersaults and caper.
Let words flow from your heart to paper.

Let ink flow rampant from its cage
to dance across the naked page.
No telling what it might report
as words go wild and cavort.
“I” and “love” and “you” might do
a sort of line-dance or soft-shoe.
Words just might and words just may
leak out and give your heart away.

The prompt word for Tourmaline’s One Word Photo Challenge is pen.

Cornhusk Flowers: Flower of the Day, May 13, 2018

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DSCN2021

Still struggling to try to get all the flower photos from my phone to my computer. In the meantime, here are some  flowers made from cornhusks by the ladies on the other side of the lake. I love them!

See Cee’s raindropped iris HERE.

Core Identity

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Judy's new haircut and thin lips

Core Identity

Whoever really gets to see
what is at the core of me?
Neither my mother nor my lover
gets to see beneath my cover.
No surgery has extracted it.
It’s not exposed in ire or wit.
It’s in a corner still unlit,
buried in identity’s pit.

Even I have not exhumed it, for
I’ve never found my very core.
Some say it’s found in meditation,
prayer or true love’s exaltation,
but I have journeyed into each
merely to wind up on the beach
of what I know must be the sea
of my soul’s identity.

Perhaps it is the world’s distractions––
all its toys and fine abstractions,
its petty jealousies and fears
regarding family and careers
that get me lost while searching for
that ladder, passageway or door
that will lead me to the root of me––
that seed of my identity.

Perhaps in death we’re rejoined with
the part of us that is our pith.
Could it be what life is for—
this striving toward identity’s core?
Perhaps the lonely death I fear
will finally serve to bring me near,
away from all those things I’m not
to that whole self I’ve always sought

 

The WordPress prompt today is core.