Tag Archives: bad gifts

The Gift

The Gift

Once more you have defeated me with your machination,
for this gadget you have gifted me defies imagination.
Those tripartite metal arms are too small for much  lifting,
but too far apart to make use of in fine sifting.

The little barrel at the end resembles a munition,
but it does not match a firearm of any definition.
Is it a curling iron? Should I use it in my grooming?
If I plug it in should I expect a lethal booming?

Who knows if it was meant for betterment or sure destruction?
Such gifts are more appreciated when sent with instruction!
The layoffs at our company were no fault of my own.
I didn’t learn of yours until after you had flown.

The powers that be just acted without consulting me.
The charges that the fault was mine, in truth, are calumny.
I swear your firing was in no way due to my picking,
so please reclaim your gift before it ceases in its ticking!!!

Prompt words are layoff, gadget, imagination, tripartite and definition. Illustration thanks to Unsplash, used with permission.

tri·par·tite (I’d never heard the word before either, so here’s the pronunciation and definition:/trīˈpär’ˌtīt/ adjective  shared by or involving three parties.“a tripartite coalition government”consisting of three parts.“a tripartite classification.”)

Anniversary Blunder


Anniversary Blunder

It was an anniversary present for which he must atone
unless he wants to spend next anniversary alone.
When she opened up her gift, the lone words she could muster
were a string of sputterings, followed up by, “Buster!
is this the best  that you could do—a sander, saw and drill?
Shopping at a hardware store’s not anyway to thrill
a wife lusting for jewelry or even an appliance
more within the likelihood of strengthening our alliance!”
He said, “I thought a contrast might bring a little zing
to our romance much more unique than a diamond ring.
Then he led her to the closet and opened up the door
to see her brand new shoe rack built from ceiling to the floor.
New shelves and custom cabinet with jewelry racks and chest,
and then he opened up a drawer to reveal the best
surprise of all the others—left there for her to see—
a note that said, “Another gift. The tools were for me
to build this brand new closet that you’ve hinted at for years.
Here it is, with all my love, admittedly in arrears!
Look in the bottom jewelry drawer if this is not enough.
You’ll find a box there nestled next to your other stuff.”
And there she found the ring she’d wanted, nestled in among
all the gifts he’d bought her since the years when they were young.
Then she had a revelation, embarrassed for her huff,
and said, “Oh dear, you shouldn’t have. The tools were enough!”

The prompt words for today are contrast, hardware, atone and muster.  Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/10/02/rdp-tuesday-contrast/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/10/02/fowc-with-fandango-hardware/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/10/02/atone/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/muster

Boy Toys

erector-set-a - Version 3

Boy Toys

If I were a kid again,
I’d ask for an electric train,
erector sets and building blocks,
a cane to take along on walks
for fending off mean dogs and snakes,
a little oven that really bakes,
decoder rings and magic sets,
ant farms and bug-collecting nets,
a chart for looking up the stars,
paraffin and jelly jars.

The main thing that I’d want, you see,
are more forms of activity:
canvas, paints and wood or clay
to help me pass the time of day.
Instead, adventure came in books–
days spent in armchairs or in nooks
and crannies of our lawn or house,
curled up like a little mouse,
reading of the far-off places,
imaginary deeds and faces.

But I would rather have been doing–
drawing, cutting, building, gluing.
Instead I spent my days in dreams,
filling up my mind with schemes
of what I’d do when I was older–
taller, smarter, braver, bolder.
When we are young, if no one shows us,
takes the trouble to expose us
to the world of creativity,
we may never really see

all the ways that there might be
to set imagination free.
It was plain that an erector set
was not a toy I’d ever get.
With “Hello boys,” written on the front,
the message was both clear and blunt.
Girls did not ask for toys like this.
I had no inkling of what I’d miss.
Creativity was slow to dawn.
For years, I simply played the pawn,

doing what others asked of me,
waiting until I was free
to find a path I’d never seen
caught up in the small town machine.
When I was freed into the world,
a whole new universe unfurled
undivided into  girls or boys.
I finally learned to choose the toys
I really wanted: saws and pliers,
sheets of silver, silver wires,

drill presses and dapping blocks,
glues and solder guns and caulks.
I finally have the toys I want–
not toys to look at or to flaunt,
but toys to make things with and do
–things that help me build anew
each day into whate’er I wish:
a paper lamp, a silver fish.
My story boxes tell the story
of all those years in purgatory

before I learned what else there was
to make my life take off and buzz
with focus and activity–
to fill my days and set me free.
Somehow I just got off the track
before I made my own way back,
but If I did it over again,
I’d ask for that electric train.
Around the track, I’d watch it curl–
a perfect pastime for a girl!!!

The Prompt: Gimmee–Was there a special gift or toy you wanted as a child but never received? If so, what was it?If  https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/gimme/
TWIST   Twist

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/what-a-twist/

“You Don’t Send Me Flowers Anymore”

The Prompt: Secret Admirers—You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from, and why did they send it to you?

No Roses Left Inside my Gate

He didn’t leave me flowers, instead he sent a cake.
Not the smartest choice that he will ever make.
The problem was, he left it inside my compound door
where the dogs could get it.  Now it is no more!
My dogs have diarrhea and I have no dessert.
Little bits of cardboard are carpeting the dirt
and grass and bricks and tiles and every patio chair—
with every bit of frosting licked from them with care.
I cannot blame my friend for this ungodly mess.
The blame is only mine, I’m driven to confess.
My friend’s a loyal reader and I’m a foolish girl.
You’ll understand more clearly if you read this URL:
https://grieflessons.wordpress.com/2014/07/17/popsicles-and-tuberoses/