Tag Archives: Daily Life

“Gorge”ous


“Gorge”ous

Everyone is cognizant that
runway models gone to fat
will very promptly get the axe
for appetite control grown lax.

Alas, it is a tragic truth
that larger forms are viewed uncouth.
Plus-sized is not viewed as “in,”
within a world that’s based on thin.

Designers never seem to feel
that models who enjoy a meal
do their fashions adequate
justice in the hips and butt.

Their hungry models  stroll and strut
with tiny waist and taut-stretched gut,
looking very lank and lean
and also just a little mean.

No doubt from hunger––their daily fate.
While as we watch, those overweight
have found a way to compensate.
We gain revenge by chocolate!

For the WordPress Daily Prompt: Gorge.

Mapped-out Life

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Mapped-out Life

If you’re unhappy with your route—
dissatisfied and full of doubt—
then you might be second-guessing,
looking for your parents’ blessing,
wanting to please everyone,
putting duty before fun,
overlooking the main one
and therefore satisfying none.

You are the one to satisfy,
to be led by and to gratify.
The principles by which you’ll bide
must be the ones you find inside.
So if you make a faulty choice,
at least it’s due to your own voice
and easier to rectify
than if you’ve chosen to rely
on rules laid down by another:
boss or lover, dad or mother.

So when you step out on that road
that takes you to your life’s abode,
be sure that that first step you take
is one you’ve chosen you should make,
led perhaps by older, wiser
family member or advisor,
but nonetheless, just right for you—
what you cannot help but do.
For when you’re older, you’ll figure out
that’s what life is all about.

The prompt today was “doubt.”

Gourmand

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Gourmand

His smile an invitation I could plainly see,
I very promptly answered his implied R.S.V.P.
But later on I wished that I had just let it be,
for that smile was for another girl the minute he had me!

An open invitation is his modus operandi.
Every social gathering provides him more eye candy.
Once seen, a tiny little lick is what he seems to savor.
He likes it when each taste he takes presents a different flavor.

Every toothsome girl he sees stirs his appetite,
and even though his smile suggests he’d like a little bite,
no matter what the tasty dish is that you choose to serve,
you’ll never be a main course, but merely an hors d’oeuvre.

The prompt today was “invitation.”

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Spending Time

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Spending Time

What do you value most, my friend? What carries you through life?
Have you friends and children? A husband or a wife?
If what we find of value in all the world contains
all we carry with us when youth and vigor wanes,
would you choose a portrait of all that you have had
that points your view toward happier times as the world turns sad,
or would you choose a camera that points you at the world––
all these younger lives than yours, about to come unfurled?
Whatever gives us life at first, then takes it all away
really only gives us what we have today
to value and make use of. So I want to be bolder,
looking straight ahead of me and not over my shoulder.
Though every hour has value, and every second in it,
the only time we have to spend is the coming minute.

The prompt word today is “value.”

High Cholesterol


High Cholesterol

Bake the pies and roast the beast.
Call your friends from west and east.
They’ll enjoy the food, at least,
as from sparse greens my meal is pieced.
For I fear my life’s long feast
has, by necessity, now ceased!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/feast/

“The World Swings Towards its Opposite”

“The World Swings Towards its Opposite”

Often we’re made by what we lack.
White stands out better against black.
A child’s hand against your hand
often helps you understand
how prepared the human zoo
is to go on without you.

The world keeps balancing its act,
although we often rue the fact.
A child is born? Another must
make room by turning back to dust.
And every time we try to change this,
nature steps in to rearrange us.

Pestilence, earthquake and flood
offset new birth by spilling blood.
Ebola, aids, dengue, the flu
are, alas, only a few
of nature’s horrors that balance joys.
Cold and hot and girls and boys,

feast and famine, rain and shine,
mountain, valley, fresh water, brine––
contrast is what defines our world.
Every “knit one” must be pearled.
The truth in this election year
is one that I have come to fear,

for just as prejudice seemed cured,
our world has turned back to absurd.
Obamacare may be replaced
with a plan that’s more debased.
Hatred and misogyny
may be the next thing that will be

inflicted upon our brave world
that reels under each new ill hurled
before cycling back to light,
healing from each horrid blight.
Who seeks to “Trump” our earthly hand,
is one hand closer to being canned!


“. . . when anything reaches its maximum potential, it turns toward its opposite.”
–(translation of a principle stated in the i ching.)

If you want tohttps://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/contrast/


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We Fill in the Blanks

I write notes three times weekly in my limping Spanish for Yolanda, not because I won’t see her, but because I probably won’t remember by then what  I need to tell her. She has asked me to order more vacuum cleaner bags from the states. I use the words I know, and tonight the word for vacuum has escaped my memory. So I leave this note on the kitchen island, taped to a filter I’ve found in the laundry room:

“Is this the bag for the machine for clean the floor?”
Es este la bolsa para la machina para limpiar el piso?

Then, taped to the stove top:

I’m sorry, Yolanda, but a potato broke in my oven  and it is very bad! I worked for one hour and a  half but it is still bad now.”
Lo siento, Yolanda, pero una papa romper in me estufa y es mui malo!  Trabajo por una hora media pero es malo ahora.

A potato broke in my oven?  I don’t know the word for exploded, but I think it must put a bit of levity into her morning to try to interpret what I have said.

Later, she will go home and report today’s pleasure.  “The senora?  Today she broke a potato in the oven. She tried to clean it for awhile, then went to write another poem.”

There will be no rancor in her statement, for the humor of the unlearned words that still stand between our total comprehension of each other will be gentled by the total understanding that compensates for those lost words.
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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Handwritten.” When was the last time you wrote something by hand? What was it?