Tag Archives: Daily Prompt

The Emperor of Chocolate

                                                                             image from internet

The Emperor of Chocolate

I am the emperor of chocolate. I conquer every bar.
I can detect its presence in wrappings or in jar.
When there’s no chocolate to be found, I simply can’t abide it.
I can find it anywhere—wherever you might hide it.
My tendency toward chocolate is a tale I hate to tell;
but I cannot help it, for it’s congenital.
My mother abused substances—namely, Russell Stover.
She could not close the box lid until eating them was over.

She couldn’t resist chocolates, though she was not a glutton
when it came to other foods like hamburgers or mutton.
She received a box of chocolates on every holiday—
on her birthday and for Christmas, and for sure on Mother’s Day.
When it came to appreciation, my mother never failed them,
for when it came to chocolates, she always just inhaled them.
One time my dad decided that he would have some fun.
He bought my mom some chocolates to dole out one-by-one.

He hid them underneath the cushion of a chair
to give her one piece daily, but she knew that they were there.
She ate the whole box in two days. It really was disgraceful.
Every time I saw her, it seemed she had a face full.
Only with my father did she manage to save face,
For she bought chocolate-covered cherries and put one in the place
of every chocolate she stole. My father never knew.
She was not tempted by the cherries—a taste she could eschew.

My father always thought he’d pulled one over on my mother,
although I’ve always known that the true jokester was another.
When the box was only cherries, and he offered them to her,
she’d say, “I’ll save it for later,” or sometimes she’d  demur.
To resist chocolate cherries, she was fully able,
and I was fully loyal to preserving mother’s fable.
That’s how my addiction was learned at Mother’s knee,
because the chocolate-covered cherries? She gave them all to me.

 

Here is a link to my favorite photo of my mother, plus other stories and poems about here: https://judydykstrabrown.com/2018/08/01/parental-support/

The prompt today is conquer.

Books or Kindle, Eye or Ear?

 

The prompt word today was controversy. Are Kindle and Audible a blessing or a curse?  Will libraries and bookstores become a thing of the past, vanished like scrolls and slates and blackboards?  Will technology continue to wed the concrete and the abstract until there is no difference?  In looking for one of my photographic images to accompany this prompt, I found this poem written two years ago and decided to reblog myself!


Books

 The fresh bookstore smell of them,
bending the pages to crack the spine,
notes scribbled in the margins,
underlines,
hearts with initials on the flyleaf,
something to loan or to wrap for a gift,
something propped up on the bathtub edge,
it’s paper sprinkled with drops–
pages wrinkled into a Braille memory–
that rainstorm run through,
how he put it in his back pocket.

Poetry touched by fingers.
Single words met by lips.
Words pored over by candlelight or flashlight
in a sleeping bag or in a hut with no electricity.
Books pushed into backpacks
and under table legs for leveling.

Paper that soaked up
the oil from fingers
of the reader
consuming popcorn
or chocolate chip cookies
in lieu of the romance on the pages–
finger food served with brain food.
Passions wrapped in paper and ink–
the allure of a book and the tactile comfort.
The soul of a book you could touch, fold, bend.

Books are the gravestones of trees
but also the journals of our hearts.
Cities of words,
boards and bricks of letters,
insulated by hard covers or the curling skins
of paperbacks.
Something solid to transfer the dreams
of one person to another in a concrete telepathy
of fingers and eyes.
Books are the roads we build between us,
solid and substantial–
their paper the roadbed,
the words the center lines directing us.

What will fill the bookcases of a modern world?
Google replacing dictionaries,
Wikipedia already an invisible bank of Encyclopaedia Britannicas.
What will we use our boards and bricks for,
if not to hold up whole tenements of books?
How will we furnish our walls?
What will boys carry to school for girls?
What will we balance on heads
to practice walking with perfect posture?
What will we throw in the direction of the horrible pun?

Will there be graveyards for books, or cities built of them?
Quaint materials for easy chairs or headboards for beds?
Will we hollow them out for cigar boxes
or grind them up for packing material?
Where do books belong in the era of Kindle and Audible?
These dinosaurs that soon will not produce more eggs.
Perhaps they’ll grow as precious as antiques.
Perhaps the grandchildren of our grandchildren
will ponder how to open them. Will wonder at their quaintness,
collecting them like mustache cups or carnival glass,
wondering about the use of them–as unfathomable as hieroglyphics.
That last book closing its pages–one more obsolete mystery
fueling the curiosity of a bygone era that has vanished
into a wireless universe.

 

 

Good Fortune

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Good Fortune

How lucky I’ve been in the bad luck I’ve had,
for no matter how dangerous, life-threatening, bad,
I’ve always come out both alive and still kicking
whenever my life chose to give me a licking.

The prompt word today is luck.

Zit Solution

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Zit Solution

It was a tiny pimple in the middle of my chin,
but it seemed most massive to me way back then.
A zit the day before the prom seemed a tragedy
insurmountable to a teenager like me.
I squeezed it and I worried it. With Clearasil I topped it.
Still I couldn’t leave it, and eventually, I popped it,
put toothpaste on and alcohol and dabbed it with foundation;
but still it wouldn’t go away, to my great consternation.

I put a band-aid on it, but that just made it worse.
And when my dad insisted that we had to rehearse
my two-step, since I’d never danced with boys before,
I backed myself right down the hall and headed out the door.
He caught me on the porch and assumed a dancing stance,
telling me he had to be sure that I could dance.
We two-stepped to the railing and two-stepped back again,
executing dancing the way he had back when.

And when he danced me through the door and back down the hall,
He said, “You’re a good dancer! You aren’t bad at all.”
Dad whispered at my door that night, just before I dozed,
“Mom had a pimple on her chin the night that I proposed.
Of all girls on the dance floor, you will be the rage.
When the prom queen’s introduced and standing on the stage,
it will be you that everyone’s looking at for sure.
They won’t be noticing your pimple. It’s your smile that is the cure.”

The prompt word was massive.

Unnatural Ending

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Unnatural Ending

What if we always chose to do
what our instinct told us to?
Perhaps by holding it at bay,
it’s reason that leads us astray.
When we leave our natural self behind,
it seems to get us in a bind,
inventing things I fear will tend
to bring about our eventual end—
like nuclear bombs and autos and
devices getting out of hand.
Our instinct prompts us to have enough
while minds lead us to other stuff
like avarice, gluttony, greed
wherein we want more than we need.
If mankind descended from Adam’s loin,
its end began with the first coin
stamped out in gold or other metal
better used for plow or kettle.
That granting of a value to
what we couldn’t wear or drink or chew
gave birth to what we are today—
ready to blow it all away.

The prompt word today was instinct.

Total Immersion

Version 2

Total Immersion

When it came to one diversion,
I fear I went total immersion.
I seemed to be in watching mode
as episode after episode,
the story line just seemed to flow,
and I watched two seasons in a row!

But now I find myself confessing
Netflix can be curse or blessing;
for I’ve found at end of day,
they’ve taken “Men in Trees” away.
Now I mourn its loss. The reason?
They cancelled after second season!!!

 

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I’ve been without TV by choice for most of the time since 1987. The reason initially was because my husband’s daughter, who was having problems in school, came to live with us. I wanted to encourage her to read, so we had the TV cable cancelled.  By the time that she moved back with her mother a few years later, I found that I liked my life without the diversion of television.  my mother taped and sent her favorite shows, without commercials, as did my sister, so I had my own personal TiVo even before it was invented. With time on TV limited, I turned to other pleasures—mainly gardening and working in the studio.  

A few years after I moved to Mexico, I did connect to Satellite TV, but when my service provider skipped town with the year’s subscription money in his pocket, I decided not to renew with another provider. Very shortly thereafter, Netflix became available in Mexico; and so I find myself watching very old series that most have already seen: Friends, Heartland, and most recently, Men in Trees!  I allowed myself the luxury of watching the entire two seasons in a week or so.  Characters came to seem like old friends, then vanished forever.  I mourn their loss.

 

The prompt today was immerse.

On Hiatus!!!

On Hiatus!

Because I suddenly am bored,
I cannot make myself record
a poem using the daily word.
Suddenly, it seems absurd
to sit here typing nonsense when
I’m thinking of what might have been.
I could be walking in the sand,
throwing balls for Morrie and
sight dolphins others have been hyping—
(having spotted them while I’ve been typing!!!)
So fellow bloggers, here I go
into my own reality show.
What I’ve done? I’ll tell you later.
‘Til then, I’m a procrastinator.

The prompt word today was record.

Sunset Susurration

Click on first photo to enlarge all.


Sunset Susurration

The murmuration of the waves, the breeze’s gentle rush,
the small stain of the setting sun, spread by nature’s brush.
The yellow of her pallet, bold orange and red and pink
complicate the skyline as we watch the sun’s orb sink
like a flame-red new-cast penny set upon the ledge
of that calmer ocean on the horizon’s edge.

See it slip so quickly into the ocean’s slot,
making us forget for now all that we are not.
All of life’s frustrations, all misbegotten schemes,
are flushed into the water to sink into its seams.
This is why we gather to watch the sunset’s beauty.
every single evening—as though it were a duty.

The prompt today was murmuration.

QUERY

Query

Have you a pattern for your life
wherein you’ve cut out stress and strife,
only allowing perfection?
Is every day a new confection—
cherry pie and chocolate cake?
No rejection? No heartbreak?
No erstwhile friends or jealous crazies—
your entire life a field of daisies?
It must be great, without a doubt,
but what have you to write about?

The prompt word today was pattern.

When in Love

“Love Charms” mixed media assemblage, Judy Dykstra-Brown

When in Love

Life’s puzzles all seem solved when love makes you replete.
It  fills in all your caverns, making you complete.
No matter what the the time frame: a lifetime or a minute,
love is not an abstract when you’re firmly in it.

The prompt today was abstract.