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Copa de Oro: Flower of the Day Challenge, Nov 5, 2016
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Tag Archives: Daily Prompt
Baseless
When I saw that “base” was the prompt word today, the first connotation that crossed my mind was how my mother used to use it when describing something evil, tawdry, low-down. Someone had a base intent, performed a base action or a photograph or story was base and tactless. As I remember it, she was not the only one to use the word in this manner, so I was surprised to find no mention of it in online dictionaries. There, a base was merely the lower part of something, the basis or foundation. And so the piece I wanted to write I found to be baseless in fact. Ironic, on this morning when I have an appointment and need to be elsewhere soon.
I’ve since been assured by Kate that she, too, knows that connotation of the word, but it brought to mind to me that everyone must have one phrase or saying or word used in their family that they later found was not known to the world in general. I’d love to hear any stories about your peculiar family words that you’d care to tell–either by pingback to your blog or just as comments below:
The prompt today was “base.”
Tete a Tete
Tete a Tete
She seems to have made a career
out of practicing “sincere.”
Her trembling lip, her balanced tear
as she murmurs, “Oh, my dear,
I’m sorry, I know how you feel,”
work better when they’re meant for real.
In fact, she only lends an ear
because of what she hopes to hear––
shocking, scandalous or queer.
And oh, my dear, she’ll persevere.
Huddled over a drink or meal,
she can hardly hide her zeal
as she brings up your greatest fear––
your erring child or spreading rear,
the lover who’s been gone a year,
that bank loan that’s now in arrear.
She only asks because, you know—
just because she loves you so!
In patience, she is without peer.
She’ll face you, rapt, her face thrust near,
and ply you with another beer.
She is your confidant—your seer.
And though she says her lips are sealed,
her oath will too soon be repealed.
Her parting kiss, it would appear,
is offered to the ionosphere.
It makes no contact. Does not adhere.
It seems like she’s shifted a gear.
The next time she dines out, it’s true,
she’ll be dining out on you!!
The prompt word was “sincere.”
Blind Judgment
“Macho” by Judy Dykstra-Brown, jdbphoto
Blind Judgment
Wielding words like bludgeons, they stumble through our world,
supporting fools as their gods, confederate flags unfurled.
Motivated more by hate than any rational thought,
they’d have no more spices added to our melting pot.
Hooligans wielding bludgeons as simple as a vote
cannot see the truth of what their voting might denote.
A businessman with ethics determined by the dollar
seems to have convinced them he’s the friend of the blue collar.
Bankruptcy and divorces, rash words and rasher actions.
Tax-dodging obligations, like a child in his reactions.
His minions yielding bludgeons, be they cudgels, guns or mallets,
now have it in their power to trash the world with ballots.
So all these bleating sheep with their lovely little daughters
will feed them to misogyny, like lambs led to their slaughters.
What leads nations on in these times of mass delusion?
Tomfoolery and hate and fear can lead to mass confusion.
We’ve seen it down through history with Hitler and Pol Pot.
Attila and Idi Amin, Gaddafi and Sadat.
All the blind majority led onward by a dunce.
All the dark sides of the world coming out at once.
Please, fathers love your daughters and mothers love your sons.
Protect them from the hatred of bigots wielding guns.
From politicians inventing facts and changing history,
leaving devastation wherever they might be.
We’re taught that justice must be blind to shield in its detection
of prejudice, and yet that selfsame blindness in election
may lead to faulty judgment that leads to foolish acts.
We should not cast our ballots when blinded to the facts.
The prompt today was “bludgeon.”
Some Little Nonsense on the Subject of Copycats
“Coming and Going.” Although I am in the proximity of this dog and undergoing the same experience, you will note that I maintain my individuality by presenting my best angle to the camera in direct contrast to the dog rather than imitating him. And, as a side note, I was here first.
Some Little Nonsense on the Subject of Copycats
Some folks’ originality comes from what they view,
proving that old adage, “Monkey see and monkey do.”
And there’s another label coined from denizens of zoos.
A “copy cat” is one who mirrors everything he views.
But I find this last one puzzling, and so I’m asking you,
have you ever known a cat to do what you want him to?
Whatever he might see you do as he edges nearer,
is likely what he will ignore, not what he’ll choose to mirror.
It’s true that cattle move in herds and wild geese mimic flight,
and no one knows what sister acts mice practice in the night.
Yet all animals aren’t so easy, in spite of what you think.
You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.
You cannot tell a cat to do what you want him to.
What you desire from that cat is what he will eschew.
Sit or fetch? Roll over? Those things hold no attraction.
Cats simply are not at their best when you prompt interaction.
So let’s dispel this rumor that cats are good at mimicry.
For though they like to bat at strings and other hanging gimmickry,
they don’t want to imitate any other creature.
For in the world of animals, each cat is the main feature.
The prompt today is copycat.
Mr. and Mrs. Bones: Eerily Irresistible
There were a few costumes at my friend Audrey’s Halloween party that were like magnets to my camera. These two kept drawing my eye because every change of expression was magnified by the face paint. Somehow, these particular paint jobs rendered the wearers an incredible goofy sweetness that I couldn’t stop photographing. They are sort of eerily irresistible.
For other eerily irresistible costumes and faces, look HERE.
BP and Me
BP and Me
Cook a bowl of oatmeal and throw some apples in.
Cinnamon and cranberries and walnuts are no sin.
Gotta get the pressure down––of both my life and blood.
So no more salting French fries or pies of chocolate mud.
I exercise enough, I think, nighttimes in the pool;
but midnight trips out to the fridge brand me as a fool.
So a giant bowl of oatmeal with milk that is nonfat
and a bit more exercising where I once just sat
will guarantee I’ll live at least to one hundred twenty.
I’ll have lower blood pressure and zip I’ll have aplenty.
There is no secret to long life and staying young and burlier.
The answer lies in giving up life’s pleasures a bit earlier.
The prompt word today is “Giant.” (It’s not too obvious what this poem has to do with the prompt word until the second stanza, but originally, I had “giant bowl of oatmeal” in the first line. Alas, no rhyme presented itself, so “giant” got relegated to a bit further down in the poem and became less relevant. Oh well. Main purpose of the prompts is to get us started, anyway.)
Crossings
Crossings
A river between us, each high on a ridge.
If we’re ever to meet, we must build a bridge.
But it’s hard to accomplish unless we take hand
to collect the cement, the gravel and sand.
So those of us tired of manual labors—
not given to chitchatting much with our neighbors—
can go on our blogs to find our own kind,
constructing bridges purely of mind.
Blogging is great to bring folks together
on separate continents, in any weather.
We can be lazy, me here and you there,
building our bridges with ease, through the air.
Not over yet! Now click on this URL:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9_8KpR49bFI
The prompt today was “bridge.”
Rearrangement
Rearrangement
As long as my world keeps on changing,
it’s going to require rearranging.
Poor Pasiano bears the brunt
of labor as we shift and hunt
for repair tiles for the bath.
Their tiny chips create a path
from cabinet through the garage,
joining others in the barrage
of hidden things brought to the light
that fill my garage like a blight.
For fifteen years, we have been stacking
tiles here in their paper packing.
But boxes stowed away so nice
have since been frequented by mice
who ate away their once sharp edges
so tiles fall on shelves and ledges,
spilling out to bite the dust
of chewed up paper and dirt and rust.
All these years of accumulation
lead to mess and perturbation.
Would that I’d left it as it was,
hidden out of sight, because
now we have this awful mess
and to be truthful, I must confess,
I’ve lost my patience for this sorting.
I would rather be cavorting
in the pool or on the page.
Instead, I search and stack and rage.
Dusty, back-sore, tired, deranged—
I also have been rearranged!
(Click on first photo to enlarge pictures and read captions.)
One problem is the salitre that has risen up through my Saltillo tiles throughout the house.
But this meant sorting through 15 years of boxes of tile to see if I had enough marble tiles as well as mosaic tiles that would match the ones presently in my bathroom.
Unfortunatey, not only were all of my boxes of the many different tiles used in my house stored in a difficult cabinet to reach, but also, mice seemed to have used the boxes they were in for material to build nests.
This meant removing all the tiles and a trip to the dread Walmart to try to find boxes small enough to store them in so they would fit back into the narrow cabinet.
Neither a fun project nor an unmessy one.
The prompt word today is “rearrange.” How appropriate. In the next month, I’ll be replacing all the floor tiles in my house and changing my oversized built in tub into a shower. Major remodeling here, and it was necessary to sort through an entire cabinet in the garage to try to find tiles to match the wall and tub tiles and marble inlay. As you have seen above, it was no easy task, thanks to 15 years of rodent activity hidden away in the recesses of the difficult-to-access storage cabinet where we’d been stacking different tiles for years.
Wordless
Wordless
Your words so vivid
that they roped me,
binding me securely
as they drew me in.
The rub of your words
and their scent and flavor.
Their nubbiness and length
and width and breadth.
The hands of your words
uprooting me
and planting something
solid in my place.
How could I have known
one day they’d vanish
as though never there.
Smoke signals
from a distant hill
now risen from my sight
and almost rubbed out
from my memory.
The prompt word today was “smoke“.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 