Tag Archives: eyes



I simply cannot reconcile that glimmer in your eyes
with any look that I’ve received from any other guys.
My friends say you’re perfidious, yet I don’t get that message.
“Danger” is an ending that your gazes do not presage.
If the frustration that I’m feeling is transmitted in my gaze,
perhaps you will decipher it while wandering its maze.
For every time you’re present, I’m a prisoner of pondering
that question in your eyes that always sets my mind to wandering
down pathways we meander, walking hand-in-hand.
So long as you are in my thoughts, my heart is in remand.
We need a kind interpreter to set our looks aright.
Perhaps there’s a happy ending for him to expedite.


Prompt words today are frustration, reconcile, agastopia, perfidious and message.

Agastopia: Admiration of  or a fixation on a particular part of someone’s body.

In the Flash of an Eye

PA260088 - Version 2

This entire Skype conversation occurred during the passing of a minute as I talked to Forgottenman on Skype just now:


Judy, 1:32 PM Just saw a mouse run across the floor and then realized it is a new and very big floater.

Judy, 1:32 PM We’re all performing at Open Mike today . . . Man those little mice are running all over, including right across the middle of my vision.  So strange. Sometimes side to side, sometimes up and down in both eyes. Never had this happen before. Like a meteor shower

Judy, 1:32 PM OMG!!! It was two little ants racing across my glasses!!! I swear. I just took them off and noticed one, killed it, and when I put them on again, I had another flash. Took them off and it was another ant! Bizarre.

Forgottenman, 1:32 PM

Judy, 1:32 PM
The most strange experience ever.
Who would guess? And quite a relief. I feared it was a detached retina.

Forgottenman, 1:32 PM
That’s a WONDERFUL short blog!

Judy, 1:33 PM
I swear.. that all happened in real time as I was typing to you.

Forgottenman, 1:33 PM
Cut & paste our conversation.

1:33 PM
I couldn’t figure out why the cat hadn’t responded to the mouse as it flashed right in front of her.
Ants are big when they are a half inch from your eyes

Ghostly Happenings


It floated off to the side,
disappearing when I turned to face it head-on.
It hadn’t his features, really,
but I felt his presence a dozen times after—
something floating just off the corner of reality.

Then, weeks later, in the bedroom—a bat.
It flickered against the white curtain and then disappeared.
Moments later, there it was again.
I jerked my head quickly around, flipped the curtain out,
examined its other side.
Moments later, there it was again.
Then a circle floated across to join it.
A hair floated down from above and stuck, center-vision.

A few hours later, the fireworks started—
flashing corollas of light just to the right of me,
like subtle flashbulbs going off.

This was when I decided I needed to see a specialist.
Yes, a retinal detachment, he agreed,
but not yet perforated.
Now, my movements curtailed,
I await that new cloudy ghost
that will be a harbinger
of surgery.

Every tope, every cobblestone
brings a new flash of light—
a signal to still myself.
No jumping. No Zumba.
No jogging. No lifting.

I wait, inactive, watching floaters
move to the center of my vision
and off to the side again.
I practice various levels of exertion,
waiting for the flash that signals rest.

I wait for words to float
across my vision,
to rend my inactivity
and prompt me
to pin them to the page––
to stitch them together
into a clearer sight
of what is there, invisible,
inside me, waiting for the tear
to let it out.
They are the ghosts
of the future
and I am the one
who seeks to gather them,
to mend the tear
and anchor
these slippery ghosts.

As we sat in the waiting room waiting (of course) for my eyes to fully dilate so the dr could do his tests, Gloria asked what the red dot was on my blouse. I hadn't noticed it, but the nurse said, "Oh we put that on her to show she'd been dilated!"  Two hours later, I was still waiting for the dot to turn green so I'd know my eyes had returned to normal!!!!

As we sat in the waiting room waiting (of course) for my eyes to fully dilate so the dr could do his tests, Gloria asked what the red dot was on my blouse. I hadn’t noticed it, but the nurse said, “Oh we put that on her to show she’d been dilated!” Two hours later, I was still waiting for the dot to turn green so I’d know my eyes had returned to normal!!!!

Red Dot Syndrome

Red Dot Syndrome

Artist's rendering of my retinal disfunction.

Artist’s rendering of my retinal disfunction.

Gloria, contemplating my fate.

Gloria, contemplating my fate.

Retina specialist humor.

Retina specialist humor.

An undashing pirate wench

An undashing pirate wench

My reward!!! Gloria got to share.

My reward!!! Gloria got to share.


In the Blood (Entertainment?)

In the Blood!!!

Don’t you just love football—the running and the tackling?
The sounds of hamstrings pulling and the crunch of femurs crackling?
We sit up in the bleachers eating hot dogs, drinking beer,
comfortably viewing blood sport—the kind we hold so dear.

Aren’t dogfights lovely–the growling and the whining?
Too bad they aren’t more elite, so we could watch while dining.
So amusing watching canines being dished their due.
Dying is so entertaining when it isn’t you!

Better still are bullfights, though they’re few and far between.
The bull so lithe and dangerous, the matador so lean.
The best part of the sport is that the dying is so slow.
I feel its thrill suffuse me from my head down to my toe.

We adore big game hunting in such exotic lands–
our chance to prove our manliness with our own two hands–
handing over money to those trackers in the know
who guarantee an easy kill with rifle or with bow.

Easy on the hunter, but not the animal,
for just because he’s hit the prey’s not guaranteed to fall.
We get more for our money if he’s hard to track,
and war games are more pleasant when one’s foe doesn’t shoot back!

All these minor titillations just a prelude to
the main event and the most major way of counting coup.
Once all the good old boys are finding life is just a bore,
they round up all the younger men and send them off to war.

See how the valiant struggle, see their stripes and purple hearts–
apt pay for missing arms and legs and other blown off parts.
Lucky to be home at last and lucky to be living–
the products of that blood sport that just somehow keeps on giving

Repost of a poem from 3 1/2  years ago.  Crocodile photo new!  More to follow. The prompt today is entertain.

Dry Eyes


Dry Eyes

Your eyes were dust, mine were a flood.
The combination, a mire of mud
that we somehow wound up in.
You blamed it on original sin,
but I, agnostic to the core,
had wisdom to walk out the door
to spend my tears on other guys.
Never trust a guy with arid eyes.


The prompt word today was arid.

Eye Eye


Three hours at the eye doctor’s and $900 later, I have a new pair of progressive lens eyeglasses ordered so no more jiggling two pairs of glasses not to mention having to locate them twenty times a day.  This was the cute lady in the frame fitting room modeling a pair of glasses ordered by a man who insisted he wanted rose colored lenses.  It was special order requiring much work on their part and of course when they arrived he took one look and said, “They’re pink!”  The ladies said yes, that is what rose was and that was why they’d tried so hard to dissuade him from them.  Yes.  They’re going back to be redyed.  And yes, they forgave him.  They looked great on her so I made her try them on.  Actually, I really liked them on me, too, but my budget is shot for the time being.  My next glasses will come from China, but progressives call out for the human touch.  Two more days to go before heading northwards.