Tag Archives: #FOWC

Peaceable Kingdom

 

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Peaceable Kingdom

Zoomorphic figures abound in the numerous sculptures and paintings on my shelves, tables and walls, and also around the pool where Morrie, Diego and Zoe take turns being the center of attention. Morrie’s stardom will always involve a ball being tossed—either into the water or down to the garden level below the pool. Zoe’s will involve rigorous play activities with either Diego or whichever human strays into her territory. Diego’s will involve interaction with Zoe, since she was thrust into his life suddenly upon my return from the beach two months ago.

We have formed a colony—Zoe, Diego, Morrie, my visiting cousin Kirk and I. The pith of our union is three-and-a-half-month-old puppy Zoe, who blithely goes about doing her mischievous business. Even the cats put up with her like saints. Her biting, chewing, jumping, yipping, purloining of cat food and general puppyness is tolerated by all. The cats have been known to join Zoe and me in bed. Diego watches her like a hawk, shielding her from dangers. Morrie occasionally yields his ball to her—a huge concession for his one-track mind to make. It strains credulity that he would surrender his most treasured object to anyone other than a human ready to throw it for him to retrieve.

For the last two days, I have been a martyr to amoebas and today I have finally given in and gone to bed. From my bed of pain, I can see their reflections in the pool and hot tub. Diego is positioned parallel to the edge of the pool on his stomach like a reclining Anubis, but with front legs crossed. Morrie is sitting on haunches on his grass throne in a large flower pot adjacent to the pool. He chews on his beloved tennis ball, not bothering to drop it into the pool for Kirk to throw for him as Kirk is for the moment absent—gone to liberate a pepperoni pizza from the oven.

Zoe lies on the thin ledge between the hot tub, its water still too hot to enter, and the cooler pool, which Kirk exited a half hour or so ago. If Kirk were here, he would worry, calling her away from the water that streamed  boiling hot into the hot tub from mineral springs twelve hours ago, but two months of observation have taught me that she knows its dangers—knows how to test its temperature with her nose without actually touching the water.

Now cousin Kirk momentarily casts his reflection into first the hot tub, then the pool, as he passes with pizza fresh from the oven, his plate held high to repel curious noses and hungry jaws. The canine and feline segments of our conclave were fed hours ago. The pizza is all his as I feel as though I’ll never want to eat again. The coral of the sunset sky is slowly fading to gray and the cicadas that the locals call rain birds are continuing their late afternoon/early evening chorus, signaling that the rainy season will begin in approximately 40 days. It will be Zoe’s first experience with rain. Will she try to chase each raindrop or to capture the circular swirl of water rushing down the drain on the terrace? Will she quake at the house-jarring bolts of lightning and cracks of thunder? Always a new thrill for a puppy just three and a half months old. And always a new center of interest for those of us who watch her.

The attitudes and responses of the cats five times her size when I first brought her home will be the topic of another conversation. At present, one curls to my side and the other one between my feet as I lie on the bed, knees bent into a vee to support my laptop. Suffice it to say that for the moment, this is a peaceable kingdom, a mutual-admiration society (except for the antagonism between the two bigger dogs and two cats) and I am well-pleased with all company present, hoping they are equally well-pleased with me.

For Day fifteen of NaPoWriMo, we are to write a poem about something we have absolutely no interest in. For some reason, I started out thinking that was what I was talking about, then strayed into the topic below which is exactly the reverse of the suggested topic. Since it is the first time in the nine years I’ve been writing a poem a day for NaPoWriMo that I’ve strayed from the suggested prompt, I’m giving myself permission to stray this one time and instead using the five prompts from my usual prompt sites. I’ve been gone all day and now that I’m home, the electricity has been going off every few minutes for the past hour. Grrr. Gotta get this posted while I can.

Prompts today are colony, zoomorphic, credulity, pith and reflection.

And HERE is Kirk’s version of his afternoon. The dogs love him and it is reciprocated.

 

The Changeling

The Changeling 

At heart I am a changeling, born of fairy stuff.
Reality and daily life simply are not enough.
I yearn for the forest, the valley or the ness.
The only place where I’m content is the wilderness.

And though siblings are rosy and love to laugh and shout,
frolicking like puppies as they roll about,
my skin is wan and pallid and I do not care to play,
keeping mortal company constantly at bay.

Faux parents can’t facilitate my raging appetite,
nor my predilection for the deepest night.
I was born of different stock, unsatisfied and mean,
preferring solitary life, untouched and pristine.

And though I petition that I be let alone,
those who come upon me, alas, are often prone
to try to draw me out, an act that I rebuff,
for I find myself to be company enough.

Somewhere in the forest, in a cavern or a tree,
I know that there resides the opposite of me,
living far away from the place where they were born,
dreaming of the family that they miss and mourn.

Two unhappy doppelgangers, always just off-mark.
One languishes in daylight, the other in the dark.
We stand before a funhouse mirror and without a doubt,
One is looking into it, the other looking out.

While somewhere in the vast lost world, parental arms are aching
for the child that long ago was of their dual making.
What evil force declared that both sets of parents should pine
for the natural-born child each yearns to claim as “mine?”

Those who seek disruption wander through our life,
seeking to take action that cuts us like a knife.
War and rape and pestilence, disorder and melee,
substituting one child and taking one away.

What more brutal action than this cruel deflection
that subverts two tiny lives, causing lifelong dejection?
The human-born and changeling, forced into different lives.
A honeybee and hornet forced into warring hives.

The changeling and the one replaced, both of them misplaced,
yearning from the life from which they’ve been displaced.
Who can blame their solitude, their yearning to be other?
Wanting to take one life and trade it for another?

Prompts for today are changeling, pristine, petition, facilitate and wilderness.

Note: A Changeling is a fairy  that has been substituted for a human baby. While changelings can look like anyone, they do have a true form. Their natural look can be scary to some due to their lack of detail and distinctive features. Their skin tone is always pale, either white or light gray, and they tend to have slender bodies with limbs slightly longer in proportion to other humanoids.The surest way to tell if you have a Changeling on your hands is by observing the temperament of the human in question. Changelings are constantly unhappy, unfriendly, and mean. They may be very cold and aloof, and may even recoil from human touch. Changeling babies’ appetites are never satiated. They may develop nocturnal habits and are abnormally aware of paranormal activity. The mortal child is taken back to the realm of the fairies to be raised and put to work, while the creature left behind usually sickens and dies.

Deirdre of the Sorrows

Misnomer

Why so taciturn, my friend? Are there things that displease you?
If you’re amenable to chat, perhaps I could appease you.
When they named you Deirdre, what could have been the reason?
To give a child a moniker like this is surely treason.
They put it on the record the day that you were born
that you were predetermined with propensity to mourn.
What sort of security is this to give a child
otherwise unblemished—beautiful and mild?
Such a tragic future and so many doleful morrows
must greet a child named after Deirdre of the Sorrows.

 

Prompts today are security, amenable, taciturn, moniker and record.

Mirror Image


Mirror Image

She’s a dingy sort of doppelganger, lackluster and fretful,
and when I’ve caught a glimpse of her, she seems to be forgetful.
She looks surprised to see me and although it should be magic,
when she catches sight of me, it seems she finds it tragic.

It’s a shame she never catches me when I am at my peak,
and so I seem to be an image that she’d like to tweak.
We both look in the mirror and we don’t like what we see,
the irony of that being that both of us are me!!

 

Prompt words today are doppelganger, tragic, forgetful, dingy and peak.

About the assemblage:

              “After Picasso: Self-examination” 

The watch part that serves as the womb to the woman beats with the pulse beat of the child within, whereas the mirror reflection contains no moving parts.  An antique “Tabu” powder tin  is imprisoned in an old  pocket watch case.  A tiny portrait of a woman is framed by one of the watch parts that make up the rest of this collage.

Culinary Apologies

Culinary Apologies

Though some would say that I’m a flake
when I’m called upon to bake,
and though I qualify just barely,
I feel I’m typecast most unfairly.

True, I rank with all the rookies
when it comes to baking cookies,
and my cupcakes don’t win prizes
at anything but worst surprises.

Nonetheless, my precedent
at providing less than I had meant
is never intentional.
It’s just that I am rather dull

when it comes to pleasuring
by sifting, baking, measuring.
I lack that culinary calm
so never cook without a qualm.

When I baked banana bread
and measured powdered sugar instead
of flour, yes, I must confess
it created an awful mess.

And when I burned the chicken stew
because I had so much to do,
I hope that you remember that
I trimmed the plants and fed the cat,

wrote a poem and made some art,
(scorched the toast and burned the tart)
took the puppy for a walk,
phoned a friend and had a talk.

So though my fridge is lacking stuff,
I find my life is full enough
All in all, what I’ve got cookin’
may not be where you are lookin’.

Prompts today are flake, calm, intentional, typecast and precedent. (If you want to read about the powdered sugar debacle, click on the link where it is mentioned in the poem.)

Early Release

Early Release

He barely saw the morning view, he was in such a pother.
He skipped his juice and pancakes. He simply couldn’t bother.
Today no one could find a way to dispel his grief.
His nervousness was clear to all. He couldn’t find relief.

His summer bliss was over. The truth blatantly cruel
as his worst fears came true at last with the first day of school!
He dragged his book bag in the dust and lagged behind the others.
He’d be out at the fishing hole if he had had his druthers.
Pencils his ma had sharpened, he broke against the wall,
so when he had to write things down, he’d have no way at all.
He used his brand new ruler to pry up stones and rocks
to catch red ants and spiders to tie up in his socks.
He caught a lizard just before it zipped under a log,
and put it in his pocket with a field mouse and a frog.
So when he got to school he’d have ample ammunition
to bring the brand new school marm to a sure state of contrition
for imprisoning them all inside on such a nice fall day,
and school would get out early if he had his way!

Prompt words for today are grief, nervous, pother and morning view.

Shards: NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 9

Shards

Plates crashing against the wall: mneumonic reminders of you.
Nobody does better this contradiction of wedding vows.
Pushed to the brink, you speak back
in this, your own special Braille.
Our wedding cup—my heart
shattered against the wall—
a ragged souvenir
of broken
vows.

 

For NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 9 the prompt is to write a Nonet. But, after writing this, I realized I did it wrong, counting words instead of syllables. See my rewrite HERE.

Other prompts used in this post are plate nobody, brink, mnemonic and contradiction.

Opening Night Jitters

Opening Night Jitters

I’m consumed by stage fright. Please bring me my wrap.
This whole acting “thing” is a barrel of crap.
My memory’s kaput and I have a bad cough,
so before my first snafu I’d better take off.
There’s a good possibility that I might faint.
It’s clear that an actor I certainly ain’t.

 

Prompt words are stage fright, wrap, snafu, kaput and possibility. Image by Redd TK on Unsplash.

Perpetuity

Perpetuity

Let loose of our salacious world. It’s residue set free.
Ersatz news and angry words are not what you should see.
Trivial and idle minds feed on their sensation,
then spin their lives out caught up in a constant consternation.
We choose the world where we belong by what we hear and see,
and that’s the world we live in for perpetuity.

 

Prompt words today are residue, trivial, salacious, ersatz and belong.

Coin Flip

Coin Flip

I always knew that our love would be dicey.
With you sea lion slippery, piquant and spicy,
your imposition into my life
was bound to cause turmoil and possibly strife.

But you brought excitement and offered a piece
of pleasure that lasted devoid of surcease.
Both sides of the coin I was willing to share,
watching the disc as it spun in the air.

Heads you were up and tails you were down—
one side slightly clouded, the other a clown.
The cusp of your mood I could certainly bear
for the promise of future bright times we would share.

Until that last coin toss when you spun away
with no possibility of a next play—
your coin sitting silent upon a high shelf
while I learned to toss the coin for myself.

Prompt words today are sea lion, imposition, piquant and piece.