Tag Archives: FOWC

The Education of a Prodigy

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photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash. Used with permission.

The Education of a Prodigy

It’s true he was sardonic, which made it rather hard
for him to assimilate in the schoolyard.
In short, he was precocious, advanced beyond his years.
It’s when it came to social skills that he was in arrears.
He couldn’t really bat the ball. He failed at pitch and catching,
and when it came to fielding, he just excelled at scratching.
When other kids made fun of him, he whipped them with his tongue—
a most distressing habit in one who was so young.
His teachers merely shook their heads and gave him up for lost,
for he took instructions poorly, refusing to be bossed.
It wasn’t until college, when he met a certain “Miss”
that his sharpened tongue was rounded by  a simple good night kiss.
Surprising how true love can bring an end to lifelong ills.
Now she gives the instructions and he just pays the bills.

Prompt words on this Friday the 13th are sardonic, assimilate, precocious and scratch. Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash. Used with permission.

 

Late Starter

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Late Starter

He called his dad a troglodyte, his sisters, basket cases,
although he was not brash enough to do so to their faces.
He felt himself the underdog—blamed for everything.
He felt his wings were clipped, although he dreamed of taking wing.
Someday he would spring the trap and he would show them all.
But until that day, he’d simply hang out at the mall,
checking out the chicks and panhandling when he could.
He knew he could do great things and some day he would,
but no one gave him chances. The Mexicans and Arabs
with their Virgin Marias and their half-moons and their scarabs
were taking all his jobs away. He didn’t even try.
Why should a decent white guy bother to apply?

How dare his dad declare that he has nothing on the ball?
He is kept plenty busy holding up this wall.
When the other wall is built, his life will come together.
He’ll get some fancy job and break the family tether.
Get a real cool crash pad and party with his friends.
He’ll make some just as soon as this foreign invasion ends.
Time enough for school once Trump takes out the trash.
Then he’ll ace his classes and rake in the cash.
He’ll show every idiot who claims he is a bum
that he is the genius. He’ll show them who is dumb!
Those guys who hang out at the mall in every sort of weather?
If we could read their thoughts, they just might be birds of a feather.

 

Prompt words for the day are troglodyte, brash, underdog, spring. Mall photo by Neel Tailor, used with permission. Other photos by Judy D-B. 

The Fix

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The Fix

They say it was just happenstance that they ever met—
she a wealthy spinster, he of the lower set.
He liked his women spicy. She was a basket case.
She, aloof and cloistered, considered workmen base.

She had notified the landlord of a problem with her plumbing.
For at least a week, he promised that someone was coming,
so by the time the plumber finally came to fix her pipes,
she was apoplectic—chock full of niggling gripes.

Any other normal man would have been offended
when she hovered and she chattered as he soldered, wrenched and mended,
but he had an even temperament, so he maintained his cool
as she niggled over every move and questioned every tool.

Finally, as she hovered, questioning that and this,
he simply rose and drew her into a passioned kiss
that stifled all her sputterings
and muffled all her mutterings,

until she ceased her protests, surrendered to the fun
and  repaid him all his kisses, returning one for one.
It was a simple wedding with little pomp or strife.
And that is how the lady found someone to fix her life.

 

Prompt words for the day are happenstance, aloof, spicy, notify and basket.

Tropical Gig

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Tropical Gig

A cricket and a katydid in need of some excitement
when the cold winds started, and with no other incitement,
set out on upon a sea journey, their ship an old guitar.
(It wasn’t very roomy. Oh, but it was yar!)

They christened her as Lulabelle after an old amor.
They thought they’d sail the whole wide world from shore to shore to shore.
Setting off from Mexico, they drifted with the breeze,
their water and provisions stacked up around their knees.

The cricket sang such lullabies. The katydid chimed in,
a catfish as a tagalong stroked rhythms on its fin.
Guileless in their motives, they sought no fame nor riches.
From port to port they drifted, with only minor glitches.

On Isla Mujeres, they met a small land crab
that had been used in research in an oceanic lab.
It lit up in the darkness with a thousand little lights.
And so they offered it a ride to light up starless nights.

They drifted off to Cuba atop an ocean swell,
telling all the stories that they had to tell.
Traitorous loves and conquests, flight through the summer night.
The sand crab told of capture after a valiant fight.

The cricket had such stories of houses he’d been in.
The katydid could mime a leaf: long and green and thin.
When they made their music, the crab just clacked its claws.
All night they chirred and clattered—sometimes without a pause.

By the time they got to Cuba, they had a stirring act.
They drew the gulls and pelicans to listen—it’s a fact!
They got a gig in Havana, playing in a bar,
drawing folks to hear them from both near and far.

The cricket’s name is Chirrup and and Katydid is Slim.
The Crab’s name is Oblongus—based on the shape of him.
Their act can be heard nightly in the ocean dunes,
where they will serenade you with their blended tunes.

 

 

 

Prompt words for today are guitar, guileless, traitor, research and excitement.

Why Second-hand Adventure is Good Enough for Me

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(Click photos to enlarge and read captions.)

Bit of a climb.
Finally, happy campers.
In the begiinning, explorations and good times.
The morning after!

Why Second-hand Adventure is Good Enough for Me

There was a time in college when we thought we would go camping.
It took  a lot of packing and some walking and some stamping
to rid the site of red ants and to cut away the bushes,
to find a level spot for our bedrolls and our tushes.
It’s good that we were youthful, and accustomed to reversal,
for when it came to camping, this was our first rehearsal.

None of us were nature girls. This was our trial run.
We came for something different, just to have some fun.
We brought a giant bottle of cheap rosé and chips.
Some white bread and bologna. Some mustard and some dips.
Our hopes were grand and hopeful. We were fervid in our dreams.
We lugged all our equipment down faint trails and forded streams.

Lugging a giant cooler, water and some some spray
in case there were mosquitos, slowly we made our way
down to small rude patch of ground that sloped down to the creek.
 My German Shepherd Gretchen went ahead of us to seek
out squirrels and other wildlife that she had a chance to get,
scouting ahead for creatures that might have posed a threat.

The day passed without conflict. We hiked and talked and ate.
We had no trepidation about what would be our fate.
Our night was spent less pleasantly as we slowly slipped
downward hour by hour until finally we dipped
our feet into the water of the creek just down the hill.
Certainly by sunrise, we three had had our fill

of the stones and bugs and soakings that we all had  faced
as all night long my dog barked, ran back and forth and chased
imaginary creatures hidden in the dark
In the end, our camping wasn’t such a lark.
We had a hasty breakfast and as we packed up our gear,
we apologized to others camping far and near

for my dog’s disturbance for the whole long night.
from the first star’s appearance to the first morning light.
And then they told us something we hadn’t known before.
We were camping in bear territory, and they said, “What’s more,
if you had foodstuff with you, your dog did you a favor.
Bears are very partial to young ladies of your flavor!”
And so that first time camping turned out to be our last.
Our setting up went rather slow, but breaking down went fast.
We packed our car and sped right down those twisted mountain roads,
right back to the city. Right back to our abodes.
I gave the dog a juicy bone and flipped on the TV,
sure that second-hand adventure was good enough for me.

 

Prompt words today are fervid, reverse, youthful, giant and camping.

This was a real-life adventure with my good friends Jean and Joan Lenzi who were twins and my college roommates. R.I.P. Jean and Joan. We had many adventures together and this was one of the first ones.

Calling Trump

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Calling Trump

No remnant of credibility that he might have had
at the start of his dark odyssey clings to this foolish cad.
Claiming to solve problems that his actions just exacerbate,
mere echoes of his words still chide enough that they infuriate.

Of the seven deadly sins, he’s had a taste of all.
When, if they are so deadly, will they bring about his fall?
Lust and gluttony? For sure. Greed? No doubt about it.
Sloth and wrath, envy and pride? What sane man would doubt it?

He’s left his presidential desk, preferring his own throne.
He borrows other people’s deeds to claim them as his own.
He manufactures science, quoting no valid source.
Lessens the force of hurricanes while altering their course.

There’s nothing that he cannot do, at least in his own mind.
To serve his ends, he’ll put entire countries in a bind.
He’ll trump the hand of anyone. This game is not so hard.
If it’s lacking in his hand, he’ll just invent the card!

 

Today’s prompt words are infuriate, borrow, odyssey, remnant and seven.

Mask

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Mask

I’m not as sure as I may seem. I’m nude under my clothes.
All my outer calm aplomb is just a studied pose.
Friends find me enigmatic. There is always something new
under this staid demeanor that’s the me that you can view.

I wield advice as though it is my rapier or sword.
Laughter is a weapon that belies the fact I’m bored.
Nothing records my progress. I’ve no lines upon my face.
For me time wields no marker. Passing years have left no trace.

My oldest friends have no more clue of who I may be
than my newest acquaintance. There is no knowing me.
I’m a perpetual puzzle locked up in a box.
I never shed this mask you see below my graying locks.

Prompt words today are marker, nude, advice, enigmatic and new.

Memory Games

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Memory Games

Half over-achiever, my other part is zen.
Sometimes I concentrate on now, other times, where I’ve been.
This morning’s evanescent. I can’t remember shit.
I know I found my car key but what did I do with it?

Ameliorating circumstances? Sorry. There are none.
I simply have no memory of what  I have just done.
I know I wrote a poem, but I can’t recall a bit.
I haven’t the foggiest memory of what I said in it!

It’s said I have good judgment and a judicious mind,
but as to short-term memory? I fear I’m in a bind.
I remember blow-for-blow what happened as a child.
My college years I recall well. My twenties are well-filed.

When I write, the memories pop readily to my brain.
It’s only hours later that the memories don’t remain
of what I have just written or the words that I have used.
The present and my recent past simply are not fused.

So if you want a memory, please choose one in my past.
The farther back, the better, if you want my reply fast.
Fifty years ago are fine. The details I’ll relate.
But details of this morning? I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.

Prompt words today are ameliorate, judicious, zen, evanescent and bit.

Broken Dreams

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Annie at 17 years old.

My seventeen year old cat, Annie, has for the past two years been awakening me at various early-morning hours to be fed. It makes no difference if I feed her at midnight or 2 am or whenever I choose to turn in for the night. At 4 or 5 or 6, her piercing yowls shock me awake and there is nothing to be done other than to get up to flop an entire can of Fancy Feast into her feeding bowl. She’s taken over my bathroom with her food and water dishes, her litter tray and her bed, so for two years I’ve showered in the guest shower. This old girl rules my world. Today’s five o’clock awakening gave rise to this poem. 

Broken Dreams

I doused my dream to greet the day, but to my great annoyance.
reality, alas, cannot compete with its flamboyance.
The dream was psychedelic and meandering in its plot.
It had all the excitement that my waking life has not.

Before the day resumes its hold, since night is not yet done,
I’ll return to my pillow and awaken to the sun.
The old cat’s fed, the dogs still sleep and so, with luck, shall I.
Perhaps I’ll find that dream again. At least, I’m going to try.

 

Annie at one month, in my headphone case.

Prompt words today are psychedelic, doused, annoy and day.

High Finance

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High Finance

Dabble in the market? I’d do so if  I could,
but to instigate investment? I fear I never would.
I prefer my piggy bank. I save my loose change there.
Never have I broken it. I really wouldn’t dare.
I have it on a high shelf next to a crystal prism.
To get the money out, I’d have to create such a schism
that I could  never fix  it, so I just don’t have the heart.
I prefer my piggy bank as a work of art.
The value that’s within it I find is secondary.
I’ll just use my credit card at the Cash and Carry!

Prompt words for today are schism, instigate, dabble, unlikely and could.