Tag Archives: rainy day

Rainy Season Whine

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Rainy Season Whine

They can’t control the weather. The rain is its own boss.
So in the rainy season, we get our share of moss.
It wouldn’t be so bad if it would just grow where we choose,
but in the rainy season, it grows inside my shoes.

From June to September, we fall asleep to rain
and then in the morning, we wake up to it again.
Our clothing’s always soggy. Our clean cars do not last.
We can’t sit on the patio for a light repast.

We cannot play touch football with the wife and kids,
for when we do, our touchdowns wind up as muddy skids.
The dog does not get walked enough, so he’s a restless doggy,
and when we order pizza, the box is always soggy.

Pent up with our families, tempers sometimes flare.
Dad wigs out when the roof leaks, sis bemoans her frizzy hair.
Mom says that the fudge won’t set and brother is complaining
that the wifi doesn’t seem to work so well when it is raining.

We know the flowers need it, as does the reservoir.
Restrictions in water usage in the summer are a bore.
It’s true water’s a blessing. We are much in its debt,
but is there no way to get it without getting wet?

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The FOWC challenge word today is control.

Creatures under Rain

 

 

 

Creatures under Rain

All day long, the rain came down
to soak the mountain, drench the town.
Each dog stayed in to curl into
his protective curlicue.
I took their lead and kept inside
as the world around me cried and cried.

Though I won’t say that I’m feeling down,
I do not choose to paint the town
and marks on paper have turned into
other than a curlicue.
I painted what I felt inside
with words that folded in and cried.

Their pigments bled and rivered down
joining currents from the town,
and tears from other creatures, too,
joined this watery curlicue.
This whirlpool that we’d kept inside
joined us together as we cried.

The sun comes up and moon goes down
over country, lake and town.
Illumination cycles, too,
through nature’s dizzying curlicue.
When we share these truths we’ve found inside,
others hear what we’ve decried.

The whole world may be feeling down
dreading contact with the town.
The words we free may catch them, too,
in their discursive curlicue,
loosening pain they’ve kept inside—
dispelling tears they might have cried.

 

I was intrigued by the self-set challenge of composing a five stanza poem where each stanza made use of the same six rhyming words in the same order. I think it isn’t terribly noticeable except for the unusual world “curlicue” that eventually tips the reader off as to what is happening.  Still, it was an engaging challenge to make it work six times.What should I name this form? Six-Step? Any other ideas? The prompt today is creature.

G’Day Mate!!!!

G’Day Mate!!!

Today Was A Good Day!  Among other things, Pasiano and Yolanda and I unpotted plants from burst pots and replanted them in new spots in the garden or in new pots.

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Here is our pile of broken pots–big ones!  We will put the shards over the ground in places we don’t want Morrie to dig!

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Here is my newly potted pineapple plant, now in the sun where it will actually grow fruit. Before it was practically obscured by other plants.

IMG_3989And here is the rascal who has been eating my Virginia Creeper!!! We’ve been looking for him for weeks!  As you can see, he had just taken a chunk out of a leaf when Pasiano nabbed him.  If anyone knows what kind of moth he turns into, please let me know.  I once researched it but can’t remember.  We relocated him onto my spare lot.  Hope he likes Castor bean plants as much as Virginia Creeper! The mystery was solved within a minute of my posting when MLou wrote that this fella (or lady) is a Tomato Hornworm.  I looked it up and sure enough, she is right.  It grows into a Hummingbird Moth, which is so called because it looks and acts amazingly like a hummingbird. I’ve never seen one, so I think we are doing too good a job of getting rid of the caterpillar stage.  One year I had one as a pet.  It is a remarkable story that I will try to post later.

IMG_3993Look how he holds on to the branch with his five sets of legs. So proper looking like a butler.

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I love his little tail that looks like one of those brushes you buy to clean between your teeth! His coffee bean tattoos.

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His mouth like a rattlesnake rattle or if you take his entire head into account, like a parrot’s beak.  Fascinating little outer-space-looking creatures that I wouldn’t mind having around if they wouldn’t absolutely decimate my Creeper vines!!! This fella was about 4 inches long.

IMG_4003Here is my Virginia Creeper minus ET.

Yes, it has been a good day.  Tonight I’m going dining and dancing with a friend and although today is sunny and bright, everything is verdant green because of the daily rains we have been having.

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On Monday, my covered patio looked like this! The water couldn’t drain fast enough and was inches deep.

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This odd little object sticking up from my terrace floor that looks like a chandelier globe is actually formed by water that can’t get down the drain fast enough.  I think there was a leaf obstructing the flow.

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When my plants are happy, I’m happy, and doesn’t this look like a cheerful bunch?

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/today-was-a-good-day/

Barrage

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The sun has gone down and it rained all day today, from the moment I woke up to the present. I decided to spend the day inside. I was trying to watch an episode of “The Voice” sent to me by a friend when the opening line of this poem started running through my mind. So, the program frozen in the middle, I wrote, then had to go take photographs and feed the dogs who now curled back into the beds where they’ve been all day. To be truthful, I spent part of the day in bed, myself. No heat in houses in Mexico, other than a small space heater by my desk. My bed has a mattress pad warmer. Reason enough.

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Barrage

All day long, the rain came down
to soak the mountain, drench the town.
Each dog stayed in to curl into
his protective curlicue.
I took their lead and kept inside
as the world around me cried and cried.

I will not say I’m feeling down,
though I did not choose to paint the town.
My marks on paper turned into
other than a curlicue.
I painted what I felt inside
with words that folded in and cried.

Their pigments bled and rivered down
joining currents from the town,
and tears from other creatures, too,
joined this watery curlicue.
This whirlpool that we’d kept inside
joined us together as we cried.

The sun comes up and moon goes down
over country, lake and town.
Illumination cycles, too,
through reason’s dizzying curlicue.
When we share these truths we’ve found inside,
others hear what we’ve decried.

The whole world may be feeling down
dreading contact with the town.
The words we free may catch them, too,
in their discursive curlicue,
loosening pain they’ve kept inside–
dispelling tears they might have cried.