Tag Archives: #RDP

Birth of a Couch Potato

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Birth of a Couch Potato

The crush of humanity, swell of the crowd,
demands a new edict. No  pushing allowed.
Thus turning the scene a tad melancholy,
whereas in the past it had been pretty jolly.

The policy depended, primarily, on shaming
certain well-known revelers I won’t be naming,
by branding them careless , ill-mannered and rude
and other crass labels that I won’t include.

Suffice it to say that this official labeling
contributed much to their social disabling.
Now they sit home getting flaccid and flabby,
watching old episodes of Downton Abbey.

.

Prompts for today are crush, swell, shaming, flabby, policy and melancholy .
Image by Eric Mclean on Unsplash

Future Shock

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Future Shock

On our way to maturation, when we’re adult-bound,
childhood’s denizens are most likely to astound.
Expressing new insights, they make statements bound to shock
that upon close scrutiny, their elders choose to mock.
Patterns of behavior that they, too, exhibited,
glorying in actions their elders once prohibited.
Thus does every generation choose to shock the last
as their predecessors fade into the past.
Time is a marsh that buries memories of old
as each new wave of humans discovers acts more bold.

 

Prompt words today are patterns, insight, scrutiny, marsh, childhood. Images by Tamara Bellis and Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash.

Tourist Trap

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Tourist Trap

“Any gremlins hereabout?” a tiny woman queried,
inspecting piles of autumn leaves for any bodies buried.
I’d feared she was a tenderfoot when she had signed up
for this Halloween adventure, but I evilly quipped, “Yup.”
Every freckle popped out as her face blanched to pure white
and her muscles tensed up to prepare for fight or flight.
She surveyed every shadow on the path that led us up
to the haunted mansion where the group of us would sup.
The scene was dark and moonlit and the shadows all reached out.
A most effective scary atmosphere, without a doubt.
The spooky creaking of the door as we reached the house
was echoed by the squeaking of every resident mouse.
The furniture was draped with ghostly sheets covered with dust,
and every metal object wore a crumbling scab of rust.
Eerie portraits on the wall. Thick drapery that soon
we’d draw back so the diners could view a harvest moon
as they supped on boiling cauldrons of steaming witches’ stew
and rich red wine in lieu of blood would simply have to do.
What is it about Halloween that makes folks crave a scare
so much that they would pay us to bring them to this lair?
Mortals are so gullible, and now the time draws near
when they’ll become the spirits who’ll conduct the tour next year!

 

Prompts today are tenderfoot, scene, gremlin, hereabouts, freckle and furniture. The photo is of the Lord Crewe Arms in Scotland, an abbey built in the 12th century and later turned into a hotel. My mother and I slept in its haunted room overlooking the graveyard in 1985. If you want to hear what happened, go HERE.

Bride’s First Meal

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Bride’s First Meal

It was a layered casserole of maize and squash and beans
whose contents were indigenous and well within her means.
She blanched and drained and layered in a metal pan.
She followed all directions and plotted out each plan.

Dabbing on her favorite essence, she donned his favorite dress.
With the front door open, she didn’t have to guess
when he was walking up the lane and so she would be able
to greet him with a soulful kiss and dinner on the table.

But, her first endeavor which she’d hoped would be delicious,
in fact was not ambrosial, but instead pernicious.
It seemed as though the entire dish might be having troubles
as it rose above its boundaries with ominous pops and bubbles.

In short,

These were the things that went amiss
after his entrance and their kiss.
She rued the day that dish was born.
The squash was tough, as was the corn.

Instead they went to Burger King
and ordered one of everything,
came on home and gorged on it,
so their first meal was quite a hit.

She pitched her failed attempt within
a nearby waiting rubbish bin.
She was smart and so good looking.
He didn’t wed her for her cooking.

 

Prompt words today are ambrosial, endeavor, indigenous, essence, metal and lane.

The Waystation

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The Waystation

Awakening in the half light, upon investigation,
I find the sun is still in early stages of gestation.
As the day swells out her stomach from its early morn enclosure,
her womb is still half empty, eschewing full disclosure,

I sink into my pillow and wait for the full light,
held prisoner by the darkness, promised freedom by the light.
One part pulled by sleep, the other rues this hesitation,
caught here once again within the dawning day’s waystation.

 

Prompt words today are half light, eschew,  stomach and investigation.

Familial Disapproval

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Familial Disapproval

When he swears when the champagne cork hits him in the eye,
my brother’s new fiancee utters a “My, my!”
then swipes the bubbles from her upper lip with  polite tongue.
(She’s squeamish about swear words and she calls the cork a “bung.”)

Her brow furls with referrals to anything unsavory.
(She prefers her history minus genocide or slavery.)
“If you can’t say something good, then don’t say anything at all.”
she says, and then says little but “Oh, really?” and “Y’all!!!”

She’s a proper southern girl with mild disposition.
She would not think to put you out or cause an imposition,
yet when I ask if she is hungry, she admits, “Yes, just a bit,”
and when I put the tea cake out, she eats three-fourths of it!

She never wastes her precious time when visiting by sitting
and conversing with the family. Instead, she brings her knitting,
and bottom lip between her teeth, she counts her knit and pearling.
concentrating on her knitting needles’ rhythmic twirling. 

You might surmise she’s not my favorite, or second, third or fourth
girlfriend he has brought home from East and West and North.
This Southern girl sticks in my craw, I just cannot get used to her.
And you can bet I’m dreading the day my bro’ gets fused to her.

Prompt words on this Solstice morning are: hunger, disposition, squeamish, bung, referral and knitting.

Excessive Angst

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Excessive Angst

He suffers not from nuance. His moods are all too blatant.
He bares his anger to display a violence once latent.

His colossal fits of rage reveal that he abhors me.
His reputation slips a notch, and in the end, he bores me.

 

Prompts today are colossal, display, reputation, bare and nuances.Image by Alessandro Bellone on Unsplash

A Cherry Perfect Birthday

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A Cherry Perfect Birthday

Tomorrow we will celebrate my sixth year jubilee
with a little party just for my family.
Grandma’s going to catentate
cherries and lard and flour
and add a bit of sugar to make the fruit less sour,
then proceed to put it in the oven to cook up
into my favorite cherry pie upon which we will sup.
Thus will fruit and grain and fat conspire to create
a birthday treat the thoughts of which make me salivate.
Birds may like cherries in the wild directly off the tree,
but baked into my grandma’s pie tastes way better to me!!!!

Prompts for today are: jubilee, proceed, pastry, catenate (to join together), bird and grain.

Pink Lights and Tequila

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Pink Lights and Tequila

She met him in a barroom. His first contact was a wink,
and their time of courtship was over in a blink.
She didn’t note his platitudes and chauvinistic thinking.
That’s what comes from being wooed when a girl’s been drinking.
The impact of tequila shots has done in more than one girl,
making one who’s ordinary seem to be a fun girl.

A current ran between them. Rainbows issued from the lights,
giving a pink glow to cheeks and lower sights.
Thus did soft lights and alcohol add to their delight.
She seemed to him a princess. He seemed to be her knight.
They wed just six months later and divorced within a year.
Sparks ignited in the tavern fizzle out in life, I fear.

Prompts today are rainbow, impact, platitude, current, chauvinist and pink.

Culinary Taboos

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Culinary Taboos

Hot dogs, tacos, ham on rye
are the ways that I get by.
I don’t like caviar on toast,
and what I really hate the most
are liver, tripe or heart or brains.
These are the things my taste disdains.
I cannot masticate and eat
These things that, think, digest or beat.
The height of what my mouth deplores,
they’re  what my stomach most deplores.
And it has never been my habit
to eat lamb or veal or rabbit,
possibly because it gets
me thinking about former pets
and liaisons with baby creatures
that were very frequent features
in a childhood wherein we
sheltered a menagerie
of magpies, bunnies, kittens, rabbits
that fulfilled my parents’ habits
to collect those orphaned things
that often life presents and brings
to those who notice what is needed
by those abandoned or defeated..
Zippy, Fluffy, Tiger, Poo
were the names of just a few
babies that became our peers
within our formative years,
which is  why I still dispute
eating things so young and cute.
But reasons that I do not eat
any fish or organ meat? 
The answer is succinct and easy.
They just simply make me queazy!

True story? Yes, we really did have a baby raccoon named Zippy and all of these other orphaned animals brought home from the ranch by my father and raised like her own kids by my mother.
And yes, this poem rambles a bit, but for Pete’s sake, look at the prompt words!! Not complaining, just explaining….And that is Zippy up there as an illustration not of a possible cuisine choice, but he was one of our orphaned animal adoptees.

Prompts today are zippy, possible, rye, liaison, height and shelter.