Tag Archives: RDP

Interlopers

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Click on first photo to enlarge all.

“I don’t know that there are real ghosts and goblins, but there are always more trick-or-treaters than neighborhood kids.”     —Robert Brault

Interlopers

They watch the clock, waiting for dark,
impatient for their All-souls lark.
Small ghosts and goblins screech and moan,
their ghastly act to finely hone.
“Eye of newt and toe of frog,”
Mother prompts, as off they jog—
little witches in Walmart capes
with itchy tags upon their napes.

Meanwhile, other ghastly things
soar in on brooms, flap in on wings.
They’ve found that yearly secret door
under the earth, under the floor,
and creaked it open. Joining the flood
who lust for treats, they lust for blood.
Who among us might ace the task
of sorting countenance from mask?

That little vampire, newly gone—
was his blood real or painted on?
“Double double toil and trouble,
cauldron boil and cauldron bubble.”
Were those lines recently rehearsed
or are these witches instead well-versed
in brewing up a recipe
of wing of gnat and eye of bee?

Which ghoulies real and which ones playing?
Which ones begging? Which ones preying?
What other night of any year
do we open doors, devoid of fear
for such strange beings? Who thinks of this—
Hershey’s kisses or vampire’s kiss?
A silly poem. When small ghosts boo, they
offer no real threat. Or do they?

 

IMG_8456

 

Prompts for today are the secret door, adage, screech, treat and clock. Since one of the prompt words was “adage,” rather than use the actual word in the poem, I used a quote (an adage of sorts) by Robert Brault as inspiration for this poem.

All Hallow’s Eve

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All Hallow’s Eve

The children are ebullient as Halloween grows near—
the day when even scaredy cats put away their fear
and dressed as itchy scarecrows with straw stuck in their britches,
 go to meet with zombies and ghosts and ghouls and witches.

Little tiny mummies wound up in mommy’s sheet
naively think they won’t run home at the first witch they meet.
When they knock on neighbors’ doors, it is their fondest wish
that they’ll be met at once with piles of candy in a dish.

M&M’s or Hershey bars, popcorn balls or Snickers.
When their bags get full, they stuff the pockets of their knickers.
If any folks procrastinate in answering their door,
retaliation calls for soaping windows. Maybe more.

Only Scrooges turn out lights, do not hand out treats,
and when they hear their doorbell ring, sit stubborn in their seats.
So get your candy ready, for night will soon be falling
and all your neighbors’ ghoulish kids will for sure be calling!

Prompts today are falling, procrastinate, naive, ebullient and dish.

If you’d like to see a recap of last year’s Halloween in Missouri, here ’tis. https://judydykstrabrown.com/2017/10/31/happy-halloween-from-morehouse-missouri/

Feeling Poorly

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Shades of pumpkin face. What I look like!!!

I’ll do you the favor of not taking a selfie of my grotesquely swollen face. A 1 a.m. mad dash to hospital emergency last night did not seem to do anything to solve the problem so I need to be off again to try to find a solution after zero sleep last night. Poor, poor Pearl. What am I doing blogging? Just passing the hours until the lab and dentist office open up. Then another trip to a doctor to get results of blood tests. 

Feeling Poorly

The solution to my problem may be labeled as arcane,
for all attempts to solve it have been, alas, in vain.
I’ve visited three dentists but the jagged pain persists,
driven to emergency, gripping the wheel with fists
at 1 am, hoping that I’d soon be on the mend,
but alas is seems as though my pains aren’t going to end.

New antibiotics that have not as yet kicked in,
my pain pills ineffective, I cannot resort to gin.
Two teeth pulsing, face swollen from jaw to cheek to eye.
Skin pulled to the bursting point. I’m barely getting by.
With not one hour of sleep last night, I’d better catch a cab
to take me back to Ajijic for blood tests at the lab.

I’ve got to ask my dentist to try to fit me in,
but all-in-all my patience is wearing rather thin.
Once I’d grown accustomed to all my regular ills,
clear on how to treat them with my handy stash of pills,
it seems that Mother Nature is up to newer tricks.
Is messing with us humans the way she gets her kicks?

If she wants to pay us back for ills that we have done,
could she pick a guiltier target with whom to have her fun?
I’m trying to do right by her by cutting down on trash,
recycling all my plastics, my cardboard and my glass.
And I can give directions to Washington D.C.
so she can plague the guilty guys and lay off li’l ole me!

This is a poor excuse for a poem. Just can’t think of anything else at the moment as I wait for the medical world to awaken. I’ve had a miserable night.

Signs of a sad Halloween

Prompt words today are mend, regular, jagged, arcane and drive.

Blind Date

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OldPaintDuckieSoulRedBlind Date

I’m idling at the stop light, irate at the delay.
Though your chatter is innocuous, my nerves begin to fray.

As I gun the engine, the car leaps from the ground.
Is there a single subject on which you won’t expound?

Every single statement hits another nerve
as the tires chew the road up and navigate the curve.

I finally reach your neighborhood and my spirits soar.
We say good night and I am gone before you reach your door.

As blind dates go, this was the worse. For sure, there’ll be no other.
Never again will I accept a line-up by my mother!

Today’s prompts are light, irate and innocuous.

Karma

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Screen Shot 2019-10-25 at 9.22.14 AM.pngphoto by Darren Halstea, Unsplash. Used w/ permission

Karma

Can we extricate ourselves from all the evil we may we do,
or once we meet our maker will fate drop the other shoe
and will the evil we have done be visited on us?
On our journey to Nirvana, will we have missed the bus?

Will we be held accountable for all that we have done?
Once our life is over, will atonement have its fun?
Will there just be the help for us that we’ve given to others,
so our lack of mercy toward enemies and brothers
will be visited upon us, in spite of all our pleas—
past cruelties unfurled on us as we beg on our knees?

How many lifetimes will it take to extricate our being
from the fate we’ve set in motion? How long ’til we’ll be seeing
that the future ills we suffer are the ills we’ve done the world,
and in each evil act, our own future was unfurled.

Prompts this week are accountable, total, Karma, extricate and help.

Rubber Boots

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Rubber Boots

All the flowers are crying, their petals streaming drops
inherited from rivers flooding over troughs
running up above them, collecting all the streams
that run down the roof top and across the beams.

The rainfall is most copious. It kisses windowpanes
with countless fractured raindrops, each falling where it deigns.
If this were not a school day, I’d run about outside.
This staying inside looking I cannot abide.

I’d rather splash in puddles, damming off the flood
with my rubber rain boots, crushing down the mud
to form private embankments to stem the rushing tide.
What an unfair punishment, this keeping me inside.

Reading, maths and spelling cannot hold my attention,
for I have these new rubber boots I am driven to mention.
I can’t wait ’til recess so I can try them out,
for in rainy weather, splashing’s what it’s about!!!!

 

Prompts today are “a flower cried,” school, crush, copious and kiss.

Photo Credits: Red boots by Rupert Brooks , blue boots by markus Spiske, both on Unsplash, used with permission.

Indulgent Parents at the DMV

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Indulgent Parents at the DMV

You’ve studied so hard and we’re screamingly proud.
You’ve done everything perfect, for crying out loud.

You’ve conquered the manual, drive in the dark,
avoiding pedestrians. Parallel park.

You knew all the signals for stopping and turning.
Looked perfectly calm, though your stomach was churning.

It’s such a travesty  you didn’t pass.
That inspector was prejudiced, ornery and crass.

Your driving test was perfect. Almost.
Anyone could have missed seeing that post!

 

Prompts today are travesty, scream, manual, loud and almost.

Split

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Split

They gather round the pool for a glass of wine—
their voices soft as butter with a continental whine.
Their conversation heady. She’s finally arrived,
running from that castoff life that she barely survived.

She changes personalities according to her whim.
She became a baroness the moment she met him.
Tonight in the wine bar, perhaps she’ll be a waif.
In such low localities, a title isn’t safe.

The fantasies of childhood have certainly paid off.
One day she is a Renoir, the next she’s a Van Gogh.
One face follows another with a costume change.
Her various identities show an extensive range.

Being so many people is her brand of fun.
You’d call her a chameleon if you knew more than one.
But she is very careful. One identity per friend.
She saves her next identity for those met round the bend.

 

Prompt words today are butter, heady, glass, pool.*This poem was not written about the girl in the photo. I love this photo I took of my niece and although I felt the image worked to illustrate the poem, it is not illustrative of her personality.

Cartoon Thinking

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Cartoon Thinking

If our thoughts grew out of us in a gigantic bubble,
perhaps they might give warning to keep us out of trouble.
They might flow on ahead of us in a big balloon
to tell folks what we’re thinking, like in a cartoon.

Sometimes our thoughts scream out at us. At other times they whisper.
Sometimes our minds are in a fog. At other times they’re crisper,
but with prior warning of dangerous or sad thoughts,
perhaps our friends would intervene to circumvent  bad thoughts.

Folks in crowds we’re entering might split to left and right
when we’re in a pissy mood and spoiling for a fight.
Those we meet might warn us of what we’re about to think,
or chuckle at our naughty thoughts and give a little wink.

What would the world be like if folks knew everything we thought?
One friend would know we hate her hair, one know we think he’s hot.
There would be no mysteries, not one Christmas surprise.
No detecting secret thoughts by staring into eyes.

The whole world would be literal. No nuances or mysteries.
Strangers would know our secrets, both our present and our histories.
No reading of expressions, for the truth would all be there
floating in thought bubbles, right above your hair!

Prompt words are scream, ahead, bubble, right.

Skinny-dipping in One’s Sixties

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Skinny-dipping in One’s Sixties

While driving on a country lane, I spy a little lake
and decide that I should skinny-dip, just for old time’s sake.
Lack of a suit is not a problem, for this spot is so secluded
that I jump into the water both nuded and deluded,
for after just five minutes, although the night is dark,
three cars pull up with lights full-on and proceed to park
directly in my exit spot with windows all rolled down,
music spilling out from them. Teenagers from the town
out here for the thrill of it to swill a little beer
and have a wild party with no parents near.

Like a deer in headlights, I am blinded by the glare.
I quickly put my hands back to obscure my derriere.
Then, desperate for cover, sprint for a nearby bush.
But when I cover up my front, I have to bare my tush.
Skinny-dipping simply doesn’t work with lookers-on,
and I guess that I am trapped until these partiers are gone.
With no hope on the horizon, I hunch and drip and cower,
forgetful of the blanket I had slung over a bower
just a few short yards away, but finally I sprint for it,
and wrapping it around me, I am grateful that I went for it
in spite of all the cheers and huzzahs and the blinding light
of the headlights of the teenagers who view my frenzied flight.

Once I reach my car, the far horizon is my goal.
I gun the engine and I speed over dip and knoll.
If I need to teach the lesson of this ill-advised adventure
of senior citizen skinny-dipping, I’m the one to censure,
for I was a solo-act swimming swimsuit-free,
and the only one that I can implicate is me.
I guess that skinny-dipping is best left in the past,
for the skinny body necessary simply doesn’t last!

Prompt words today are forgetful, horizon, desperate, implicate and deer.