Tag Archives: SoCS

Open Hand for SOCS, Sept 12, 2025

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Open Hand

Wings held lightly without crushing
survive to join the world’s wild rushing,
while love held by a tight-clenched fist
quells half our reason to exist.

Some laud passions most rapacious—
grasping, volatile, tenacious;
but this is not the love I feel.
I do not seek to swoon or reel.

The tenacity of a skin tight glove
might stay my soaring to heights above.
I need your love like an open hand.
Not for me the wedding band.

The bond I seek from you, my dear,
is not the gauntlet that I fear
but rather, fingers whose sensations
are left free to life’s elations.

Butterflies kept in a jar
lose that beauty seen from afar.
That grace of movement caught on air
is what makes their beauty rare.

I love it when your arms enfold,
but if you love me, loose your hold.
The measure of my tenacity
is that I’ll come back to thee.

jdbphoto

The SOCS prompt is “Hand.”

The SOCS prompt is “Hand.”

“Hope” for SOCS, Sept 5, 2025

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I can’t resist reblogging this blog I wrote in 2016 for the SOCS Saturday prompt, which is “Begins with ho.” After the poem, there are additional links that finish the tale if you have the patience to read them.

Hope

IMG_5964Hope wears a white apron and a pensive smile!

Hope

I hope life turns out as you wish and is a bowl of cherries.
I hope you find a run of luck and that it never varies.
The whole world would be lucky, if I had my “druthers.”
Every line would catch a fish. All orphans would find mothers.
All endings would be happy. All lottery tickets win.
But as I stop to think of it, I have to think again.
If all of us were winners, winning would lose its distinction.
Every hunter bagging game would lead to their extinction.
It seems that often one guy’s luck brings bad luck to another.
If you’re the family favorite, then it cannot be your brother!
So if I must express my hopes I guess that I’ll just say
I hope that when it is your turn, good luck will come your way!

Now I have to tell the story about my camera, which showed up missing (oxymoron) the day after I’d met friends in the Ajijic plaza coffee place. I’d run a number of errands that day, and so after I had searched my house for over an hour, and my car, and my garden, I headed off for town. Was it at the coffee place? No. Either of the stores I’d visited? No. I headed down the street to Ajijic Tango, where I’d had comida with my friends. All locked up. Seeing a door ajar a few yards away from the entrance, I called into it. It must be the kitchen. I called and called and finally someone came. I gave them a note asking the owner to call me.Then I went home.

A day or so ago I wrote about a friend in Missouri who tends to straighten out my life for me on a regular basis? Well, I wrote to him bemoaning the fate of my camera. Within the hour, he had sent me a link to a local message board and lo and behold–there was a picture of my living room with friends I’d invited to a viewing of the new documentary of another friend all sitting in it! A picture that had been in my camera! Turns out the lady pictured above had been approached by a man who tried to sell her a camera. “He asked too much” she said in her message, which stated that when she’d inspected the camera, she had surreptitiously removed the sd card from the camera as well as three more in the pouch of the carrying case, then posted one of the pictures on the card in hopes of finding the owner.

Did she know the man who had the camera? She did. Long story short, she went to his house to ask about the camera. Sadly, he reported, it had stopped working. (He still didn’t realize she’d taken the sd cards out. Brilliant move on her part.) Did he still have the camera? No, he had given it to his son, who, it turned out, worked in the restaurant next to where I must have lost my camera! After a few more trips to enquire on her part, the next morning I recovered my camera from the son, giving him a good reward, although he didn’t ask. I then recovered my four sd cards from the angel pictured above and gave her a reward as well, in spite of her protests. And that is how my Music Man in Missouri once more came to my aid and turned disaster into luck. (If you regularly read my blog, you might have guessed that I cannot survive without my camera.) What does this story have to do with hope? Simply that I hope if you ever lose anything dear to you that you have two angels looking over you as I did!!!

“Toast” for SOCS (Here’s to the Bride) Aug 29, 2025

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Here’s To The Bride

The groom’s family was titled and a bit anachronistic.
So when they saw the bride, I fear they went a bit ballistic.
Instead of white she wore a dress of scarlet oddly draped.
The mother of the groom grew faint. Her husband merely gaped.
She wore something archaic instead of merely old—
her grandma’s feather boa—a bridal statement bold.
Around her neck, a python, and her arms were densely bangled.
Her veil pinned to a tractor hat of satin, oddly-angled.
The brim turned back as though she were an umpire at a game.
In short, the bride’s ensemble was anything but lame.

As she hip-hopped down the aisle to a tune by Kanye West,
the groom stood fondly watching her in morning coat and vest.
Her lipstick blue, her bustier was borrowed and conditional
on return to its owner in a manner most traditional.
To complete her fashion statement, her combat boots were blue,
and if you’ve paid attention, you could guess that they were new!
Her bouquet was fresh dandelions bound up with some chives.
She held it in one hand and with the other, gave high fives
to friends all up the aisle as she jerked her way on by.
The groom’s mom gave a shudder and his father gave a sigh.

So did this modern wedding  forsake the antiquated
with customs much less stuffy, less predictable and dated.
The wedding fare was tacos, Cuban sandwiches and chips,
jelly beans and donuts, crudités and dips.
No caviar or salmon. Just ribs and Tater Tots.
The toasts to bride and groom were made with Jello shots.
The wedding cake was chocolate with custard between layers.
Good wishes voiced by ministers, gurus and namaste’ers.
In place of rice the bride and groom were showered with quinoa.
In short, it was a wedding to rival mardi gras!

The SOCS prompt is “toast.”

The Birth of Poetry for SOCS, Aug 22, 2025

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The Birth of Poetry

A pad of paper and a pen––
when these two meet, new worlds begin.
Born in the head of one who writes,
each magic word many more ignites
until at last, the story’s told,
once more as in days of old.
How many years may it have been
since first a poet lifted pen?

 

May I invite you to lift your pen to comment below?

The SOCS Prompt this week is “Pad.”

A Simple Solution for SOCS Aug 16, 2025

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DSC08473I found five old passports and an international driving permit from 1986.
Why, oh why can I not find my current passport?


A Simple Solution

An extra hour would be nice. A day’s not long enough.
I know I’d use the extra hour looking for lost stuff!
My passport has gone missing and it’s been a major pain.
I would give most anything to have it back again.
I’ve looked in all my files, my drawers and every purse.
I have too many places. It couldn’t get much worse.
If I ever find it, I’ve made myself a vow to
make my life much simpler, if I just could figure how to!

 

I actually lost my passport a few years ago. I looked for it for  4 or 5 hours without finding it, but  my housekeeper found it in 5 minutes when she came the next day––in a place where I’d looked twice!!! She lit a candle and said whenever I lost things I should do the same. She says her friend has a Virgin and Child statue, and whenever she loses anything, she takes the baby out of the mother’s arms and says she’ll return it when she has helped her to find whatever she has lost!! Talk about blackmail in high places! Ha. A simple solution.

The prompt for SOCS is “Simple.”

For SOCS toes or tows prompt

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Juxtaposition

Artistic types must juxtapose
these to these and those to those
just for the contrast, I suppose.
Somehow, each artist simply knows
to vary hues that they impose
upon the subjects that they chose
to depict from head to toes.

Poets may likewise words oppose,
and so may writers given to prose.
Composers also juxtapose
in sonatas or do si dos
whatever music sweetly flows
from saxophone, fiddle or Bose.

Shoulder to shoulder, nose to nose
such contrasts form the undertows
that draw attention, lift our lows
stir lethargy and banish woes.

As all these contrasts come to blows,
so our imagination grows.
Time enough to nap and doze
when life draws nearer to its close.
For now, stay open  to the shows
of all who seek to juxtapose.

Prompts for this week’s SOCS are toe and/or tow. I used them both…and a few other “ose, oes and ows” as well.

“Forest Sunset” for Friday SOCS

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Version 2

Forest Sunset

In the forest, wild and lush,
hear the music of the thrush
break the stillness of the brush.
If else disturbs it, make it hush,
for we have fled the world’s mad crush
with all its craziness and rush
that grinds sensation into mush,
distilling it as mindless slush.
The world flares up, the clouds are plush
as we see all its bloodshed flush
into the sunset’s subtle blush.

The Friday SOCS prompt is “blush.”

“Fishless Chips” for SOCS, July 18, 2025

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I received the below new lunch menu from a local restaurant :


A NEW LUNCH MENU is being offered from 11:00 am to 2:00 pm

  • Fish & Chips with Coleslaw
    Burritos ( Shrimp or Fish)
    Chimichangas (Shrimp or Fish)
    Tacos Shrimp or Fish
    Large Salad with  Shrimp

          This was my mental reply to their message:

          Fishless Chips

          Never have I had a wish
          for any kind of seafood dish––
          fillet of flounder or tuna knish.
          The only menu I find delish
          is piscine-free, served with a flourish.
          So if this bod you wish to nourish,
          just french fry spuds and skip the fish!

          The prompt for SOCS is “chip.”

          Child of the Fifties for SOCS, July 11, 2025

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          Child of the Fifties

          daily life color146 (1)

          These folks were the epitomes of every her and him.
          The men were all smooth-shaven with haircuts short and trim.
          The ladies of the fifties had their pearls and curly hair,
          and fancy little house dresses were what they chose to wear.

          Their kids were the epitomes of reproductive joy
          who could serve as patterns for the perfect girl or boy.
          They came out cute and perfect, created just to please.
          They never fought or cheated or brought home F’s or D’s.

          How do I know that what I say is not stretching the truth?
          How do I know these folks were all red-blooded, honest, couth;
          and that every one of them maintained the status quo?
          I know for I’m the perfect child that sits in the front row

          who somehow by the sixties  got somewhat out of step
          and later by the seventies had misplaced all her “hep,”
          did not become a hippie until nineteen eighty seven,
          and will join the moral majority  too late to get to heaven.

          I am not the epitome of any group you know.
          I do not wear the clothes you wear or go where you may go.
          Epitome’s a talent that I forgot to hone,
          and ever since I’ve chosen a pattern all my own.

          So, thanks to Forgottenman for reminding me it is time for SOCS. Today the inspirational word is “curl.”

          Cracked Open, for SOCS July 5, 2025

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          The Day Cracked Open Like an Egg

          IMG_4736

          The Day Cracked Open Like an Egg

          The rain falls
          fresh as cucumbers
          on cobblestones and tiles,
          the dust of summer
          washed from crevasses
          and curves of stone and clay.

          The air is cleansed
          of the scent of primavera,
          jacaranda
          and flamboyan trees
          and the whole world
          breathes easily again.

          Clouds dried up
          by sunlight,
          the silent birds
          are flushed
          from their covering leaves
          and open in chorus

          to the booming crack
          of cohetes, splitting the air
          in celebration
          of Saint John the Baptist
          who has baptized all
          this day.

          The prompt for SOCS is “Something that opens.”