Tag Archives: SoCS

Stream of Consciousness Saturday Prompt: Clown

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Here is the lithograph I based my poem on:

Pablo Picasso

And here is my poem:

On Picasso’s Imaginary Self-Portrait

Is it conceit or self-knowledge
that makes you paint yourself
in the ruffed collar
of Shakespeare
or a clown?

Satyr, young at heart,
your merry countenance
masks darker moods and behaviors,
the bright pigments
hiding a more somber undercoat.

Picasso,
your children
and your mistresses
might paint you as master:
stern, egotistical,
but always with the backlit inspiration
of genius.
Yet, old goat,
you paint yourself a clown.

For Linda’s SoCS prompt “clown”.

Meat Market for SOCS, Nov 3, 2023

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Version 2

Meat Market Surprise

Her low-cut dress clearly bespoke
her dire need to meet a bloke.
When she removed her swathing cloak,
a dozen men at once awoke
from barroom reveries to choke
on swallows of their Rum and Coke
or beer or whisky. “Okeedoke!”
their eyes said, as they shared the joke.
Which one would have the night’s best poke?
One chugged his drink, as if to stoke
his courage. One more took a toke.
They circled round, craving the yoke
of one night’s spree–perhaps a soak
in penthouse hot tub most Baroque?
Then, as though wishes could invoke
more luck, a mini-skirt and toque-
clad example of fine womanfolk
appeared , more passions to provoke—
another goddess made to evoke
a duel, heart attack or stroke!
But then, alas, their bubbles broke
as she sauntered up and pulled an oak
stool to the bar and spoke.
Her voice was sultry—fire and smoke—
as she killed their dreams in one fell stroke.
“Darling,” she said to the other miss,
enfolding her in an ardent kiss.

 

For #SOCS: Meat (This is a reblog of a 2019 poem, but since all of my writing is stream of consciousness, I figure it meets the prompt.)

Prime

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Travel Primer (Past Our Prime!)

We wander narrow alleyways in countries that are foreign—
negotiate their tunnels, like rabbits in a warren.
We do not pay attention as we ogle and we gawk
who may follow closely—who may observe and stalk.
We are naive travelers. We’re innocents abroad.
One listens to our narratives, then signals with a nod
just as we are reaching to try to reimburse,
for another watcher to swoop down on our purse.
Then they’re off down alleyways where we are loath to go
where they’ll have their own adventures—financed by our dough.

For #SOCS Oct 7, the prompt is “Prime.”

 

“Running Away” for SOCS

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My garden
This is the view from the hammock.
And so is this.
And so is this.

And for another reason I run away to the garden and/or hammocks, go HERE
to see what else I see from there. 

For SOCS Sept 16, 2023

Nightmare, for SOCS

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Nightmare.

Come here, my dear.
Those dangers near,
though they appear
to mock and leer,
will not come here.
So dry each tear.
Danger’s jeer,
it’s truly clear,
is just sheer
groundless fear.

The prompt for SOCS is to grab the book closest to you, open at random and use the first three words of the first full sentence on that page to start your post.  Here goes….The book was The Blue Butterfly by Leslie Johansen Nack. The three words, Come here, my. . . .
Image by Paz Z on Unsplash.

Number 9 Blues

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Number 9 Blues

Those eyes,
that song,
A bird the color
of the moon
we met under.

The wind
a ribbon of sadness.
Cold hands,
broken heart—
all the hue
of a trumpet’s lonely staccato.

For Stream of Consciousness Saturday: Pick a Number.

Back of the Fridge

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Back of the Fridge

Free from the air current’s rush and flow,
the fridge back’s where the spiders go
to spin their webs and catch their prey.
We should give thanks for them, ‘cuz they
 trap flies that land upon our snacks,
dive-bomb our faces, roam our backs
and cause us all so much dismay,
so let your resident spiders stay.
Better in their hidden place
than buzzing flies right in your face.

Trolling for flies in the kitchen.

For SOCS prompt: Back of the Fridge

Requiem for the Ode: SOCS, Aug 21, 2021

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Requiem for the Ode

Sorry, but these days an ode
is a form that’s out of mode.
And as tacky as it seems,
modern folks have chosen memes
to convey their inner selves,
and even though a poem delves
with soul in what we want to say,
alas, emojis rule the day.

emojis and

For Stream of Conciousness Saturday: Ode

Anything but Awesome

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Although this view might warrant the term, my  least favorite word is “awesome.” HERE is a link to an explanation of why this is so.

 

For Stream of Consciousness Saturday: What is your least favorite word?

Valuables: Saturday Stream of Consciousness Prompt

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You need to click on these to see them well.. especially the first long skinny one. 

 

Somewhere I saw a daily prompt whose prompt today was photos of things that began with  “VAL.” I put my thinking cap on and came up with “Valuables,” so I took photos of my jewelry which, although not diamonds and gold, is valuable to me. Then, in typical “me” fashion, I could not find the prompt to link it to, so if this sounds familiar to you, please clue me in with a link?  Prayers answered.. muchas gracias, Sadje, for telling me the site of the prompt.!

 

This post is part of SoCS. Find the prompt HERE. link!!!!