Tag Archives: the daily spur

Strappy Stilettos

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Strappy Stilettos

I languish in these pointy shoes with their flimsy straps.
My ankles teeter with their height, I poke out through their gaps.
I don’t appreciate the fact that they’re the current style.
You try walking in such shoes mile after mile!

The material that forms them is so sparing and so meager
that I’ll be darned if I can figure out why gals are eager
to teeter down the street in them or wear them out to dance.
Trying to walk on shoes like this is taking quite a chance!

The truth lies in the fact that shoes like this must be the fashion
of men for whom the look of things is their only passion.
Safety and walkability cannot be their goal,
for feet were not created to balance on a pole

held in by straps that mean the heels can slide from side to side,
prompting a proclivity to stumble and to slide.
Mr. Choo and Ferragamo, if they ever tried to wear them
might have found their shoes inclined to torture and to scare them.

There should be a special Hell made for designers who maintain
that for the sake of passion one must succumb to the pain
of shoes that are a torture. They should have to walk a mile in them
and while they are in agony, be forced to feign a smile in them!!!!

 

Prompt words today are: pointy shoes, languish, lie, meager, appreciate and flimsy. Image by Femme Spirit @Unsplash.

False Prospects

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False Prospects

The young are often credulous—open to chains of lies—
reaching out for the brass ring, desirous of the prize.

Hopeful, naive and buoyant, they flit from thing to thing,
desirous of the riches they hope that fate will bring.

With age their hopes are truncated as reason rears its head
and they discover the reality of what life gives instead.

Toil, sweat and labor and responsibility
supersede those youthful dreams of nobility.

Fuming with fate’s injustice, we are pulled into line,
as sour grapes replace youth’s hopeful dreams of honey wine.

This is a dreary little poem and not really reflective of my experience in life, but blame the prompt words and the fact that I have to be at art camp in an hour!!!!!

 

Prompt words for the day are buoyant, truncate, lie, credulous, chain and fuming.

The Vacant Lot

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The Vacant Lot

The vapors of a morning mist rise from the vacant lot.
It is a tract forgotten— our neighborhood’s biggest blot.
Each person’s in denial as to their distribution
of building rubble and garbage that’s their daily contribution

to this precarious tumble of rubble, junk and weeds
that every year grows higher and in whose jumble breeds
mosquitoes, rats and killer bees that invade my yard
making neighborly coexistence exceptionally hard.

Good fences make good neighbors I’ve found to be a myth.
To see the truth of this old adage, we must strip it to its pith.
For the stone wall that borders it, alas, has been infested
by a million angry worker bees whose well-being’s invested

in invading all their neighbors, driving dogs and human folks
back into their houses to avoid their neighbors’ pokes.
A precarious situation, at best, dear reader, for,
there is a dilemma present at its core.

If we want to eat their honey must we put up with their stings?
Must we coincide with every danger nature brings?
For the ending of the story, if you care, you now must wait.
For I will recite it at a later date.

Today’s prompt words are vapor, precarious, myth, tract, denial and vacant lot.

Morning Cuppas

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Cup of Java?
Cuppa Tea?

Cups of Java or Cups of Tea? Me, I just need my:

Morning Couplets

Every single day for years, my morning’s not replete
until my poem is published—polished and complete.

I meander through my sentences until I think they’re done,
and then I herd them into shape—each metaphor and pun.

My need is pathological to get them all just right.
I love words’ sensuality, their pathos and their bite.

Though some have a reluctance to show up when I call them,
there’s a satisfaction when I finally recall them.

What would I do with mornings if I had no words to play with?
There’d be nothing else for me to find to fill my day with!

Prompts for today are meander, sentence, pathological, replete, reluctance.

First Crush

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Prompts today are understand, whim, approval, hinder, systematic and absolutley.

Lately I am finding that every other poem or so shows up in the reader in paragraph form rather than in centered stanzas. Has anyone else found this to be true? To try to remedy it, today I took a screen shot of the poem and published it as a media file rather than the regular way. I’d be interested in hearing your comments about how this affects your viewing and also hearing from those having the same problem.  Thanks, Judy

Belvedere

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Belvedere

Strolling through the belvedere at sunset, just with you,
I pretended that I’d brought you here for the uncanny view.

Yet I really formed a rapt audience of one.
You are the only view I seek when the day is done.

I’m just your part time lover, and yet I must confess
that when I see your line of jaw, your hair braid or your dress,

it catapults my heart into regions that are new.
I’d like to make a wallpaper of visions just of you

so that all the whole day long, whatever I might do,
I could live forever surrounded by your view.

 

Prompt words today are part time, Belvedere, catapult, wallpaper, audience and uncanny.

A belvedere or belvidere is an architectural structure sited to take advantage of a fine or scenic view. The term has been used both for rooms in the upper part of a building or structures on the roof, or a separate pavilion in a garden or park.  And, it is also a brand of Vodka!!!

War Lords

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War Lords

Need I be explicit in describing wars of yore?
Any valiant action may be the stuff of lore.

Warriors turned to veterans relate their tales of glory,
the motives of those men who start them are more base and gory.

The noble causes they purport to be their reasons for them,
carved in stone and writ in books that seem to all adore them,

are often myth, for wars are fought for power and for gold
that seldom is passed down to warriors who are brave and bold.

Possessions, land and castles are the bijoux of the rich
who start the wars that poor men fight for in the ditch.

No electricity today so this poem written by flashlight and recorded via hotspot on my phone and posted.

Prompt words today are carved, explicit, bijoux (jewelry or trinket), purport, veteran and warrior. Image by jdb. See more about this image HERE.

Romantic Fling

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Romantic Fling

It takes tremendous willpower to duck a louche rogue’s charm,
for something deep within us believes he means no harm.
His appeal is so humongous and his influence so great
that although we know at heart that he’d make a lousy mate,
still we can’t resist him. He piques romantic hopes
that make swashbuckling heroes out of misanthropes.

We bundle up our doubts and cast them overhead,
our fond expectations cancelling out our dread.
We jump into a love story we hope is never-ending,
knowing deep within ourselves its probable sad ending.
But nonetheless, we fall in love, in spite of our friends’ censure,
plunging into a fabulous romance-filled adventure!

Prompt words for today are louche, willpower, pique, humongous,
our  and influences.Image by jdb

louche: disreputable or sordid in a rakish or appealing way.
“the louche world of the theater”

A “Golden Years” Rebuttal

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A “Golden Years” Rebuttal

Those who call these “Golden Years “deserve my blunt oration,
for getting older, you should know, ain’t no free vacation!
The abundant pains of aging for sure are not a bonus,
for to suffer silently seems to be our onus.

Our skin’s variegations you may think are bad tattoos,
but what you see as sub-par art, alas, is just a bruise
from taking our blood thinners. Every blot and every dot
is a new reminder of a bumping that we got.

When you bring us nuts and caramel, we thank you for your ventures,
but we do not mention we can’t eat them with our dentures!
“Old age ain’t for sissies,” is an adage often told,
so I am not the first to bemoan this getting old.

 

(Just kidding, Dolly.) Prompt words today are caramel, abundant, oration, variegation, and golden. Retablo and photo by jdb.

Spelunking

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Spelunking

Swimming in my sorrows, I’m obliged, I fear, to share them.
My friends all shrink away and hide, hoping I will spare them.
But worries are a mother lode, and each of us a piner,
tunneling into all our woes like a trauma miner.
Then relating all of them in streams without a comma,
turning everyone we meet into a surrogate momma.

 

Prompt words for today are swim, oblige, sorrow, miner and comma.