Tag Archives: your daily word

Over Head

Over Head

Lying in the hammock, searching for my words,
I come up with nothing, so I consult the birds.
They lift up off my trees to circle in a ring
as though they’re reconnoitering every single thing.

Swooping to partake of swirling clouds of  gnats,
eying all my fruit trees, teasing both the cats,
who, crouched up on the roof, dream culinary wishes—
far above their heads, those tiny feathered fishes

far out of their reach, but so mesmerizing that 
they far exceed temptation of squirrel or of rat.
Cats find bird movements insolent, drifting high up there.
Such an outrê thing to do, floating in the air!

Prompt words today are consult, insolent, outré and reconnoiter.



Flitting here and flitting there,
sometimes just in my underwear,
unsmitten by the winter weather,
rarely am I aware whether
there is sun or snow or rain
outside the walls of my domain,
the fervor of the climate being
something far beyond my seeing.

The phrase that March is coming in
like a lion? Beyond my ken.
They’re merely lyrics in a song.
I’ve been a shut-in for so long
that weather doesn’t apply to me.
For one year, I’ve been climate-free,
nestled here, cat on my knee
in front of laptop or T.V.

Two thousand twenty and twenty-one
have addicted me to other fun
than outside social interactions.
I have narrowed my reactions
to the confines of four walls.
No homes of friends, cafes or malls.
It’s been a year since forced to choose
any other type of shoes
than flip-flops or my Birkenstocks.
Or since I donned a pair of socks.

Have styles changed, or is the blouse
purchased before banned to my house
still in vogue? How would I know?
Where does anybody go 
that it is possible to share it?
There’s nowhere left for me to wear it!
My social life is now in traction,
suffering from under-action.

No pub-crawls, dining out or dancing.
No hobnobbing and no romancing.
No skiing and no beach vacation.
Simply solo relaxation!
We suffer lives of self-containment.
No other trips or entertainment.

The whole world sharing one elation—
the prospects of a vaccination!

Prompt words today are flit, smitten, phrase and fervor.

A Little Tip

A Little Tip

Although I’m a big tipper, no gratificación
will be awaiting waiters who linger on the phone
and let my soup or burger get cold up on the shelf.
I’ll send my food back to the chef and spend your tip myself!

I’ve declared a moratorium on mandatory tips.

My money will not cross your palm if cold food meets my lips.
If you’re somewhere slumbering and my drink is late,
will it affect the money left beneath my plate?

You can bet your lazy ass it will. So get your butt in gear
before my lips get parched and dry from waiting for a beer.
If my bread basket is meager and the bread is old and dry,
I’ll save your 25 percent for another guy.

I’ll give it as a baksheesh for some kid that I pass
who hasn’t done a thing for me—just like your sorry ass.
Lagging in your service won’t win a lagniappe.
Lollygagging will not put a feather in your cap.

So if you seek a tip from me, attention will be fateful.
I only give gratuities for service when I’m grateful!


Word prompts today are slumber, moratorium, meager and lagniappe. Photo downloaded from Unsplash with permission.

Enthusiastic Diners

Click on photos to enlarge

Enthusiastic Diners

Their responses to the meal I served were most enthusiastic,
though the wine glasses were paper and the knives and forks were plastic.
They devoured the mashed potatoes and ate every scrap of lamb,
licked clean the dish of green beans and massacred the ham.

They’re my most staunch supporters, and so I never fear.
If I run out of wine, they are satisfied with beer.
When the pumpkin pie is finished, then Oreos are fine.
It doesn’t matter if it is Nabisco’s food or mine.

When it comes to family appetites, I don’t have to worry.
They’ll eat anything I serve from hamburgers to curry.
There’s just one rule I have to heed on Thanksgiving day.
I put food on the table and get out of the way!!!


Prompt words today are lamb, staunch, enthusiastic.


Click on photos to enlarge.


Boxes fit in boxes and rings fit inside rings.
In this world no end exists to these nesting things.
Other things just roll around looking for their place.
They fall out of one thing into another space.
There is some serendipity to when they finally fit,
but all of these repeating shapes will find a place to sit.
And though the more astute among us may find places faster,
those who roll around a bit may find a world much vaster.

The daily prompts today are repeating shapes, fallout, serendipity and astute.

Worst Poem Ever

Worst Poem Ever

Since today’s theme is brevity, it’s time that I must beat.
I’ll write my poem and then I will stage a fast retreat.
I must do the task alone and be focused and stalwart,
because you cannot simply go and buy a poem at Walmart!


Prompt words today are brevity, retreat, theme and stalwart. Photo by Manny Becerra on Unsplash, used with permission.

The Sponsor

The Sponsor

He’s the mafia of sobriety with eyes in every bar.
If you try to buy a six-pack, you won’t get very far.
You’ll be waylaid at the corner and he’ll confiscate your glow.
When it comes to who is tippling, he is always in the know.

His methods may be dodgy, but they seem to work.
His strategy’s to follow you—to tattle, spy and lurk.
You won’t see him in the the shadows. He is tricky and uncouth,
but your sponsor’s only doing it for you, and that’s the truth.

Do unto others only what you’ve wanted done to you.
He’s had it done to him and now he’ll do and do and do.
The path that you have taken is one he knows too well.
He knows this particular demon that you have to quell.

The bottle has long been your friend, but now here is another.
One was a two-faced comrade, but this one is a brother.
Two hands held out to you and it is up to you to choose.
Will you choose the brotherhood or will you choose the ruse?

Prompt words today are mafia, glow, sobriety and uncouth.

Climate Shift

Climate Shift

The lady’s mood was known to oscillate season to season.
One month she was crazy and the next given to reason.
Winter, in particular, seemed to fray her nerves,
when no truffles were available to top off her hors d’ oeuvres.

She saw inclement weather as a personal rebuff.
She simply abhorred snowflakes—their frigidity and fluff.
She wrote a letter to the mayor, for she knew it was a fact
there was a ban on nasty weather that he could enact.

The letter that she wrote him finally reached him in December,
but in the rush of Christmas, he neglected to remember
that she had made demands until the New Year celebration
was over, whereupon he said he’d take a small vacation

to try to conduct research in a sunnier location—
perhaps a South American or Carribean nation—
to see just how they managed to defray this colder weather.
Then he’d fly off to another just to further study whether

just what, if anything, there might be to be done
to do away with winter and attract more sun.
His efforts were so thorough that , booking after booking,
when he didn’t find an answer, he had to go on looking.

From Belize to Barbados, Aruba to St. Kitt,
the solution kept evading him, yet he sought after it.
Then, finally, in June, the lady got her wishes.
No snowflakes on her shoulders and truffles for her dishes.

For when the mayor came back from his research in milder lands,
He brought the sun back with him, thus meeting her demands.

Prompt words today are oscillate, particular, month and rebuff.

The Return

The Return 

Girded by a pressure suit, guided by skill and science,
an astronaut must learn the lessons of complete compliance.
It requires trust and backbone to travel through the dark,
trusting hands thousands of miles away to guide that ark

that speeds him through the solar system, up to regions where
his surroundings are devoid of gravity and air.
Accepting the unknown and resisting terror’s bark,
he hurtles into outer space, accepting danger’s lark.

What prompts him to accept the threat of loneliness and death—
to face an end from fire or from lack of breath?
It is exceptional valor, proving bravery and worth
to face his end so far from the comforts of this earth.

Does he face a different heaven in another clime,
his molecules merged after death to a different time?
Is he bound to spend infinity apart from worlds he’s known,
blown into the universe, forever, now, alone?

No earth he knows to go to to blend back in the world.
From his own nature’s cycle, now forever hurled.
Does he merge into a wider world, another evolution,
absorbed within the rules of a new orb’s revolution?

Will he travel back again in centuries far distant,
in an alien craft, his molecules so insistent
to return to their origins that they are drawn back home
to the soil of this Earth or to the ocean’s foam?

Or can he find his way back home again solely on his own,
intent on his not spending eternity alone?
How wide is one’s soul’s orbit? How vast its gravity?
Can it bring a shipless astronaut back from infinity?


Word prompts for today are backbone bark, science and gird.

Brain vs Brawn

Brain vs Brawn

Performing ablutions and feeding the dogs,
writing to prompts and checking out blogs.
My movement these mornings is slightly curtailed
now that my circadian rhythms have failed.
With two hours’ sleep, it’s dubious that
my exercise will exceed petting the cat.
You may claim that you still can do a mean pushup,
but lately some of us just can’t get our tushup.
Good for all of you folks with perpetual youth,
although bragging of it I find slightly uncouth.
Do I blather on about crosswords I’ve done
or winning at Scrabble? It just isn’t done.
I don’t swagger around with my I.Q. in view.
Clearly, I have something better to do.
So cover that body. Put your pecs in a shroud.
That muscle shirt clearly should not be allowed.
Put clothes on those biceps, obscure that tight tush.
We know that you pump and you pull and you push,
but must you show us? We find it importunate
that you should flaunt them to all the unfortunate.
We don’t display that we’re learned and clever.
We don’t quote Chaucer. Well, not hardly ever.
We won’t humiliate your split infinitive
if you won’t show off your muscles definitive.
Those of us flabby and rotund and loose
hereby are suggesting that we call a truce.
We will not correct your split infinitive
if you won’t show off  your muscles definitive.

Prompt words today are movement, dubious, claim and ablution.