Tag Archives: your daily word

Prisoner of Beauty

Prisoner of Beauty

To win a beauty pageant is a kinky dream.
You want to be the biggest fish in a manmade stream.
You’ll be closely examined both for charm and beauty,
then questioned for your aptitude in fulfilling your duty
at shopping malls and other places where you’ll be on view
displaying what fine work your folks did creating you.

That you’re a lovely model is not up to debate.
What an excellent product  they managed to create!
Compared to all the others, you simply glow and shine.
You have that extra element we find hard to define.
Is it a special need to please or is it blind ambition?
Or did you simply need the cash for your college tuition?

We rather hope it is the last prompting your pageantry,
so after one year on the runway, you’ll be able to break free
to live a normal life down here, milling with the crowd,
for when you’re up there, special, hobnobbing’s not allowed.
Jostled by the hoi polloi, your royal crown might tilt,
or there is a danger it might be revealed as gilt.

Not a thing of value. Just a pretty piece of junk.
A perfect metaphor all of this “glamor” to debunk.
Beauty is as beauty does the adage tries to tell us,
yet who we are is not the thing that pageants use to sell us.
You are a perfect object standing up there on a shelf,
made to please our eyes and ears. Not to please yourself.

Indeed, you’re slim and lovely. Your smile has its charm.
You simply look enchanting there on the emcee’s arm.
You will be fluffed and feted and put out on display.
It won’t be free, this privilege that you have won today.
But remember, please, when you’ve done all you’re told to do
that you will come down off that stage and simply live as you.


The prompt words are free, dream, pageant and kinky.


Early Morning Matins


5:30 A.M. Early Morning Matins

Her imperious demands
slice the morning air.
I’ve only had three hours of sleep.
She doesn’t seem to care.
The young cats all wait patiently.
The dogs are still abed,
but the old cat knows her wants,
and she wants to be fed!

Church bells rise up from the town,
the priest’s demanding voice
calls the village folks to church
and they have little choice
but to go to laud the virgin,
for this is her holy week.
Old women crawl upon their knees,
her miracles to seek.

Dark morning air is quiet now,
the people in their pews,
the priest abandoning megaphone
to disperse his news.
The old cat, too, falls silent,
for she knows well her mater.
If I haven’t catered to her wails
by now, I’ll feed her later!!!


This is the shrine to the Virgin of Guadalupe that the women were constructing in the hotel where we went for breakfast in Acapulco.  Every night, we saw processions carrying their virgins to the church to be blessed.  This is the twelve-day celebration to the Virgin that is practiced all over Mexico every December and what the very early church bells were about this morning. December 12th is her day and it is a bank holiday in Mexico. Five days to go.


Temper, Temper



Temper, Temper

Her emotional last eruption caused such a giant rift
that she could not fill it, however large the gift.
A brand new Maserati did not curb his ire.
He still remembered well the smoke, the spewing of the fire.
She bought him a new pitching wedge, an iron and a putter,
but still it didn’t lessen his memory of her sputter.
Her spewing and her venting and that final fiery blast
blew him out the door and consigned her to the past.


The prompt words today are driver, eruption and gift.

Scattered Dreams

Scattered Dreams

She mourns the loss of everything as the crescent moon
fades away to nothing this putrescent June.
Orange blossoms drooping in their wedding urns,
an empty flag of wedding veil wafts outward and then turns
to fall from spinning fan blades where it has been tossed—
all its beauty shredded, its inspiration lost.
Her hopes and dreams now fatuous, their ending is now lore
written in tattered satin and petals on the floor.


The word prompts today are putrescent, floor, inspiring and fatuous.



Friendship is one of those miracles like theater, where one person inspires another to act a finer role than that he might otherwise accomplish.


The prompt words today were friendship, theater, inspiring and miracle.





My attempts at active leisure are challenged by the rain,
so it’s possible that I will go back to bed again.
Raindrops slash and pummel. Rain soaks my shoes and hair.
I wouldn’t mind it half so much if I were wash and wear,
but, alas, I crumple up. I languish in the cold.
I’ve a propensity for colds and coughs. My shoes develop mold.
And so with no more ceremony, I’ll remain inside.
When rain seeks my company, I choose to spare my hide.




The Seduction

He knew to win her favor he must wine her and then feed her.
And finally to the forest he felt compelled to lead her.
He kissed her ‘neath the elm tree and he kissed her ‘neath the cedar.
And, need I tell the rest to you, my very dearest reader?
Did he woo her, did he charm her, did he  flatter her and need her?
Did he lay her down in clover? Did he dandelion weed her?
And when she voiced objections, did he circumvent, indeed, her
girlish hesitations? Did he in fact fail to heed her?
And was it inevitable, that he then should seed her?

Cedar is the prompt for today.