Thanksgiving – you can’t please everyone.
Or maybe you can.
Happy Thanksgiving.
This is a reposting of older watercolors–so sorry if you’ve seen already. Pearl is still in this world–over 18–I am very thankful for that and so much else (especially your visits and your own work.) Take care.
The Matrix On Cheetos
As Long As
As long as there’s bottomless Ping we can drink
and a computerized thingy implanted to sync
with what’s left of our brain and also the right
and Cheetos hardwired all day and all night
so that crunch we can go and snap we can pop
with never and never and never a stop,
then we will feel nearly, gee, almost at home
no matter how close or how far we do roam,
no matter if Saturn’s just outside our glass
or Uranus is left far behind on its ass–
Oh we will be happy as happy can be
in our saucer uncupped by all gravity
in a pod that’s so cute, so very cozy
where there floats just me and just me and just me.
********************************
Here’s a sort of draft ditty for Bjorn Rudberg’s wonderful prompt on dVerse Poets Pub to write a sci fi poem. I don’t know if this qualifies–I do confess to liking the drawing. (An older one by yours truly. As always all rights reserved.)
Sketching An Elephant From Your Head
The trick is not the trunk, the climbing
spine, knee lines or overlapping
ear flaps; it all comes down
to the eyebrows.
Even if their slant alone
does not say elephant,
they must be lines that wonder, like you,
why they’ve been drawn here,
above those dotted eyes,
below that blank sky,
and then remember.
*************************
Here’s my nearly belated Friday Flash 55 for the G-Man. Tell him about it.
I’m afraid I’ve done no noveling this week, just job work. Agh! (Yes, I’m so lucky to have a great job, though I’m a bit disappointed.) Not expecting a break till Thanksgiving possibly, but hopefully then to have a bit of a stretch. Thanks so much for checking in.
I am using an old and early animation for this, done on an iPad app called Animation Creation. Music, such as it is, by yours truly.
Mask
When young, they were fitted for the mask,
an age when every question asked
could be answered with because—
Pretty is as pretty does,
for children will take on a task
adults won’t swallow without a flask
full of flow as hot as ash
and guaranteed to grant a buzz
of when young.
But though they aged, the mask stuck fast;
it trapped their warmth just like the cask
they tapped now, sipped and sometimes guz-
zled, to scrape off “is,” grate down to “was,”
bare what they’d been by file or rasp
when young.
**************************
Still playing with Rondeaus — not very well–here’s a draftish one for Grapeling’s prompt on With Real Toads to write a poem about a mask.
This is also a signing-off for me for now, maybe. I am trying very hard to get myself to go on an extended blog break, at least for the month of November. As some readers know, this has been a super busy work period for me. Blogging poetry and being part of the online poetry community has been a wonderful way to get out of my workaday mode–but it also keeps me from getting to certain larger fiction projects that I’ve put on hold practically forever (and keep talking of going back to.) I really do want to make one more effort, and November, national noveling month, seems a good time to try.
That said, do check in from time to time, as I am likely to (i) break my resolution, (ii) post pictures; and (iii) miss you terribly!
Take care, k.
Camaraderie
Got a camera for my birthday;
I take pictures all day long,
sometimes they’re of my brother
sitting on the john.
Some people call him John.
(But his name is Michael.)
I take pictures of my mother,
take pictures of my dad,
take LOTS of pictures of my dog
whose eyes come out so sad.
Sometimes I try to catch a crime–
I mean, what could be neater?
So far the only pic I’ve got
is “man kicking parking meter.”
Not sure that’s even illegal–
the man says it didn’t work.
Don’t know if I believe him
’cause he called me a little jerk.
My folks now say that nature
is better for me to shoot–
stuff like deer in our backyard
and, in a nearby swamp, the newt.
At first I groaned, how boring,
but, actually, that’s not true
cause there’s something cool my camera does
whenever I look through.
It makes the world turn special–
sure, it’s special anyhow.
But my camera makes it special-er
adds in some extra wow.
So now my camera’s with me
’bout everywhere I go–
my imaginary friend, I guess,
but don’t tell that I said so.
Especially don’t tell Michael
(that kid “some folks” call John)
’cause he’d probably try to snitch it
if he knew it was so fun.
‘Course, then, I’d get his picture–
red-handed as can be,
still, better keep it secret (sigh)
between just you and me.
********************************
Here’s a new little poem written and illustrated for Victoria Slotto’s prompt on dVerse Poets Pub to write a poem for children. I did poem and illustrations today, so they are very rough–especially towards the beginning where I wasn’t sure how to best get the joke of the big brother across and just repeated the same drawing with dialogue. Also very uncertain of the title–any suggestions, let me know. All fun. Check out Victoria’s prompt and the other children’s poems on dVerse.
Finally, if you like the elephants, check out a children’s book I wrote and illustrated called 1 Mississippi, available on Amazon.
Duccio’s Pillow
Duccio paints a pillow
for the Madonna to sit uponna, shaped
like a hot dog,
its countours long and thin
as the old-man babe who’s perched within
his mother’s dark robe,
itself a distended globe.
All is flattened
in the foreshadowing, incipient chiaroscuro
of what’s to come, except
for that brown orange pillow
that billows just a bit where
the Virgin doesn’t sit.
We all need salt softness
somewhere.
***********************************
A draftish poem for my own prompt of Poetics Italian-STyle for dVerse Poets Pub. Duccio was an early Renaissance Italian painter, painting in the late thirteenth, early fourteenth century in Sienna. From my high school foray into art history, I always thought of him as the painter who made hot dog pillows that the Madonna sits or lays down upon in the various scenes of her depicted life. I’m not sure that this is a certified art historical fact as I did not actually find any mention of it in rooting around for this poem, though certainly the pillow above would qualify.
Below is another Duccio, and below that, my own version of an early Renaissance painting. (Guess which is which.) (Note, “chiaroscuro” is a technique of painting using light and shadow to sculpt images–the technique was truly developed a little later than Duccio.)
Note, that I have edited since first posting.
Love Poem
Forget about supportive.
You make collapse possible,
disintegration a reasonable
alternative, falling to pieces
a waystation, respite.
I don’t know about safety
in numbers; I’m sure of only one
port in a storm.
The well of your chest smells
of fleur de sel, and carries a kiln
that fires all clay new.
*******************************
Here’s a nearly belated 55 for the lovely G-man. I am also posting for the dVerse Poets Pub Poetics prompt re peace, hosted by Mary Kling.
Note – the picture above is not of my dear husband. For one thing, when he wears a tie, he tends also to wear a jacket.
Zeus Giving Birth to Athena, as Elephant (Ouch!)
Ballad of Zeus, Hera and Our Bodies Ourselves
So when Hera, she was ragging,
I turned to her and said–
Can’t take this women’s lib talk
from a deity I’ve wed.
All day over ambrosia,
all night over retsina,
you whine about the female
and the way that males demean ‘er!
Choice? I said. You’re a goddess!
And by they way you got those pills?
you know the ones the humans use–
I think they’re called Advils.
‘Cause my head hurts something beastly–
oh sure, all men are swine.
But this hubby needs his Ledas
and a swan is not porcine.
But–ugh–my head is splitting
and swelling up so big,
cramping and contorting
hard as Jagger at a gig–
Help, Hera! Help me, Sweetie–
What? Don’t forget to breathe?
Is that all you’re gonna tell me
when my brain’s bursting its sheathe!
What’s this? Wah wah! A baby?
Oh God–(that’s me)–but Hell–
Okay, her toes are very cute,
but my head don’t feel so well.
I can hear Poseidon’s chortle–
Hades’ quake like a jelly roll
served up on a vibration plate
in his most shallow hole–
What’s brought me this wee darling?
That Titaness I ate?
I never thought just swallowing
could put me in this state!
I mean, I’m still that big strong guy
with thunder under thumb–
but could ya’ help me with the diapers,
you little honey bun?
**********************
This is supposed to be in a ballad form for the wonderful prompt by Tony Maude over at dVerse Poets Pub, and also a soliloquy of Zeus for the wonderful prompt by Kerry O’Connor at With Real Toads. Kerry asks us to impersonate a deity in modern times.
The scene takes place as Zeus is about to deliver Athena from his forehead. Zeus, although paired to Hera, was quite the Lothario. His lovers included Metis, one of the original Titan gods who was expected by soothsayers to have two children by Zeus, first, a girl and then a boy who was destined, if he lived, to overturn Zeus. In order to beat the prophecy, Zeus swallowed Metis, but after he had impregnated her with Athena. Athena was subsequently born through Zeus’s forehead.
In order to stick with my strengths, I’ve portrayed Athena as an elephant.
My Not-Jazz Poem
My hands don’t find
Bobby Blue bland;
I’ve driven hours
over Miles.
My legs sure glide when
the trombone slides
and my eyes tear
when Louis smiles.
But I don’t poem jazz;
I just can’t poem jazz–
oh, I jitter
and I’m plenty bugged,
but can only riff old honkywonk
and snip a bordered rug.
I can listen till I’m Dizzy,
Muddy Waters on the brain,
But I don’t poem jazz–
I just can’t poem jazz
it’s just the way I am.
********************************
The above is my non-jazz poem responding to the wonderful prompt by Gay Cannon on dVerse Poets Pub to write a jazz poem. My apologies in advance to anyone who finds the poem offensive or politically incorrect–it’s intended only to make fun of myself. Have a great weekend.
Happy 4th of July! This is a reposting–but then it is also a repeated holiday! Have a great evening. Stay safe.
ManicDDaily 
Recent Comments