Bacon Wrapped Pizza and Other Delicacies 

Bacon on a sandwich,
Or alone on a plate.
Bacon with tomato
Wouldn’t that be great?
Bacon wrapped around
A nicely grilled filet or
Tucked inside a fluffy quiche
I could go for it that way.
Bacon served with eggs,
Poached or maybe fried.
Bacon-wrapped asparagus,
You’ll be so glad you tried.
Bacon for breakfast,
Dinner or lunch
Bacon’s even perfect at a
Fancy ladies’ brunch
But today I saw an ad
That nearly blew my mind:
Pizza wrapped in bacon
A truly monumental find!
Alas, I’m on a diet and
Can have no bacon at all
Except for one named Kevin,
And he’s not answering my call.  







Peace, People!

Weather Vain

I’m standing in

My closet

Trying to

Decide what to

Wear.

I have not

Checked the

Weather.

I go to do so

On my

iPhone,

But I notice

There are unread

Notifications on

WordPress, and

Facebook, and

Pinterest.

After reading one

Particular post I

Realize I must

Google the population of

Guatemala before I

Forget so I can

Update a future

Article, and then

I go back to the

Bedroom closet to

Dress for the

Day.

That’s when I

Realize I still

Must check the

Weather

On my

iPhone.

Repeat as necessary

Until dressed.

 

 

Three Doors, One Choice

Today’s prompt from The Daily Post: You’re having a nightmare, and must choose between three doors. Pick one and tell what you find on the other side.

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In darkness I navigate the narrow maze.
Behind me I hear the labored breathing
Of an unknown predator. I cannot stop.

Two left turns, hands pressed flat against
Rough walls of stone. Abruptly stumbling
I find myself facing three towering doors.

Slim candles in sconces flicker, offering
Little clue as to which door provides for
My salvation from the rampaging beast.

Door one is painted red. The deep, hue
Of blood. Orange flames shoot across a
Wooden lintel, daring me to cross below.

Angels grace the second door accented
Against an aerial array of cumulonimbus
Clouds in a sky of heavenly aquamarine.

As the beast draws near I observe the third
Door. Ancient and carved with Celtic runes
Beckoning me to throw caution to the gods.

The choice seems simple: Forsake doors one
And three. Door two seemed a haven, but then
Out of darkness roared an unearthly demon.

With some hesitation I step inside the door
Most mysteriously carved. Fevered drumming
Was my reward. The third door held strong.

Otherworldly chanting to the steady beat of a
Bodhran reverberates within my chest, pulls me
Onward relentlessly toward the echoing sound.

An ethereal luminescence illuminates my steps
Into a forest populated entirely by wee folks
Who gently guide me into a circle enchanted.

A faerie dressed in finest silks alights beside me
And gracefully bids me sit within the mystical
Ring. A guest of honor for their celebratory meal.

“What brings you here?” Faerie asks. I feel certain
She reigns as deva within this forest primeval.
“A beast chased me into your realm,” I explain.

“Three doors you had from which to choose: One
Hell, another Heaven, yet you selected the third.
It isn’t often that mortals wager their lives on us.”

“I had little time to decide my fate with a monster
Close behind. Hell I rejected. Heaven seemed too
Safe. I could not resist the call of the unknown.”

Then we danced and drank far into the night. The
Faerie folk sang songs that resonated in the very
Depths of my soul. My heart expanded with love.

I awakened with tears on my cheeks and a smile
Teasing the corners of my lips. A lovely dream
Born from a nightmare. Beauty from the beast.

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Goodnight, Sleep Tight

Don’t let the bedbugs bite

(Parts inferred:

Your toes

Your fingers

Your elbows

Your nose.)

Along with

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the Lord my soul to keep

If I should die before I wake…

It’s a miracle I ever managed to

Sleep at all.



I understand there’s a new version of that bedtime prayer, but it’s too late for my peace of mind.

Peace, People

“In Loving Memory”

“In Loving Memory” was the Daily Post’s prompt tasking bloggers with writing our own obituaries.

Born,
Learned,
Cared.
Erred, and erred, and erred.
Sang,
Danced,
Cried.
Felt,
Loved,
Died.

A lesson
Each life
Teaches:
We only
Have this
Time. No
More. No
Less. Live.

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Surviving the Winter in Tallahassee 

Nineteen days ’til spring.
Someone please tell the flowers
They have bloomed too soon

Four hundred plus hours
Winter’s hand stays in command
Do calendars lie?

We suffered our share
Of thirty degree days, at
Least three by my count.

Today though, sun reigns
Warding off the brisk chill of
Florida’s winter.

And those who survived
Are made stronger still by that
Which has not killed us.

A little sarcasm on this Tuesday. Forgive me for basking in this beautiful day.

Peace, people!

Circle of Five–in response to the Daily Post’s Writing Prompt

I. favorite number
five; superstition dictates.
i am a child born
on the fifth day of
the tenth month, a multiple
of five. mystical.

Photo from HowardDavidJohnson.com

II. give me five, one hand 

thrust open in greeting, slapped 

up high, down low, slide 

across palms touching, friendship 

displayed playfully.

 Photo by David from Society 6.

III. ring ’round the rosie 

pocket quite full of posey, 

all but five fall down.

a circle drawn in

childish games mocking death’s role

In childhood forgot.

Jeu d’enfants a Riquewihr-1920’s -Alsace-Robert Doisneau

Reading Doldrums

 Circling in the waves,

Caught up in an

Eddy,

Reeling from
the done,

The finished,

The read. 

Now what? 

Am I supposed
to forget 

Those I grew to love,

to fear, 

to hate? 

Where do they go 

When I turn the

Final page,

When we part ways?

I finished book two in a three-part series yesterday. Rushing to shop in my Kindle bookstore I was dismayed to discover that book three won’t be available until March. Of 2016. I’d cry if I thought it would do me any good.

The point is, I broke my Cardinal rule of reading: Thou shalt not begin a book series until at least three books are available to purchase.

Three is a great number because many series end there. If I waited until every book in a series had been written and made available to the reading public I might not ever have gotten to read the Game of Thrones series.  As it is I’ll probably die before knowing what happens to John Snow, et. al.

Thank heaven for Facebook, though. After posting a plea for good book suggestions my feed was pleasantly inundated with not just good, but great recommendations, including that of a novel, The Adventure of the Yrsa written by a friend under the pseudonym, Lillian Sullivan.  

My cup runneth over!

Peace, People.



Plead the Fifth–in response to The Daily Post’s Writing Prompt

Flashbulb lightning
Residual flash
Temporary
Celebrity.

Shouted interrogatory
Penetrates dark,
Manufactured
Histrionics.

Hurried exchange
Hissed advice,
Prevaricate!
Obfuscate!

Stricken beauty
Softly demurs
Fabricate?
Never!

Amendment pled
Stricken eyes
Motivation?
Vanity.

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I’ve never shied away from telling my true age. Never pled the fifth. For many years I loved hearing people exclaim, “You don’t look ___!” Now, I believe all my years, like chickens, have come home to roost. And they’re having a wonderful time creating havoc with my looks.

Peace, people!

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February 29

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I tried in vain to find

February 29. 

Alas, it does not  

Exist in 2015. 

Less compassionate 

Folks might not care 

That February gets 

Short shrift. 

 But I do.

Peace, People