World peace, or at least a reasonable
Facsimile thereof.
An end to poverty and love enough to
Go around.
Hands extended in kindness, hearts warmed
In gladness.
Food and drink to nourish every single
Child on earth.
A home for every stray, a warm place to
Shelter from the cold.
Comfort and joy.
Comfort and joy.
Peace, people.
If I tell you I saw Rembrandt this morning, his face staring up at me from my bathroom rug, of all places, would you think me insane or would you direct me to the proper authorities?
Had it been the Virgin Mary I’d seen, I’d know exactly who to contact. Alas, it’s a long-dead Dutch painter.
On second thought, it might not be Rembrandt at all, but instead the steely-eyed conquistador whose likeness graced the walls of my childhood home during one of Mom’s theme periods of decorating.
Although, the image bears a striking resemblance to a hat-wearing woman from a famous painting, the title of which escapes my mind, except the visage on my bath mat clearly has a mustache, and the lady in the painting does not.
But, wait. It’s none of the above.
The closer I get the more I realize it’s likely Sigmund Freud come to call. Oh, the irony.
Peace, people.
How strong is too strong
When one crafts a hot toddy?
I remain on my feet,
Yet my writing’s rather shoddy.
I’m light in the head
And wobbly in my body
I feel perfectly sane,
But I’m acting rather dotty.
Oh, dear, I think it’s fairly clear
I’ve too much whiskey in my toddy.
This poem came up in my Facebook memories today. I’d completely forgotten about it, but I think it has merit. As I recall I’d written a part of the poem, but felt like it was half-baked. Days went by and I had an epiphany that allowed me to continue the thoughts that first compelled me to write this. Now I’m not certain if this is two poems or one poem in two parts. I just know I like it. Maybe you will, too.
https://nananoyz5forme.com/2015/11/12/broken-people
I wrote this piece a while back. Since then, I’ve lost my marble(s) and forgot all about this exercise. Is it possible for this 65-year-old woman to regain her marbles? It’s worth a try for the sake of my toes.
https://nananoyz5forme.com/2016/10/13/thoughts-while-picking-up-a-marble-with-my-toes/
Peace, people!
The pessimistic optimist believes
That the glass is half full
Of some noxious liquid.
That the grass is always greener
But the fertilizer
Is toxic
That the shiny silver lining
Is mostly worthless strands of tinsel
This, friend, is a day in the life of someone
Who counts her chickens
Before the eggs have even
Been laid.
Who can say they’ve never been
Desperate, wanton, in need of
Something they cannot explain?
I admire that person, the one who
Turns a blind eye, a deaf ear to
Temptation, to greed and lust and
All the baser human instincts.
Keep up the exemplary work.
The worst times are those
When I’m caught off guard
As I’m drifting into sleep
Or the first moments upon waking
When my primitive brain latches onto
An ugly hunger that needs slaking,
Baking ideas like malformed cookies
Question mark-shaped dough
And I force myself to move
In action there is solace;
If I’m busy, I don’t think
That the Chicago airport would confound him.
That we wouldn’t make it into the virtual queue for a Star Wars ride at Disney’s Hollywood Studios.
I worried he’d think our family suite at the Art of Animation would be too childish, or that hanging out with his Nana wouldn’t be cool.
I worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up with my 18-year-old grandson for all the fun.
I worried about lots of stuff, but I forgot to worry about cancer.
Weird how I always seem to worry about the wrong things.
My mother reclined on the sand, long legs extended
Shying away from the camera
Water droplets drying on her black one-piece bathing suit
Her cigarette held just so
While we kids splashed about in ice cold water
She was beautiful, but never knew it
No one ever told her; I believe they thought she understood
But she never did.
Peace, people
Praying for Eyebrowz 