Tag: poetry

Curiosity and the Door

Behind this door lies

Madness, maybe, or magic.

Only time may tell.

 

Green doorway beckons,

Oft polished tiles pave the way

Stay wary, be wise.

From ether appeared

Long-limbed, staff-carrying Mage.

My breath caught; exhaled.

“Magician, tell me

Secrets from beyond grave’s door.”

“Those must wait,” he said,

“For your own demise,

Your journey beyond life’s pale

Do not hurry there!”

 
Patience, I have none.

Again I begged the wizard,

“A hint, please of what’s to come!”

Wickedly, he smiled,

“Child, ask me no more!

Twice have I refused your bid

Thrice will serve you not!”

But eager was I 

To know secrets dark and deep

Again I bade him,

“Answer me! ‘Tis truth I seek!”

Rakishly grinned he,

“You should have escaped, my dear,

Now face your nightmare!”

Force flew from his hand,

A blinding light soon followed 

To my knees I fell

Trembling with fear

Awestruck by his power play.

“Enough,” I cried. “Please!”

“Your pleas fail to halt

The mighty powers I have

Set into motion.”

Now in this casket

I am sealed without a hope

Of ever leaving,

Of ever loving,

But at least I still have a

Wicked way with words.

Curiosity

Killed the cat I’ve heard it said.

And it entombed me.

I snapped these photos in Antigua, Guatemala, at la Casa de Santa Domingo, a hotel built around the ruins of an ancient monastery. Sometimes my imagination has its way with me. 

Peace, people!

Waffle House Musings

Sunday morning bustle
Booth or counter
Plastic menu
Decisions
Decisions
Pecan waffles
Bacon on the side
Hot coffee with sugar

Beyoncé’s voice beckons
All the single ladies
Waitresses chime in
Shoulda put a
Shoulda put a
Ring on it, my man
Elderly diner shakes
His scrawny moneymaker.

Delighted customers clap,
Cheer, and whistle
Their support
Bravo
Bravo
Bowing deeply
The old man sits as
My waffles and bacon arrive.

  
Peace, People!

Hot! Hot! Hot!

The Daily Prompt asked, “Do you like hot and spicy foods, or do you avoid them for fear of what tomorrow might bring?”

el mercado en la Antigua de Guatemala

I like my food hot.
Spicy.
Gratuitous heat;
The kind of heat that
Makes me wipe the
Sweat from my
Brow as I eat.
Any residual suffering
For the sake of spiciness
Should be borne with
Stoicism and great
Quantities of
Pepto-Bismol.

  

E.T.: The Earnest Terrestrial 

Among us walk men

Of a most serious bent

Earthlings quite earnest.

  Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird.

There also are those

With more frivolous outlooks

Inclined to amuse.

 Jim Varney in his role as Ernest T. Bass in Ernest Saves Christmas.

Such as this Ernest.

Who contrary to his name

Was anything but.

Swing Batta

Bottom of the 

Ninth.

Pitcher’s team has a

One run lead.

He spits.

Sunflower seeds,

Shells fly,

On the mound

Surveys the bases

All around

Steps down and

Spits again.

Runners on 

First and second.

No outs.

Top of the order.

No outs!!

Pitcher takes the

Mound.

Fire in his eyes.

Catcher signals 1,

Moves his glove

Low and inside.

Pitcher nods.

First pitch–

Batter tees off

Catches ball’s

Bottom, pops it

Straight up.

“Infield fly!”

Yells ump,

“Batter’s out!”

Ball dribbles to

Mound.

Pitcher catches

Runner off second,

Tags him

Trying to get to

Third.

Runner from first

Caught in rundown

Between one, three, and

Six.

Triple play

Saves the day.

Good game, good game!

Let’s go to Dairy Queen!

Studly and I coached Little League softball and baseball teams for many years. One of the most difficult aspects of the sport for kids to understand is the infield fly rule. 

It took me awhile to understand it, too, but I think I’ve got it now:

If there are fewer than two outs with runners on first and second, or first, second, and third, and a fly ball is hit that can be fielded by a player in the infield, the batter is automatically out and runners advance at their own risk. Basically it’s protection for the runners, but try explaining that to an 8-year-old batter whose ball goes uncaught and is called “out!” Tears often ensue.

In the words of Tom Hanks, 

  
Peace, People!

Home for the Holiday

Everyone come home;

Home to our sweet Mother Earth.

She craves attention.

   
 

She nurtures us all

Gives without thought for her self

As all mothers do.

Happy Earth Day. Do something nice for our mother today.

Link in the Chain

My link looks very much like the

Links on either side. Weld line

Slightly off-center, but solid;

Strong. Meant to hold fast when

All else fails. The weakest link is

Still much stronger than no link.

Human-forged or machine-made, 

Iron, steel, gold, silver, brass, 

Shared responsibility.  

Crazy Cat

Zip into the kitchen

Stare at your bowl

Meow for a treat

Stretch!

Tear into the living room

Skid on the tile

Take an urgent bath

Spot your tail

Make a run for it

Around and around

Stop and scratch

Behind your ear

Take another bath

Find the highest point

Make the leap

Pace lion-like above the fray

Before jumping from

Counter to floor

Attack your sister

Act alarmed at her hisses

Raise a paw to ward her off

Take another bath

Collapse on the rug

Sleep. 

   
     

Our cat Patches is an odd mixture of paranoia and sweetness. She’s sure that every thing and everyone is out to get her, but she is convinced that I am her Mama. It’s a pretty cool gig.

Peace, people.

Third World?

I. Third World you might say,

Or developing country

Depends on viewpoint.

 

II. Looking at my world

With fresh eyes and open heart

What might our guests see?

Saint Augustine, FL

III. Our ruins are fresh

Compared with Antigua’s own;

Centuries apart.

Guatemala

IV. Yet ruins abound

And for many life is hard.

Poverty lays claim.

Guatemala
United States

V. Third World existence

Among First World convenience

Which is most honest?

Spring is in the Air

It must be spring because…

I feel the need to clean something–anything, but preferably something that isn’t too dirty.

My allergies are more active than my bladder. (I’m a post-menopausal woman, so that’s saying a lot.)

Creative urges are tugging at my heartstrings. I picked up a knitting instruction manual, yarn, and two art prints at the farmer’s market this morning. 

I’m actually going to organize at least one closet this week. Maybe.

Love is in the air. Love of napping, that is.

Golf.

Songbirds are busy competing for mates.

Studly made three trips to Lowe’s in one afternoon.

Rainy days abound.

Winter clothes get put away. Of course, in Florida that means I’ve traded my capris and tees for shorts and tanks.

Teachers begin seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Much drinking is done.

bring me spring on a platter

Flowers don’t bloom for us

Bird songs aren’t meant for our ears,

But isn’t it lovely that we benefit

From the beauty of nature’s ways?

How do we return the favor?

Nourishment, care, and yes,

Appreciation for the gifts we’re given.