Of Ducks and Boys


Image result for boys and ducks swimming in a river images
Google image

The Twiglets #12 even the ducks

Even the ducks took to the river
their downy white feathers too
much like a summer-weight cover
on the sticky hot southern noon.
They paddled away from the buck
naked boys splashing and hollering
like the wild things they were.
Spotty clouds began to gather, to
sprinkle down rain but the boys
and the ducks took no notice…
they just played.





dverse Meet the Bar with Expressionism Posted by


They toss their heads like flirtatious
school girls, whip-lashed limbs stirring
charcoal clouds into funnels of madness
and the birds abandon their nest, and squirrels
run for the hills, houses hunker down as
the wind rages around the eaves and I crawl
into bed, body draped around itself, trembling,
your fury makes the tempest seem innocuous
and wait for the eye of the hurricane.



Days of Wine and Vinegar

mindlovemiserysmenagerie Tale Weaver #107 prompt by Lorraine
“This week, weave a tale with the threads of lost. “


The days have been folded up
and neatly stacked away.  Like
winter clothes, like bath towels,
like socks in a drawer, like old maps.
We take our moments for granted
and wish away our lives.  Some day
we’ll do, go, be…

Someday is here
and I can’t shake the feeling of
lost, misplaced, passé, diminished,
a redundancy of motions
reduced by
Now, just you and me.
Should be enough.


Much of the time it is, a relief,
a pleasure,
like the spring days
before they curled up
withered like autumn.
I know I don’t
have the patience,
the stamina,
the spur
to do it all again… 
So why do I feel so lost?







Staff Meeting

Miz Quickly   Quickly, Simply   Make of ’em what you will



I can’t stop thinking in quotes.
These conferences, meetings,
think tanks are becoming stories,
fiction, fantasy, too familiar.

She walks into the room, pulls
out a chair and I think, “Of all the
gin joints, in all the towns, in all
the world, she walks into mine…”

I shrug. I don’t even know her
but she looks familiar. And, there’s
Bob from finance looking at his
watch, tut, tutting as the meeting

drones on and on “I’m late! I’m late!
For a very important date! No time
to say hello, goodbye!
I’m late! I’m late! I’m late!”

The discussion becomes a debate,
a persuasion, a plea, degenerates
into talking over each, shouting.
“What we’ve got here is failure to

communicate.”  I can’t help it, I chuckle.
“Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here!
This is the War Room!” I’m getting a
little worried about my sanity.

“Open the pod bay doors, please, HAL.”


Alice in Wonderland
Cool Hand Luke
Dr. Strangelove
A Space Odyssey




Image result for kite images
Google Image


String me along like a kite full of breeze
let me bob and dive, dance and jive,
shimmy and shake, let me rake the sky
like a broad-toothed comb entangled
in tresses of dawdling clouds
then I’ll break free from the binding
string and drift away over a sea of trees.

The Twiglets # 11 with a string prompt by  Marilyn Braendeholm



Love Endures

Image result for joanne woodward quote sexinessImage result for paul newman and joanne woodward images

adashofsunny “Love’s a night-song sweet sung by the tender strokes of wind
I want you guys to pen down your deepest feelings regarding love. Feel free to take the subject in whichever direction that you desire.


It’s late and I can’t sleep
so I slip from bed,
put on my robe and
in the darkness sit
next to the stove
in my rocking chair.
I hear the crackling of the wood,
a pop, occasional long low whistle
that rises then fades.
The quiet snuggles around me,
except for the squeaky chair, hum of the fridge,
sound is hushed and respectful of the night.
A muffled cough down the hall
rustling of covers, a short lived snore
then I hear him turn over.
I look at the Christmas tree
adorned but unlit
and the shiny paper, bright bows,
gifts overflow onto the floor – the grandchildren are here.
Oh, the excitement and chaos of the coming morn
brings a smile
but the greatest gift,
this gift of family together once again
fills me with contentment.
I go back to bed,
snuggle into his back.
His hand rests on my hip
and I close my eyes.
Good night, love, I whisper.


Can You Feel the Frustration

Image result for numbers frustration images

MizQuickly But it Seems So Real

I am trying to reach you
I need help, you need to know,
the world is ending, sickness,
drought, pandemic, I know –
I’ll call you on the phone….No
speed dial, no number associated
with that name. I look you up in
the telephone book but I can’t
remember the numbers, I put in
two they disappear, I can never
finish the sequence… frustration,
I feel so stupid, inept, ridiculous!


This is a recurring dream. There are people in the dream, a situation happening, a cell phone (occasionally a dial phone) and a need to call for help but I can NEVER get the numbers put in!


The Lesser Loves

adashofsunny prompt by Sanaa Rizvi
Choose one of the famous bards (William Shakespeare, Robert Burns, William Cowper, William Wordsworth, Alexander Pope). Now pick out a poem, or perhaps a quote (that inspires you best) from their works and prepare to launch into battle!

“The world forgetting, by the world forgot.” Alexander Pope


Some loves are unforgettable
like Cleopatra and Mark Antony
loves to go down in history.

Some loves of great beauty
expected to endure through thin and thick,
alas were more like Liz and Dick.

Then there is the love of you and me,
by the world not unforgettable
or by us regrettable

But a good love, lasting love though
the world forgetting, by the world forgot
our children and theirs will not.




A Little Salt and Vinegar

Image result for images of picklesMiz Quickly  Thursday Prompt  When to stop


I have a tale about ignorance, getting old, and being a pickle
not in a pickle, though that has happened too.
I look back at the girl I was and realize I was dim,
a 25 watt in a 100 watt world, not just naïve, innocent,
unsophisticated, but unformed.

I think there was a good deal of knowledge stored headwise,
but it was tangled, clumped in the wrong filing system,
jumbled into the junk room of my mind
hoping for a girl Friday to sort things out.

How ever did I make it this far? To old age? Or oldish at least.
A train wreck of a first marriage. An almost train wreck of another.
By 45 I was finally securely on the tracks.

My children have survived their childhoods with very little sign
of damage. Only a small amount of baggage. And they love me!

I was a Gherk-in my youth but life has preserved me to tangy sweet.