Poetry Monday: Hair

It's Poetry Monday, and this week's topic is "hair". 

Join Delores and me as we comb through our minds, brush up on our skills, and present our "hair" poems for the world's enjoyment :)

If you'd like, you can leave a poem in the comments on either of our blogs, or post on your own blog and leave us a note in the comments so we can find  you.

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There's so much can be said about hair.

And a lot of it has already been said in the title song from the musical Hair (which then became a huge hit for  The Cowsills):

". . . long, straight, curly, fuzzy, snaggy, shaggy
Ratty, matty, oily, greasy, fleecy, shining, gleaming
Streaming, flaxen, waxen, knotted, polka dotted
Twisted, beaded, braided, powdered, flowered and confettied
Bangled, tangled, spangled and spaghettied . . ."

So what is there possibly left to say about hair?

I've written before about my own hair and my struggle to find a hairstylist who can cut it to my liking. Those posts are here and here.

Things have improved somewhat on the haircut front, and I hate to rock the boat for fear of making them worse again, so I'm pretty much just getting the same cut over and over, and trying to be thankful I have hair at all, because I don't have the face to successfully shave my head. Also, I am very, very grateful that my life is so easy that a haircut is the hardest choice I have to make.

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Half-Resigned To My Awful Fate

Do I care
If my hair
Is not quite
What I like?

Yes I do
And I rue
When my cuts
Drive me nuts

Do I swear
Do I glare
Do I flare
Oh BEWARE

. . . Ah, but still
It's a thrill
That my hair
Is still there . . .

But Lizzie, too, is trying to be a big girl about it.

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Over to you, Delores, for a new topic, which I will post when it has been finalized.

Wishing you a good week, everyone.

Update:  Next week's topic is DISTANCE . . . thank you Delores :)

Poetry Monday: Winter Windows

It's Poetry Monday and this week's topic, courtesy of Delores, is WINTER WINDOWS.

Join us as we squint through those windows and see what we can see . . .

You can leave a poem in the comments on either of our blogs, or in the comments below. If you do the latter, please leave a comment so we can come along and read.

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Winter Windows, eh? I knew this would be a challenge (for me) when Delores suggested it last week.

Let me just get my trusty hunting cats and my explorer scarf and my magnifying glass and see what thoughts I can scare out of the underbrush in my brain . . .

Donkey -- with cats, scarf, and magnifying glass. No?? Come on, use that imagination of yours :)

Here's what I found on my hunting trip.

Although February used to be quite a snowy month where I live, the last few years have been very "open" (not much snow cover). This year follows that trend. We have had quite a few snowstorms, but in between those the snow has either melted or been washed away by rain.

One thing that I like about snow on the ground is how it makes the days (and nights) look brighter, because it reflects the light. When there is no snow, the landscape looks drab and colourless.

So, instead of seeing snow and ice out my winter windows, I'm seeing . . .


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What I See

Through this February glass
All I see is dead, brown grass
Leafless trees, expired flowers
How I long for April showers



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Oh, yes indeedy, it IS a short one today 😀  Aren't we all lucky??

Now . . . how about HAIR as next week's topic? Delores, are you game?

Have a good week, everyone!

Poetry Monday: Driving

It's Poetry Monday, and this week's topic is "driving" . . . Join Delores and me as we take this topic out for a spin! You can leave a poem in the comments on either of our blogs, or on your own. If you do the latter, be sure to leave a comment so we can come along and enjoy your contribution.

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As you might have guessed from my accidental posting earlier, which I was only attempting to rename so I could start this one instead, but failed, I was going to write about all the driving I did during December and January to our daughter's house, which our son is now renting, which we were helping to prepare for rental, which is a three-and-a-half-hour round trip away from us; driving that took me through rain, snow flurries, snow squalls, heavy snow, unplowed roads, and unsalted roads, and always the trip home was after dark, so there was that complication, too.

And then I realized, there really wasn't anything to write about, much less write a good poem about. I drove. I ran into weather. I got home unscathed. I did it numerous times. I'm still alive.

It always faintly surprises me -- but definitely makes me happy -- when I do that drive and I get home alive. I feel like someday that will not happen. It's mostly highway, and I'm fine with that, but I don't like the merging into traffic and I really, really don't like when traffic is merging with me. Add in the bad weather and it gets my blood pressure up a bit.

However, it's not at all exciting or interesting except in the way that I keep having a sense of impending doom and it keeps turning out okay.

So at the last minute I decided I had to write about "driving" in some other way.

I love this icanhas.cheezburger.com meme, so I started with that:

I was the primary vehicular conveyance operator when our kids were in school, so I identify with this kitty. (Kids, if you're reading, it was the carpool kids I'm talking about, not you, LOL)

But that didn't loosen up my poem-writing brain cells a bit, so I decided just to post all the memes in my files about animals driving vehicles. Don't worry, there's a poem at the end, kinda.

And the poem? It's a re-working of an old verse my friends and I used to write in each other's autograph books back in junior high school (do you remember autograph books?) and the original went like this (insert name of friend where I have put Jenny):

Jenny had a little car
And it was painted red
And everywhere that Jenny went
The police picked up the dead

It doesn't seem so funny now, after decades of driving -- and decades of reading about road fatalities in the newspapers -- but at the time we thought it was hilarious.

Anyhow, my poem today is prompted by a story my long-haul trucker uncle told us a few years back. He and another trucker were driving one behind the other on a stretch of highway, and his buddy told him to look out for a particular colour and make of car that had just passed him and was approaching my uncle's truck to pass him. The buddy said to take a good look at the woman driving the car.

So my uncle did. And what did he see? The woman was nursing a baby, drinking a can of pop, smoking a cigarette, and talking on her cell phone. While passing tractor-trailers on the highway.

True story.

Phew! Makes you wonder how long she lived to keep doing that . . .

Time for the new version.


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Driving

Missy had a little car
She liked to drive it fast
If there were any cars in front
She simply had to pass

If thirst or hunger crossed her mind
She drank or ate at will
If craving for a cigarette
Her craving she'd fulfill

If friends sent her a text or two
Or called her on her phone
She'd type or chat without delay
Too social to postpone

She thought that highway safety rules
Were never meant for her
But only for "the other guy"
To whom she was a blur

Then came a day she thumbed her nose
At rules one time too many
What happened then in Missy's life?
Why, Missy hadn't any


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Whoa, that took a dark turn. But also a realistic one. I just hope Missy didn't take anyone else out with her when she went for her final drive . . .

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Please have a good week and drive safely! And especially watch out for the Missys of the world. So you can come back next week and see what Delores and I are up to :)

Nothing to do with the post or the poem, but what a cool cat :)

Update:  Delores has come up with next week's topic:  WINTER WINDOWS . . . thank you, Delores!

 

Poetry Monday: Soup

Once again, it's Poetry Monday, and time for some culture round these parts.

Culture.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Not here, I'm afraid :)

Anyhow, the topic this week, provided by Delores in Diane's continuing absence, is SOUP. Feel free to leave a poem in the comments on either of our blogs, or on your own blog (and if you do that, please leave a comment to let us know how to find you and cheer  you on).

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Soup. Bloop. Goop. Why do the words that rhyme with soup sound so bad?

It shouldn't be like that, because soup is GOOD. It tastes good and it's good for you. In the winter hot soup warms us up, and in the summer cold soup cools us down.

You have to be careful, though. If you put too much stuff in soup, or make the broth too thick, then what you've got is -- well, that's in my poem.

I should warn you that I took a few liberties with words here. If you care deeply about everything related to writing being correct and proper, look away now.

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Soup Rules

Begin with a liquid, like water or broth
Cut up some veggies and add to the pot(h)
Put in some meat if you want to - or not(h)
Simmer 'til tender and soup's what you've got(h)

Eat on its own, or eat with some bread
If bread's not avail., then use crackers instead
If someone has eaten the crackers (hmm, Fred*?)
Throw in some croutons and eat soup in bed.

In winter make sure soup's unbearably hot
In summer make sure that hot is what it's not
(And one way to do this - it's only a thought -
Is making soup popsicles! . . . er . . . maybe not?)

Whatever the temp. is, I must caution you
When it comes to ingreds., you must use just a few
For if it's too thick, that will simply not do
If you're using a fork, it's not soup -- it is stew!

Spoon for soup.

Fork for stew.

 Meat tenderizer for protecting your meal from marauding thieves.

 (Photo: Pixabay)

*This is Fred:

Fred is standing in for Polly; he would like to know if you've bought more crackers yet.

(Photo: Pixabay)

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If you're wondering whether today's title Soup Rules means "rules for making soup" or if it means "soup is awesome", the answer is Yes.


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Wishing you a good week, with good food (whether hot, cold, or lukewarm) and well-behaved pets (whether feathered, furred, finned, or bare nekkid) . . .


NOTE TO DELORES:  Want to tackle DRIVING next week? 

Update:  It's official -- the topic next week is "driving" . . . good luck :)

Poetry Monday: Socks

We're back, Delores and I, while Diane is away cavorting and restoring her pome-writing brain cells.

(Note: I know I promised not to use "pome" any more, but dang it, sometimes you need a one-syllable word and "poem" just doesn't fit. This is the case again today in my poem below.)

Join us if you dare for this week's topic:  SOCKS. Feel free to leave a poem on either of our blogs, or on your own blog, with a comment here to let us know where to find you.

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Now, I suspect that socks are not something our friends in the Southern Hemisphere want to even think about, with the extreme heat they have been experiencing.

Although I wonder if wearing wet socks would have a cooling effect. I hope I can remember to try this in July.

From October to April in my part of the world, socks are pretty much a necessity. I even have special bed socks I wear to fall asleep in. They are fluffy and somewhat loose. Somehow, by morning, the socks are off even though I don't wake up to remove them. I guess the sentence "sleep knocks my socks off" might apply here. Maybe. Or maybe not.

Anyhow, there are plenty of other uses for socks besides wearing them.

I think many people have seen or heard of a sock monkey:

And sock snowmen:

But have you ever seen a sock parrot?

Sock sheep?

A sock owl?

A sock koala?

Sock kangaroos, with little 'roos in their pockets?

A sock sloth?

\

I could go on and on; just Google "sock animals" if you'd like to find more. (Or go to Craft Passion; most of these photos are screen shots from her blog. She does exquisitely detailed pieces; they are amazing. I'm hoping against hope that she doesn't mind me showing her work, although, if she does, and contacts me, I will remove them.)

One last thought on socks: have you ever read Dr. Seuss's well-known children's book called Fox in Socks? Fortunately, Dr. Seuss didn't use up all the words that rhyme with fox and socks; he used only box and Knox, another character in the story. Then he moved on to a bunch of other rhymes. Whew. So there should still be some rhyming words left for me.

Here we go.

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Fashionable Raptors

I'd like to pen
A pome on socks
I can't use fox
Or box or Knox
They're all in use
By Dr. Seuss

Instead I'll write
Of hawks in socks
Who go for walks
In bright red crocs
And take abuse
For their sock use

I'd like to say
The hawks in socks
Don't mind the knocks
Are not flummox'd
By jeering moose
Or sneering goose

But I'd be wrong
The hawks in socks
Form up in flocks
And clean the clocks
Of moose and goose
. . . And kick caboose*


*otherwise known as "kick butt"

You want me to wear WHAT??? No. Just . . . NO. I can kick butt, including donkey butt, without any stinkin' socks or bright red crocs . . .  wait, do you have any yellow crocs instead? . . . you know, to match my handsome (if I do say so myself) yellow markings . . .

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This was a tough poem to complete, because once I finished the first verse I decided to challenge myself to stick with the same rhyme scheme for the rest of the verses: abbbdd. If you look closely you will see I managed all except the "a's" and I had to add a " 'd" on "flummox", but the storyline suffered. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing learned! I'm happy with it, considering it took thirty minutes to complete, including the final picture and caption. Hah. That's what happens when my "craft" side overpowers my "poetry" side and uses up all the writing time looking at pictures of things made of socks :)

Have a good week, people! Try to stay on the path you intend, instead of wandering off into the bushes at the side of the road like a certain donkey I know . . .

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 When Delores and I come up with a topic for next week, I'll be back with an update!

UPDATE:  Next week's topic is . . . SOUP . . . thank you, Delores!

And here is a picture provided by my son after he read this post:

Is that not awesome??? Yellow "socks" and red crocs :)

You Don't Have To Buy The Product To Appreciate The Marketing

Lately whenever I view a video on YouTube, this ad keeps popping up.

Have you seen it yet?

I find it captivating. Mesmerizing. Creative. Brilliant.

Disclaimer:  I have no Apple products in the house and do not intend to buy any.

A thousand years ago when I used to watch TV, I enjoyed some of the ads far more than the shows. It didn't make me buy any of the stuff being advertised, though.

But I say genius is genius, no matter what shape it comes in.

Wishing you something -- ANYTHING -- to be enthusiastic about!

Disregard the cat's opinion :)

Stupid Experiments 1 & 2

You know those ads you sometimes see with a disclaimer: "Do not try this at home," right?

This is your lucky day. Here's something daring but safe for you to try at home.

Put a 4-cup measuring cup of water in your freezer. Stir every half hour until it's slushy.

Put on a pair of knee high boots, if you have them. Regular footwear will do if you have no boots.

Pour the slushy ice water into the side of your boot (or other footwear).

This is how it feels to clean heavy, wet snow off my car.

I'm short (< 5 ft,), and when I pull the snow toward me with the snow brush, it lands right in my boots because my arm is not long enough to reach halfway across the car (even with the long-handled brush) unless I'm standing right next to it. Also, I can't push the snow away from me (off the other side of the car) for the same reason -- shortness.

Here's another experiment.

(What's that? You didn't like the last one?

It was safe, wasn't it?

Go on now, like a good little scientist.)

Make some ice cubes.

Put on some eye protection. (Remember, we must be safe!)

Crush the ice cubes into tiny, tiny bits.

Don't take off your eye protection just yet.

Get someone to throw the icy bits in your face. If no one will do this for you, throw them in your face yourself. It reduces the element of surprise, but it's almost as good.

This is how it feels to clean light, fluffy snow off my car when the winter wind is blowing.

Because I'm short . . . . . . . .

Ahhhh. Winter. Gotta love it.

This is not me. But I've looked like this a few times. (Photo: Pixabay)

I would wish you a shock-free week, my people, but if you tried these experiments, I'm afraid it's too late :)

Poetry Monday, Suddenly Resuscitated . . .

Delores, over at Mumblings, decided to give Poetry Monday some CPR while Diane is gone. She suggested the topic "ice and snow" for anyone who wants to have a go at a poem this week. Right now I've got plenty of both right outside the door.

But . . . as happens so often, my mind went wandering off by itself, and I didn't notice because I was too busy putting on extra socks to stay warm, and the poor feeble thing ended up in . . . THE FREEZER?? WHAT THE HECK . . .??

This one's for my friends in Australia, who are suffering from terrible heat right now. And anyone else, anywhere else, who is doing the same -- or will be, in six months from now, as the world turns some more.

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To Every Thing There Is A Season

Too many suppertimes
Pulling out the frozen veggies
Or the oven-baked French fries
From the freezer
And stuffing half-empty bags back in

Too many grocery days
Flinging the new frozen goods
Haphazardly
Into the same
Cold cave

Eventually
All I can see
In there
Is
A frozen icy mess

And then it's time to
Organize
Use up
And - alas -
Sometimes discard

It's a cold job
Not a good thing to do
In winter
When I'm already
Frozen stiff

The solution is obvious
Put the job off
Until summer

Store the food
In a picnic cooler
While slowly --
Very slowly --
Rummaging
And cleaning
And savouring the cold
On a miserably hot day

(I might even stick my whole head in)

But don't forget to wear your mittens in the freezer. It's hard to explain frostbite in mid-summer.

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MESSAGE FOR DELORES:

It must be my turn now!

Next Monday, your mission/topic (should you choose to accept it) is . . . SOCKS . . .

Heh heh heh

Have a great week, everyone :)