Poetry Monday: Notes

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

Join Delores, MotherOwl, and I as we scribble our thoughts on little scraps of . . . er . . . computer screen . . . er . . . *analogy falls flatter than a half-cooked souffle in a cold breeze*

Never mind. We all know what happens on Poetry Monday. You, too, can be a part of this. Leave your poem in the comments or post on your own blog. Use the topic, or not. Try a two line poem, a Haiku, a non-rhyming poem, an epic thousand word poem . . . . anything at all. Or just enjoy what we're offering.

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There were so many directions to go with this topic. Delores mentioned a few in her comment here last week. She suggested musical notes, notes to the butcher, hold-up notes . . . that last one really got my attention.

Imagine if bank robbers wrote their demands in rhyme. I wonder what those notes would look like?

Maybe:

Fill the bag with cash
Or your fingers I will mash

or:

Put the money in the sack
Or your head I'll surely whack

or, if they're trying to cut down on the violence:

Please fill the bag with money
And I'll thank you, honey bunny

I have to admit, I tried to write a poem that would incorporate the sad back story of the thief, who I imagined had earned a Bachelor of Arts and was trying to make it as a poet, but, being unsuccessful, was driven to a life of crime, and poured out his talent in his hold-up notes . . . but it wasn't jelling, so I turned instead to my own stacks of notes that I can't throw away because they're ALL useful or necessary (or are they?), and this is what came out.

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I Knew What It Said When I Wrote It

My stack of tiny notes is now quite dangerously high
Most of them embody things I wish to keep close by
Ideas, thoughts, and brainwaves that will never come again
Jobs to do, and names of books, and how to reach a friend
Crafts I'd like to research, and jokes I want to tell
Things I need to mail away and things I need to sell

But some of them are useless and of that there is no doubt --
My penmanship's so awful that I cannot make them out

It's okay, kitty. I'll read your notes to you, if you'll write mine for me.

(Photo: icanhas.cheezburger.com)

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Wishing you a noteworthy week, one and all :)

Next week's topic is ......... THINGS THAT COOL YOU DOWN.

Good luck!

Poetry Monday: Gardening

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

Join Delores, MotherOwl, and me as we dig for inspiration, plant idea seeds, and tend our poems with loving care. Hopefully you enjoy the bloomin' good verses we come up with and also hopefully they weren't watered with tears of frustration :)

You can do it too -- leave a poem in the comments, or post on your own blog. If you do the latter, please leave a comment so we can find you and applaud. Use the topic, or another of your choosing -- the idea is to have fun and exercise our gray matter.


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I plant flowers each summer but it's been awhile since I had a vegetable garden. My place of work is busy in late spring, making it hard to find the time to plant early enough to harvest anything in our short growing season.

You may also remember that deer often visit our yard, and they consider young garden plants to be delicious appertifs.  This year they have even come up onto our front step to eat the blossoms of my geraniums -- the muddy hoofprints gave them away. I don't want to go to all the trouble of putting in a garden just to feed the deer.

But this year I had a plan.

The deck on the back of our house is too high for the deer to reach, so I decided to do some pot gardening. No no no, not that kind of pot; while marijuana is legal in Canada now, I have zero interest in growing it, smoking it, or eating it.

I meant the kind of pot you plants things in, of course.

What did I plant? A cherry tomato plant, a zucchini plant, three cucumber plants, some peas, some lettuce, and some micro-greens.

So ........ the crops are in, the crops are up, and in some cases, the crops already have fruit or vegetables on them. They're tiny, but they're there.

It just goes to show, you should never give up on your dreams.

Unless the squirrels and/or the birds get at your dreams and wreck them.

THEN, I might give up. Stay tuned.


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Never Throw In The Trowel 

(Sung to the tune of "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands")

If you haven't got the time, never plant.
If the deer eat all your work, never plant.
If you haven't got the time and the deer eat all your work
If they drive you quite berserk, never plant.

If you get the urge to plant, squash it down.
If you want to buy some seeds, squash it down.
If you get the urge to plant and you want to buy some seeds
If you'd even welcome weeds, squash it down.

If the urge to plant gets strong, buy a pot.
If it's in you like a song, buy a pot.
If the urge to plant gets strong and it's in you like a song
If not planting just seems wrong, buy a pot.

Now your pots are full of plants: Hip Hooray!
Now your plants have grown a bunch: Hip Hooray!
Now your pots are full of plants and your plants have grown a bunch
Now go eat your home-grown lunch: Hip Hooray!

Bunnies could also be an issue, even if the squirrels and birds behave.

Thank goodness we have indoor cats . . . Wait, the neighbours have outdoor cats . . .

Six inches apart? That won't be enough!!

I wouldn't mind growing a cat instead of a cucumber; no, sir.

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Wishing you a week with good things springing up in front of your eyes as if by magic, and without any awful earworms such as "if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands" ......

Next week's topic for Poetry Monday will be ..... NOTES.

Good luck!

Poetry Monday: Drone

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

Join Delores, MotherOwl, and me as we take on this word that can mean such different things, including:
- a continuous low humming sound
- a part of a musical instrument that emits a constant sound (such as a pipe in a set of bagpipes or a string on a sitar)
- a male bee
- a remote-controlled pilotless aircraft

Surely to goodness it can't be too hard to dash off a few choice lines on this versatile word, right? RIGHT??

We'll see :)

You can leave a poem in the comments or post it on your own blog. If you do the latter, please leave a comment so we know where to find you and your offering. Use the topic, or another of your choosing -- just have fun and make those little brain cells work to earn their keep!

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My first thought when I see the word "drone" is a variation on the first of the meanings above.

I think we've all had the experience of being in a classroom or at an event where somebody at the front of the room has the rest of the people in the room trapped like bugs in a bottle while he or she does the talking.

That's real power, my friends.

A great speaker is a rare and pleasant thing. A poor speaker with uninspiring material and apathetic delivery, on the other hand, can make even the kindest and most understanding of souls think dark thoughts and wish for toothpicks to prop their eyelids open.

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Please Pass The Sledgehammer

Even speakers well-known
Have been oft heard to drone
Leaving listeners to moan
And organizers to groan

This is not to condone
Walking out on a drone
But I wouldn't bemoan
Being swapped with a clone



Here we all are, under those circumstances:

And for those who prefer pictures rather than video:

Video clip and meme found on icanhas.cheezburger.com.

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 Wishing you all a good week, free from the need for toothpicks :)

Over to you, Delores; what's the topic for next week??

Update:  GARDENING is next week's prompt. Good luck!

Poetry Monday: Portals

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

Join Delores, MotherOwl, and me as we peer into this topic and transport you to another realm with our portal poetry ... hopefully ...

You can leave a poem in the comments, or post on your own blog. If you do the latter, please leave a comment so we know how to find you and your poem. Feel free to use the given topic or any other topic of your choosing; the idea is to have fun and make our brains fire a little faster.

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I was unsure how to approach this topic at first. While I enjoy science fiction, I haven't read anything about portals for a long, long time. Are there portals in the Harry Potter books? I don't read them, so I don't know. But Delores gave me a few tips over on her blog Mumblings, and that helped.

And then one day I was watching our cat Lulu play inside a large brown paper bag, and my path forward was suddenly clear.

Lulu doesn't consider what she does in that large brown paper bag to be "play". She's completely serious when she enters that portal, and uses all eighteen of her claws to attack whatever is on the other side.

(Just between you and me, the only thing in that bag when I looked inside was a piece of kitty litter, but I think human eyes and kitty eyes see things differently.)

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i am feerce kat

in my kingdom
i rool benev  benoval
kindly
with velvet paw

there is much peece
but there is wun place
uv grate danger
full uv monsters

i gard portal vall  valyia
bravely
and i battul monsters
with all my mite

they are feerce
but i am feercer
i keep my subjet  subjekt  peepul safe
and i do not get a singul scratch

rawrrrrr

Lulu guarding the portal to monsterland. She was feeling self-conscious here because she doesn't like to have her picture taken. You should have seen her after she wrote that poem, though -- talk about self-confidence!!

Apologies to those whose mother tongue is not English; the kitty's spelling is not good. I hope it makes sense to you :)

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Wishing you a peeceful week with zero monsters to battul.

Next week's topic is ............... DRONE .......... Good luck!

Close Encounters Of The Bird Kind

A few weeks ago, I went for my usual afternoon walk along the river near our home. I stopped at the lookoff, which is built high on the river bank.

Taken facing away from the river, so as to capture the cat and shadows of the railing.

This particular day I was facing the other way, looking out over the water. Right away a couple of chickadees flitted into view, and perched in the bare branches of the bushes that grow up close to the railing. One was looking directly at me, at eye level and only an arm's length away, still chattering -- and before I could  do any more than wish in vain that my camera was turned on, he had flown to me and landed on my head.

On my HEAD, people!!

Unsure of his intentions, and not wishing to have my head pecked at or pooped on, I carefully reached up and that was enough to make him fly off. I still don't know what he was after; maybe he wanted some hair or maybe I looked like a gigantic piece of bird seed. It was shocking and delightful all rolled into one.

Not long after that, I had a different kind encounter, this time at a strip mall, the kind where stores are accessed from outside rather than inside the building. I had bought a small bag of chips to ward off hunger pangs until I could finish my errands, and was walking along the sidewalk in front of the mall, headed for my car.

I'd already noticed a couple of seagulls flying around the parking lot, shrieking insanely, as gulls do, and I was feeling sorry for them having to scrounge food in that way and at the same time idly wondering how good their eyesight was. I'm not sure why, because it was very out of character for me to do something so poorly thought through, or to litter, but I decided to test their eyesight by dropping a chip beside the sidewalk, as if by accident, figuring they'd see it sooner or later and clean it up.

They saw it Sooner, and started shrieking even louder to alert all their buddies from the far side of the parking lot. They swooped down, far too close for comfort, and looked at me with their beady little eyes. I started walking faster, but I thought I'd better drop some more chips so they would stop following me and eat instead.

All that did was attract more gulls, so I dropped some more chips. By then I was almost to my car, and walking very fast for an old girl. I swear those gulls were still looking at me as I sat in my car, sneaking the three chips that were left in the bag (it was small, remember? really small). I tried to be completely invisible, not only to make the birds go away, but in case anyone was watching my stupidity.

Not my brightest idea, and not my finest moment. Let's call this encounter shocking and educational.

I certainly know for sure now that gulls have formidable eyesight.

The head honcho of the seagulls was this close to me, but looked a lot less friendly and a lot more focused. (Source: Pixabay)

Have you had any close enounters of the wild animal kind lately?

And did you ever see the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind, which I ripped off adapted for the title of today's post?

Poetry Monday: Mail

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

Join Delores, MotherOwl, and me as we bring our poems to you Special Delivery!

You can post your poem in the comments or on your blog; if you do the latter, please leave a comment so we know where to find you.

Use the topic, or not; the idea is to have fun and maybe give your brain a workout.

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Without any preamble this week (I'm fine, I'm fine, don't worry, ha ha), here is my effort.


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We're More Alike Than Different

No matter the means of delivery--
Pony express or technology--
All of humanity feels a real thrill
When the mail brings a letter instead of a bill.

Does your mailbox look like one of these? (Source: Pixabay)

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And some mail-related funnies from icanhas.cheezburger.com . . . . . .

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Next week's topic is ............ PORTALS ............... thank you, Delores.

Wishing you some good mail this week :)

Poetry Monday: Mosquitoes

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

Join Delores, MotherOwl, and me as we delve into this topic. You can post a poem in the comments or on your own blog; if you do the latter, please leave a comment so we know where to find you. Use the topic or not -- it's all in fun and it's good exercise for the brain.

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Mosquitoes.

Tiny but deadly.

What's worse than turning out the light and climbing into bed after a long summer day and hearing ...... hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ..... all around your face? You know you won't be getting any sleep until you (1) donate blood, or (2) kill the critter.

But in the dark, it's hard to know just where to aim. And when the droning stops, things just get worse. You know the flying hypodermic needle has landed and is about to pierce your skin. You wait for the tiny prickling sensation that tells you it has started to insert its pointy proboscis, and slap yourself silly.

Hoping you've landed a death blow, you settle down to sleep again.

Ahhhhhh. Peace and quiet.

And then .............. hmmmmmmmmmmmmm ...........

It's either Lucky Lindy back again . . . or a half a dozen of her friends who've arrived for the funeral.

I say "Lucky Lindy" because, as we are often told, it's only the females who want to drink our blood. I personally have probably killed thousands of mosquitoes during my life and I bet half of them were innocent. But who can tell if a hovering mosquito is male or female?

Smack it! Smack it dead!


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My Hypocrisy

Oh, woe betide the soulless schmuck
Who kicks a dog or shoots a duck

Or pins a wriggling butterfly
Or from such things does turn his eye

My scorn for such a savage jerk
Is merited by his vicious work

. . . But I don't turn a hair and I don't say No
When somebody kills a mos-quit-o

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While searching for an appropriate mosquito-related picture, I came across some additional helpful information.


First, this:

And this: (but be sure to read the punch line. We don't want a rash of spoon burns going around the internet.)

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Wishing you a week free of things that bug you :)

Next week's topic is ........... MAIL ........... Good luck!

Poetry Monday: Stitches

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

Join Delores, MotherOwl, and me as we wrack our brains for something to write about this topic . . . or is that just me who had to root around in my brain like a kid looking for all the pieces to a small toy in a full-to-overflowing toy box??

made of stitches and cuteness

There are so many kinds of stitches . . . sewing, knitting, crocheting, cross-stitch, crewel work, stitches that doctors use to sew us up, getting a stitch in your side if you run too long, being "in stitches" over something funny, and being without a stitch of clothing.

What to write about?

Having an interest in sewing (which you may have guessed from last week's post), I should be writing about sewing stitches.  Instead, I decided to talk about the dark side of sewing -- unpicking stitches. This is the most boring, frustrating, time-consuming, and apt-to-go-sideways part of a sewing job, in my opinion. I need to have a good rant about it, and now I have the perfect excuse :)

Why would a person ever want to unpick stitches? Well, if you make a mistake while sewing, or if you want to let out a seam or hem to make a piece of clothing bigger or longer, or if you want to take apart a garment in order to re-make or repair it, you're going to need to rip out the old stitching first.

Here's the tool you need when you're unpicking stitches:

the handy seam ripper

Looks harmless and effective, right?

Well, the same little pointy part that is supposed to slip under a stitch can also easily slip under a thread of the fabric, especially when the thread and fabric are the same colour -- which will result in a hole in the fabric -- and also especially when you get older and your eyes aren't quite as sharp as they used to be. The sharp blade can also put a neat little slice in the fabric if it slips.

And if you have carpal tunnel problems? Holding that tool makes your hand go numb in less than a minute, which isn't enough time to unpick one average seam.

Enough, enough! I can rant just as well in rhyme!


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The Horrible, Awful, No Good, Very Bad Sewing Day *

I sewed a seam so straight and true
But then those jeans did not fit you
. . . So I ripped it out.

I sewed two pockets to the butt
But then I saw I'd sewn them shut
. . . So I ripped them out.

I sewed the hems to their new length
They were too short -- Oh! give me strength!
. . . So I ripped them out.

I sewed the zipper (what a chore!)
It opened upside down. (I swore.)
. . . And then I ripped it out.

The drudgery of sewing seams
Was lessened by machines, no doubt
But what I wish for now would be
An automatic ripper-out .......


*Apologies to Sesame Street's Grover and his book "Grover's Bad, Awful Day", which is the version of the story I'm familiar with, and also to Judith Voirst and her book "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" which I suspect inspired the Grover version . . .  

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Wishing you a week wherein you have more than a stitch of clothing to wear, you are in stitches at something funny in your life, and you avoid medical stitches.

Next week's topic will be ......... MOSQUITOES ......... courtesy of Delores - thanks, D!