In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now approaching my late 60s, wowza! I tell you a lot of creativity is still to be found in this old young self. In you, too, whatever your age. Welcome to my barefoot world!
1. The Husband and I successfully fulfilled our monthly date for vacuuming, dusting, and mopping the house. Three months in a row. Definitely a whoop-de-doo! for us. The carpet feels so good beneath our bare feet. 2. Here's another thing I'm proud about doing today. I successfully pulled a curly dock weed, more than 60 inches tall, from the middle of a young butterfly bush. Poor guy. The two plants' roots were stuck together, but not entwined, so I was able to pry them apart. Hopefully the young butterfly bush was not too traumatized. 3. I need to go out and check the seeds I planted last week. They may need a drink of water. 4. But, first I need to go cook our main meal for us. I do miss not cooking. 5. Here I am again. The seeds got their sips of water. I saw two sunflower sprouts. Yippieeee. 6. After marinating locally produced grass-fed beef stew in a concoction of spices, vinegar, oil, and whatever else for a few hours, I sliced the meat thinly a
i, ii, iii, iv Evolution of Love. That's what has been happening with the mystery craft project I'm working on for the county fair. I have to use at least four items from this list: bandana, feather, pillar candle holder, magnet, cake pan, sea shells, wooden spoon, domino, yarn, rocks, paper party hat, and plastic liter bottle. So far, I have rocks, dominoes, and a cake pan in the mix. Yarn, sea shells, and/or a party hat are in consideration. Can you tell what the dominoes spell? v, vi Iago the Iguana is one of my ABC Creatures that I created for Round 22 of ABC Wednesday . The imaginary iguana was named for my dad, Santiago, who was sometimes called Ago (pronounced like Iago). This handsome dude, Iago, is in love with an egret named Edwina. Imagine that. If you want to read his story, click this link: Iago the Iguana and the Invitation . vii "And, love is all that I can give to you," sang Nat King Cole . viii, ix I drew this illustration
Back in March , I mentioned that a poem of mine was accepted for an anthology of hay(na)ku. "Bad News" is the poem. Now that the anthology is released, I am sharing the poem with you. Hay(na)ku poems are composed of six words in three lines. What cracks me up is that my brief bio in the book is 10 times longer. Over 100 poets from around the world are featured in HAY(NA)KU 15:A Commemorative 15th Year Anniversary Anthology . Published by Paloma Press, it's edited by Eileen R. Tabios , the creator of the hay(na)ku form.
My six-word poem is called a hay(na)ku, a poetic form created by Eileen R. Tabios. The basic format is this: First line = one word. Second line = two words. Third line = Three words. If you'd like to learn more, check out Eileen's webpage . In February I submitted three poems for the upcoming anthology, HAY(NA)KU 15 (working title). One of them was accepted. Whooo-hooo! The last time I had a poem published by someone other than me was. . .hmmmm. . .about 40 years ago.
The memory of the best lemon meringue pie I ever ate Still makes me smile. Still gets me goofy with a sugar high. Still makes me feel weak at the knees. A sigh of deliciousness. That slice of the best lemon meringue pie is very long-time gone. Back in 1984. In a red building in a small shopping center in the middle of cowboy country. On The Big Island of Hawaii. A sigh of deliciousness.
My Alphabe Thursday theme—Places I've Been I visited Hawaii for the first time in Fall 1984. A girlfriend and I had plans to backpack the trail in Kauai, but she dropped out a few weeks before our departure. My vacation days were already set, so, I took the plunge and went to Hawaii by myself. The moment I stepped off the plane in Honolulu, I felt like I'd come home. The warm breeze, swaying palms, the sultry air, the local people. They all spoke to my being. Unlike the Philippines that I'd visited 10 years earlier. Unlike Hollister where I was born and raised. Unlike San Francisco where I was then living. The first time I drove into a sugar cane field, I wondered if the Daddy may have worked there long ago. The Daddy lived in Hawaii from his early 20s to his early 40s. I asked him once, "Where did you live?" "All over," he said. "Maui. Hilo. Kauai. Oahu. All over." He signed a three-year contract to work in the Hawaiian sug
I like Autumn. I seem to wake up in the fall. Maybe it's because I'm a fall Autumn baby. Yes, that sounds good. This week, I'm participating in Outdoor Wednesday , hosted by A Southern Daydreamer. See what other bloggers have been doing outside by clicking here . P.S. I'm also linking up with Follow Friday 40 and Over, hosted by Never Growing Old. Come check out other blogs with me by clicking here .
The little old lady walked slowly, slowly, painstakingly slowly across the street. The grandpa waited impatiently for her to cross completely pass his car. "C'mon on, Rebecca," he muttered from behind the wheel. "Do you know her, Grandpa?" asked his young, earnest grandson. "No." "How do you know that's her name?" "They're all Rebecca," the grandpa said. "All little old ladies." C'mon, Rebecca. The earnest young grandson was the husband. He told me this story (of course not exactly in those words) after our first time sitting together in a car waiting for a little old lady to slowly, slowly, painstakingly slowly do something. I say "something" because I don't remember what it was, though most likely the little old lady was in her car, and we were waiting for her to turn left or right, drive across the intersection, or edge into a parking spot. C'mon, Rebecca. We have maintained the husband'
Senryu, what? It's a type of Japanese poem that is similar in format as the haiku. Haiku, huh? Okay, this is not English class, but I know you wish to be enlightened. If not, you will, by golly. Or, you can simply scroll down to the poems. My education of all things haiku came last night when I finally wrote the last line to my haiku-in-progress. I felt that it wasn't really a haiku. So, off to Google my questioning mind and tippity-tap fingers went. In short, the haiku and senryu are three-line poems composed of 17 syllables. The pattern is five syllables in the first line, seven in the second, and five in the third. Haiku poems are about nature; no mention of human foibles allowed. Senryu poems are about human nature; no reference to the natural world at all. Now, you know. It didn't hurt, did it? Here's a true haiku by Basho Matsuo, who is said to be the first great haiku poet. He lived during the 17th century. An old silent pond... A frog jumps into the pond, sp
Today is Memorial Day. Here, then, I share with you two poems from the public domain. Be forewarned: The poems are graphic. They are ugly. They are painful. As they should be. These poems give us a glimpse into the world of men and women who live and risk dying in war, any war, so that corporations, businesses, churches, and other institutions may continue. I am not advocating for or against war by presenting these two poems. I'll tell you this though: I would love the ideal conditions that beauty contestants want, "World peace." This first poem was written by Alan Seeger , an American poet who joined the French Foreign Legion in 1914 so he could fight in the war against the Central Powers. He was killed in action in France two years later. Rendezvous by Alan Seeger I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air - I have a ren
Yesterday was designated Haiku Day for the Wordcount Blogathon. I missed it. Well, I could've posted my haiku, but then I'd have to think up something for today. Drum roll please. . . . I give you the haiku that visited my mind. The Lawrence Welk Show Tenor Feeney sang. Daddy listened and then said "He earned his two bits." I have a feeling my haiku is really not one. Oh, well. That's all that's in the old noggin for now.