The plainest coat
of thinnest twine
divinest in
these troubled times.
The finest suit
on vainest man
with meanest tone
once business man.
The sanest folk
with honest speech
truthful, earnest
are best to teach
via Nest
Just Gimme Some Truth
2
Category Archives: Daily Prompt
What Grown-ups Forget
Sad, isn’t it?
What?
They’ve forgotten.
Yes. Very sad. Because they’re not elephants.
Huh?
Elephants never forget. They even teach their babies how to play in the mud. Elephant babies are lucky.
My parents always tell me to stop playing in sludge. I tell them that mud is not sludge. I tell them it’s magic fudge.
I like that, magic fudge. How could grown-ups forget how good it feels when it squishes between your toes and oozes between your fingers?
It’s like The Little Prince said – “All grown-ups were once children… but only few of them remember it.”
Yes. And “only children know what they are looking for.”
Will we be like them when we grow up?
Who’s growing up?
daily word prompt- Sludge
Photo one credit
Photo two credit
Photo three credit
Toothless in a Fur Coat
Hardly Saddler’s rolled up his wagon, pitched a tent and started up his Medicine Show. He told us about his elixirs and about how, if we bought them, they could treat most of our ailments. If he had an elixir for meanness, I would have bought a bottle right then and there, mixed it into a Pearl beer and taken it straight home to Dad.
Hardley Saddler had all kinds of shows to see and games to play. One of them was a contest to see who could hammer their one big nail the fastest into the wooden board. This contest was only open to girls, since there were other contests open for boys.
“Hey, look who’s enterin’ the contest,” Dorothy says , spitting a watermelon seed at my face. I spit one back and see Aunt Nolie and Genevieve, Dorothy’s sister, step up to the boards.
Besides Aunt Nolie and Genevieve, there were five other ladies lined up at the board. The whistle blew and there they were, those gals pounding their nails in such a hurry you would have thought they were putting up a church roof to keep Jesus dry before a storm. We were all cheering and a hollering for our favorite girl and wouldn’t you know it? I was still picturing Freezer’s eyeballs twitching and Aunt Nolie hammering something else.
Aunt Nolie got real close to winning, her face just dripping with girl sweat. But Genevieve slammed that nail in quicker than a racehorse coming out the gate.
After Genevieve was declared the winner, I couldn’t believe what the first prize was. Genevieve had won herself a brand new, over-the-knee fur coat. Even the folks who had rooted for someone else to win were hooting and clapping that at least one person in Rotan owned a new fur coat.
The next morning peeked out the window and saw Lottie, Genevieve’s mother, standing outside her cabin, a cigarette dangling from her bottom lip, her bare feet in the snow. She looked over and waved to me like she does every morning. But on this particular day, she waved like she was the Queen of England except she was wearing nothing but a toothless grin and a brand new over-the-knee fur coat.
Ain’t that a pisser?
A true story from No Hill for a Stepper.
photo credit
via Particular
More than Nostalgia
The wonderful thing about writing down memories is keeping them. Because later, like me, you will find those written words.
I wrote this 26 years ago when my son was two years old:
As grown-ups, we have learned much about life. But we learn much more by watching children experience and discover the world anew. I am about to be the grandmother of my fourth grandchild. I have much yet to learn.
Childhood and it’s atmospheric beauty!
(my daughter’s first child — my second grandchild)
I am forever grateful.
via Atmospheric
Dancing Away Sorrow
My legs move fast
my feet still remember
Mama ran away.
The Charleston ends
my feet, still
I plunk a new recording on Victor Victrola
plant the needle in the grove
turn the crank.
My feet move again
green and yellow squares of rug
melt together
I spin, braid pinging from one shoulder
to the next
like two different suitors
tapping my shoulder
asking to be my dance partner.
Like a wild mushroom,
my skirt puffs
the swoosh of movement says,
“Everything will be alright again.”
I squint to believe.
photo credit
via Mushroom
The Recycling of Dead People
Perhaps, with a droll sense of humor, you will chuckle to learn what French artist Martin Drolling used to make Mummy Brown.
“Art historians believe he used the remains of French kings disinterred from the royal abbey of St. Denis in Paris” to create the burnt/raw umber hue in the below painting.
Kinda makes you think twice about what the women on the canvas are actually thinking.
daily word prompt: via Droll
To Ask for Help
The inside of your mind is torn
you ache for someone’s guidance
yet thrusted hand keeps them away
retained, a thunderous silence
Problems stem from holding back
and keeping troubles bound
The tigers growl, the gators snap
the lions, they surround
Isn’t is a comfort, though
to feel a warming hand
rest softly on your shoulder, stilled,
a yearn without demand?
To ask for help, there’s nothing wrong
seek others for direction
in grief or pain or lover’s quarrel
or self-imposed rejection
Why hold fast those troubled woes?
Let others help unleash
the honks of monsters, a demons fear,
a sorrow, then released
photo credit
Plain or Pretty – we can all relate to this
A reminder about the challenges of growing into ourselves.
I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth
And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say “come dance with me”
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn’t all it seems at seventeen
A brown eyed girl in hand me downs
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn’t all it seems at seventeen
A brown eyed girl in hand me downs
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said: “pity please the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve”
The rich relationed hometown queen
Said: “pity please the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve”
The rich relationed hometown queen
Marries into what she needs
With a guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly
So remember those who win the game
With a guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly
So remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
In debitures of quality and dubious integrity
Their small-town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
In debitures of quality and dubious integrity
Their small-town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received at seventeen
To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
When dreams were all they gave for free
It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
When dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me…
We all play the game, and when we dare
We cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
We all play the game, and when we dare
We cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
That call and say: “come on, dance with me”
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me, at seventeen
That call and say: “come on, dance with me”
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me, at seventeen
by Janis Ian
photo credit
daily post prompt: Dubious
Get Rid and Live
Once you get rid of the riffraff, the world is calm and beautiful.
I created this image by merging two of my paintings via photoshop.
daily word press prompt: via Riff
The World is More
Ah! What a delight
to open one’s eyes and discover
the world is more
than black and white.
painting by CD-W after Jean Siméon Chardin’s self portrait
daily photo prompt: Black
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 