New Glasses

I’m getting new glasses today.

I’ve had quite a horrible day –

It seems like no one adjusts but me,

Despite me knowing that I can be

A little impatient sometimes

Although that’s really the smallest of crimes.

I’m getting new glasses today,

And I’m getting quite excited – I think I may

See things anew, if you know what I mean,

And maybe my family will seem a little less mean

Than they do right now –

It’s silly, I’ll avow,

But I wish

For more fish

Like the poor would

For more food.

I’m getting new glasses today,

And I dare to hope that it may

Be the beginning of something, something new;

Something glamorous and hope-filled too.

I could get a job;

I may write a book;

Or maybe get caught up

In the most glorious hook-up –

The possibilities are endless,

That’s what I’m trying to say;

Anything could happen –

I’m getting new glasses today!


Untrellissing Myself

Trifecta: Week 105

PLUCK: (transitive verb)

1: to pull or pick off or out

2 a : to remove something (as hairs) from by or as if by plucking

b : rob, fleece

3: to move, remove, or separate forcibly or abruptly

4 a : to pick, pull, or grasp at

b : to play by sounding the strings with the fingers or a pick

Would you believe it if I told you

I know what it’s like to be alone?

That feeling of restlessness,

Confused for boredom, that zone,

If I told you that I know what it is

To not recognize anyone-

To beg them of the past

To reconsider what’s done-

Don’t pluck your child from its perfect life,

Don’t drop it in the middle of the Sahara to fend for itself, for dear life,

If I told you that I’ve cried and bled,

And banged my head,

Walked slower, then faster,

Afraid of coming last or

Gazed down from a height,

Stepping back only after a fight,

An ocean? No.

An ocean carries you, you can float, though

The desert will burn you if you stop, even falter

Sure death if you stop, no end to your wander.

What would you say if I told you

That I’m low on self-esteem,

That your rock is sawdust held together by steam

That I will gladly hold you up

But not until I fall apart

I will burn with a vengeance

Given enough fuel to start

That I sympathize,

But will brook no lies

That I will survive – better days are ahead now

And that just because I’m a little further along that path now

Doesn’t mean I didn’t have to find it first though

Doesn’t mean that you don’t have to find yours first though

So understand, please, that I’m only one person;

That I can’t always be the trellis, that I also need my freedom

To grow and to be

Unfettered and free

And that you’ll be alright if you keep on walking

Don’t look left or right; for a minute stop talking

And just walk.

When you’ve progressed, you’ll know it.

I promise it’ll be worth it.

Traffic Jam

Daily Prompt: State of Your Year

July 29, 2013

Write up a mid-year “State of My Year” post.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us NOW.


Urgency rising

As drivers loiter

And everyone seems to bar

My path –

Never mind that it’s theirs as well.

I am missing the warmth of my living room

I am missing the comfort of my sofa

I am missing relaxation, fun and

The thrill of speed

All because no one seems to realize

That they’re in my way.

They need to understand that

I have things to do

I have people to meet

I have a life to live

And I need to get on with it


The Many Responsibilities of Black Crayons

Friday, July 26, 2013

We want you to follow suit and give us a thirty-three word piece that has a color in it.  Use the color to describe anything you like, or use anything you like to describe your color, but keep it creative and keep it short.

Black crayons

Are ground to stubs fastest,

Being responsible for:




The sky’s lower limit


(When the artist matures)




Last but not least,

Fingernail painting.

Without: Neruda’s Take and Mine

Daily Prompt: Life After Blogs

July 28, 2013

Your life without a computer: what does it look like?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us WITHOUT.

This might be cheating, but I want to share a piece by Pablo Neruda that encapsulates the soul of what i want to say almost perfectly:

“Don’t go far off, not even for a day,
because I don’t know how to say it – a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in
an empty station when the trains are
parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because then
the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve
on the beach, may your eyelids never flutter
into the empty distance. Don’t LEAVE me for
a second, my dearest, because in that moment you’ll
have gone so far I’ll wander mazily
over all the earth, asking, will you
come back? Will you leave me here, dying?”

― Pablo Neruda

Without rain,                                                                                                    For gifts.

Drought burns.                                                                                             But a value

Without food, a                                                                                      Leftovers, trials,

Gnawing in the pit                                                                             But self-awareness.

Of stomachs; hunger.                                                                      Agonizing alone time

Without sleep, headaches                                                         But better friends. Peace.

And, without love, depression.                                          Going without means old clothes

Rainy days go from meaning  coffee and classics, to empty bottles and scraps of old letters.

A Tale of Trust and Temperament

Daily Prompt: A to Z

July 27, 2013

Create a short story, piece of memoir, or epic poem that is 26 sentences long, in which the first sentence begins with “A” and each sentence thereafter begins with the next letter of the alphabet.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us ORDERLY.

All along the end was known,

Before it even began.

Cleverness and common sense

Do not preclude ancestral fallacies,

Especially those of the heart.

Fain was he to fall for her

Given her frame,

Her response mirroring his.

Inescapable that there should be one more:

Jilted she felt, and hard done by.

Knowing the way the world works,

Lamented love’s labour lost,

Much hurt by betrayal, unrecognised as

Not of the man, but

Of the woman, friend-supposed.

Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be, but

Quite obviously her long-expressed wishes were

Relegated by the heiress of affection,

Selfishly, to where inconvenient

Truths are banished:

Under the rug.

Verily the turn of events left behind a heart-

Wrenchingly desolate tale of betrayal,

eXcuse of exigency proven enough to obliterate loyalty.

Yesterday serves as a lesson to us

Zest in trust to be wrought with care.

Confessions of a Dinner-Eater

Daily Prompt: You, the Sandwich

July 23, 2013

If a restaurant were to name something after you, what would it be? Describe it. (Bonus points if you give us a recipe!)

Photographers, artists, poets: show us DINNER.

I love take-out too much;

I know it’s true,

But please try and keep it

Between us two.

I know I’m supposed to like

Green salads, juice and rice,

And sometimes I do –

I just like having a choice.

With turkey, stuffing and cranberry,

Thanksgiving dinners are the best

Good food has a way

Of making you feel blessed.

Did I mention I love apple pie?

I do.

I like frosting, cheesecake and cake

And whipped cream too.

After I’m done,

I look at what’s left

Ethiopia and India glower;

My clean-up is deft.

The washing and putting-away-ing

I really don’t mind:

I’m a Virgo – this job fits us in a way

That’s one-of-a-kind.

Oops I forgot again:

Dinner’s supposed to be light.

Eh, maybe tomorrow

If I’m bothered to get it right.

Also, I work just a little

Different from many –

I give my thanks,

After eating, for plenty.

I feel it then

And in that moment I know

That no joy can compare

To the after-dinner glow.

Gold and Glitter

Friday, July 19, 2013

On now to this weekend’s Trifextra challenge.  This weekend we are giving you three words and asking for you to give us back another thirty of your own, making a grand total of thirty-three words. Your words to work with are:





Common metal,

Simple ring;

Eyes water and speak,

Volumes more

Than libraries offer;

Spotlight and center stage

Unnecessary now,

Because all that glitters

Isn’t gold;

But gold, rubbed clean,

Always glitters.

I do.



Daily Prompt: Far from Home

July 15, 2013

Tell us about the farthest you’ve ever traveled from home.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us DISTANCE.

When you’re miles away from home

And everything is so strange that

You need to cry alone

That’s distance.

And when you sit

Next to them and they

Look away and so do you too

You feel the distance; they’re distant.

When you’re arguing your side of the story

But they refuse to understand, and

Instead re-repeat their side for

At least the seventh time,

Or better still:

Rant about





Just to get to rant,

You feel lip-quiveringly

Distant from them. And you feel

Like crying. And sometimes

You do.


You need something

To throw, anything that would

Make noise; Shatter into a million shards

And increase the entropy of the room,

Transfer it from inside of you,

Out. But you know that

This too shall pass.

So you don’t.

Instead you break

Something that won’t stay

Broken, or at least not visibly.

Instead you break the only thing that

Should be broken, deserves to be broken.

It’s just skin anyway. It can grow back.

The distraction and the abject relief

Sting and soothe together,

And sleep intervenes.

Next morning

Is a new day

And it’s quiet.

The sky is clearer

And it may be bad,

And distances increase,

But they also do