Saturday, August 19, 2017

New short story Our Libby - Removing statues - Poem: Eliza from my Lips

The Times had an excellent story about the racist Robert E Lee. Read it here.

I knew I must poetate upon it. Took about 45 minutes.

I do think it's quite good. 


Oh, he was a big man
our master Robert E Lee
clanking about my kitchen
with his endless questions
When are those cinnamon buns
gonna be done, he'd say, or
even Do you think if you
were ever freed you could
learn to speak the King's
English or do mathematics?

I never looked him full in
the face cept when that
big white head of his
was turned away

Oh, he loved to
deliver lashes
to his slaves
lashes, mind you,

When the war was over
he refused to free us
as they call it, free us
like we were yoked oxen

We ran away and that man
with the clanking sword
never knew that Eliza
could read and write
and that in my flowery
dress I kept a recipe book
I had carefully printed out
with ham bone soup and
corn fritters and my
sticky cinnamon buns
that became the
rage of the tethered-
together nation.


Full house at Beatriz's this afternoon. Excellent work, as always. Beatriz had enough energy to write about her homeland of Argentina and her stubborn little sister, Raquel, a brilliant child. Sadly she was killed by a drunk driver so her talents were never fully realized.

Rem continued with his radio show where Randy interviews fascinating individuals. Today we heard from Vladimir Putin, who admitted on the radio show, that he was a godlike figure, perhaps Apollo, and also an alien from outer space.

Judy led a discussion on the new unhappiness and anger of people since President Trump refused to wholeheartedly condemn white supremacist racists in Charlottesville, VA. She also read a zenlike piece which both Beatriz and I thought was "special" and very different. She pooh-poohed our thoughts, Winnie.

Just went on The Times where a former racist and white supremacist voiced his opinion of the Virginia rally. His godfather is David Duke. Read it here.

So you see, Virginia, some people can change.

Can my bad dreams be blamed on the upheaval our country is undergoing?

Let me continue. Ken Ivins - no relation to the spicy iced cookie that comes out near Halloween - wrote part two of a very unusual relationship. The chauffeur gets close - let's say intimate - to the insanely rich widow he drives around.

Awfully good. He wanted to see what it was like to be wealthy so he inhabited that situation, living in splendor and wearing Armani suits and other expensive clothes. He inherited from the dying Amanda - she had a heart condition that was killing her - an emerald necklace and earrings - so her estranged children would not get them.

Image result for emerald necklace and earrings set

Three spectacular poems by Linda Barrett, including one for David Kime whose apartment burned down.

Marf wrote about Ash and Odin - father and son from Norway - and Miss Rosamunde. She did lots of research to find out what it's like sailing in a yacht. A yacht doesn't have to be one of those huge Steven Spielberg yachts, but can be any motorboat.

Wiki - In modern use of the term, yachts differ from working ships mainly by their leisure purpose. There are two different classes of yachts: sailing and power boats. With the rise of the steamboat and other types of powerboat, sailing vessels in general came to be perceived as luxury, or recreational vessels. Later the term came to encompass large motor boats for primarily private pleasure purposes as well.

What about

Image result for kontiki      My frustration is boundless! For about $750 I bought a new HP desk top computer. You must REGISTER your Microsoft package.


Enough said othan it's not registered.

Our family has a friend named Libby who suffered a rather serious stroke. I wanted to write about it. We all grew up together in "fashionable Shaker Heights, Ohio," sez I in my story, which contains many true details.

My sister Lynn had been her special friend back then. I emailed Lynn at 7 am about details about Libby. She called me and we talked.

Five hours later - including a 20-minute nap - I presented Our Libby to our writing group.

Brava! they shouted to a man and lifted me up, opened up B's patio door, and threw me out on my fat ass.

Tonight I dined in elegance - but w/o candles - in the Willow Grove Giant beer garden. Ate lobster bisque and chicken salad on a croissant. Cold. Heat it in the microwave. I ate it cold. Very good!

Lemme tell you something pathetic. I could not remember the word "croissant." Kept thinking the word began with "p."

Just heard from my number one reviewer, sister Lynn, who really liked the Libby story including the surprise ending. I knew Libby, who overcame her stroke, was gonna die, but I didn't know how until I came to the right place in the story.

Anything else, Dear Reader?

In that case, I bid you a wonderful night, as we close in on the Total Solar Eclipse this Monday.

Image result for eclipse

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