Thursday, August 3, 2017
Mark Ward used a special photo technq for this. I think it's fantastic!
Ate my usual egg breakfast while watching "Out of Gitmo" on Frontline. Each terrorist or alleged terrorist - many have never been tried - is resettled and helped to form a new life. Guarantees are given they will not attack the US or its allies again.
My short story In the Clearing was just rejected by a mag called Consequences. I quickly submitted another story.
Some poetry:
FREEDOM
With a stack of cash
in my pocket
I drove over to the
credit union
took the steps
not ramp
to get inside
and found a new man
behind the counter.
"Mat," read his placard,
a young man who looked like
the Ambassador to Liberia
and perhaps a former lover
of Maya Angelou, impeccably
dressed in suit and tie.
He called me "Miss Ruth" and
yes I know I'm not responsible
for that "peculiar institution"
but I wanted to grasp his chocolate-
colored hand, grasp it tight, but as soon
as I'd reach over he might ring
the alarm button and I'd have a
mighty lot of explaining to do.
Later today the thunderstorms
will come. I needed to do my
walk, my bad leg hurting like
Chester's in Gunsmoke, so I
drove across the street from
the credit union,
parked by a fence that said
No Parking, and walked
the neighborhood.
I'd done this before. And took
chances. Went off the main road,
and wandered about, staring at
flowers in unusual color patterns
purple, orange, yellow.
An orange trumpet vine scaled a
fence, like the ones I saw when
I was a therapist in Bensalem.
Beauty assaulted my eyes
as I wondered if Mr. Mat smelled
garlic on my breath, I had a taco
with beans and salsa, I was in a
hurry, but a controlled hurry.
Driving home, windows open, sipping
my cold water through a straw
I smelled tar. Terwood Road was
now free, so was Welsh, our
commissioner wrote us.
Freedom! Freedom!
And the tomatoes rock
on the vines and the
eggplant takes its
good old time, in
no hurry either
to be fondled and
caressed in all
its silent beauty.
***
Wikster - Nectarine is a delicious fruit which belongs to the Rosaceae family, just like plums and peaches. In fact, they are quite similar to peaches in appearance except for the lack of fuzziness on the skin, which is there on peaches. Nectarines grown in warmer temperate region are also referred to as stone fruits or drupes as they enclose a hard seed inside their outer juicy flesh.
AND A NECTARINE FOR DESSERT
Nectarines, very pretty and their
flesh so sweet to eat.
Hold it up to the light
and the rolling sound of thunder
here at my kitchen table. As a kid
I thought it was God shaking his
fist at me.
Peaches may disappoint. They may be
fibrous like a tumor and stick in
your teeth. Mushy mushy mushy like
Gerber's baby food.
Nectarine, I praise you! Always
the perfect texture, like Royal
chocolate pudding. Nectarine
you're the fruit of the gods!
You give us a smile. And where,
pray tell, is the Nectarine Tree?
Over at Styer's Orchard, in nearby
Bucks County. Pick your own, says
the website.
Can you smell the bushel of
nectarines in the back seat?
Who wants a piece of
nectarine pie?
**
Years ago I did bake a nectarine pie. And the chef of former President Obama made a nectarine pie while he was still in office. The prez joshed that it was so good it must've had 'crack' in it. Michelle quickly countered, "It does not have crack in it."
**
Obama just turned 52. I sent him a card, as prompted by the DCCC. In it I said I'm looking f/w to reading his memoirs.
**
MOM'S RECIPES
I carry them home and toss them
on the floor of my writing room.
The sources are many:
newspaper clippings
huge index cards
small index cards
cookies and pies
from the back
of the packages
I type as I relive
the golden days
of my childhood
never thinking
the bard of time
will swallow us all.
***
President Trump was revealed to the whole world today - through written transcripts from the Washington Post - as caring only about his reputation. It was a sad day in the history of America, as if we were ruled by a toddler in the body of a 70-yr old.
With a stack of cash
in my pocket
I drove over to the
credit union
took the steps
not ramp
to get inside
and found a new man
behind the counter.
"Mat," read his placard,
a young man who looked like
the Ambassador to Liberia
and perhaps a former lover
of Maya Angelou, impeccably
dressed in suit and tie.
He called me "Miss Ruth" and
yes I know I'm not responsible
for that "peculiar institution"
but I wanted to grasp his chocolate-
colored hand, grasp it tight, but as soon
as I'd reach over he might ring
the alarm button and I'd have a
mighty lot of explaining to do.
Later today the thunderstorms
will come. I needed to do my
walk, my bad leg hurting like
Chester's in Gunsmoke, so I
drove across the street from
the credit union,
parked by a fence that said
No Parking, and walked
the neighborhood.
I'd done this before. And took
chances. Went off the main road,
and wandered about, staring at
flowers in unusual color patterns
purple, orange, yellow.
An orange trumpet vine scaled a
fence, like the ones I saw when
I was a therapist in Bensalem.
Beauty assaulted my eyes
as I wondered if Mr. Mat smelled
garlic on my breath, I had a taco
with beans and salsa, I was in a
hurry, but a controlled hurry.
Driving home, windows open, sipping
my cold water through a straw
I smelled tar. Terwood Road was
now free, so was Welsh, our
commissioner wrote us.
Freedom! Freedom!
And the tomatoes rock
on the vines and the
eggplant takes its
good old time, in
no hurry either
to be fondled and
caressed in all
its silent beauty.
***
Wikster - Nectarine is a delicious fruit which belongs to the Rosaceae family, just like plums and peaches. In fact, they are quite similar to peaches in appearance except for the lack of fuzziness on the skin, which is there on peaches. Nectarines grown in warmer temperate region are also referred to as stone fruits or drupes as they enclose a hard seed inside their outer juicy flesh.
AND A NECTARINE FOR DESSERT
Nectarines, very pretty and their
flesh so sweet to eat.
Hold it up to the light
and the rolling sound of thunder
here at my kitchen table. As a kid
I thought it was God shaking his
fist at me.
Peaches may disappoint. They may be
fibrous like a tumor and stick in
your teeth. Mushy mushy mushy like
Gerber's baby food.
Nectarine, I praise you! Always
the perfect texture, like Royal
chocolate pudding. Nectarine
you're the fruit of the gods!
You give us a smile. And where,
pray tell, is the Nectarine Tree?
Over at Styer's Orchard, in nearby
Bucks County. Pick your own, says
the website.
Can you smell the bushel of
nectarines in the back seat?
Who wants a piece of
nectarine pie?
**
Years ago I did bake a nectarine pie. And the chef of former President Obama made a nectarine pie while he was still in office. The prez joshed that it was so good it must've had 'crack' in it. Michelle quickly countered, "It does not have crack in it."
**
Obama just turned 52. I sent him a card, as prompted by the DCCC. In it I said I'm looking f/w to reading his memoirs.
**
MOM'S RECIPES
I carry them home and toss them
on the floor of my writing room.
The sources are many:
newspaper clippings
huge index cards
small index cards
cookies and pies
from the back
of the packages
I type as I relive
the golden days
of my childhood
never thinking
the bard of time
will swallow us all.
***
President Trump was revealed to the whole world today - through written transcripts from the Washington Post - as caring only about his reputation. It was a sad day in the history of America, as if we were ruled by a toddler in the body of a 70-yr old.
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