A Mynah Work: Seeds of Thought/Poetic Injustice

 

Tripper RIP June 17,2011

This is what happens when you plant catnip seeds.

 

Corn Seeds

After the frost,

Is lost.

We rubes,

Plant corn in TP tubes,

Port and starboard;

In tubes of cardboard.

 

Where does one plant parsnips?

You can plant them in the road.

Or feed them to a toad.

Poke them with a goad.

And make them wear a snood.

 

 

A mynah work: Molokai

 

An owl, would make them howl.
A hawk, would end their squawk.
They’d snag those noisome mynahs.
And turn them into dinners.

Talons, the pests would fear.
They’d pay their own airfare.
To another island rally.
And liberate the pali.

 

Sea Song

Musical pun

Is all in fun

Tune a fish!

Kabob a shish

Water the dish

And get your wish

 

 

Poetic Injustice: The spirit of the potato rises with the moon

 

Drink the white lightning.

Are your spirits brightening?

Especially when distilled.

That’s why the soil is tilled.

 

Have you tasted any?

You can be so canny.

Not that I remember.

Don’t be a dissembler.

Maybe I blacked out.

You’re no Boy Scout!

 

It will be our secret.

You will be discreet.

Well, thank the Lord for that.

No tit-for-tat.

 

With confidentiality-

Let’s begin.

Will Poitín wash away,

The stain of sin?

 

Yes, if used at baptism!

You’ll start another schism.

‘Twould have to be dilute. **

And the pastor mute!

 

** A minute impurity in Baptismal water would neither add to nor detract from the sacrament.

 

Rain, at Last

 

Raindrops pound while sleep we must.

They rinsed the leaves and touched the dust.

Sadly, all the roots still lust.

Stormy only wet the crust.

Self publishing 2 – improving

Clarissa Gosling

Self publishing 2_ improving.png

In the previous post in this series I wrote about the importance of sitting down to write. You can’t succeed self publishing books if you have nothing to publish.

As well as writing, and the pure drive to get words on the page, you need to be looking to improve your craft of writing. Make what you do write better. And understand that this is a lifelong task – as long as you are writing there is always something to improve.

Story structure, characterisation, emotional resonance, dialogue, descriptions, outlining methods, how to create tension, … this list can go on and on. And I have by no means mastered any of them! I am still finding out what works for me. I find this really exciting – a challenge to see how my writing improves the more I do it. Trying to find new ways to describe things. Description…

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From Oasis to Atoll

 

More than a half-century ago, four members of a wedding headed west traversing four states, the Mississippi, and Missouri Rivers. At two in the morning, we lost our way in a desert of Iowa corn. We scrutinized our paper road map to no avail. Ahead and to our right, mercury-vapor lamps buzzed their sharp blue rays at an isolated house and barn. Being city-folks, we decided—perhaps irrationally— that we might find ourselves on the receiving end of buckshot if we approached the sleeping homestead, so we looked to the sky for guidance—prayers and celestial navigation.

For some reason, Iowa had more stars than we’d seen in our cities. Nevertheless, we found the Big Dipper and Polaris. Reoriented, we zigzagged along any westward trail we could find until we stumbled upon a paved road with highway signs. What a wonderful feeling to locate ourselves on the roadmap. In time, we connected with Route 20—a road that runs from Boston to Oregon. Twenty steered us through endless Iowa-cornfields, across Missouri, and into the endless Nebraska-cornfields. Eventually, Route 20 brought us to O’Neill Nebraska. Handwritten directions guided us to the bride’s family farm—an oasis of trees amid the endlessly dry and sand-colored rows of corn. In true oasis fashion, the family welcomed us as friends they’d never met, offering us food, and a place to sleep. The rehearsal, the wedding, the celebration, and the times in-between remain fuzzy but pleasant memories.

Our hosts explained that oasis trees were a luxury—something like pets or exotic plants. The plains were meant for grass, not trees. Trees may survive along river or stream banks, but on a farm they needed TLC, especially watering during dry-spells. In return, cottonwoods, oaks, and walnuts blocked some of the wind and cooled man and beast in summer.

My image of the oasis surrounded by Nebraska corn suffered a devastating jolt during the news coverage of this week’s bomb cyclone in the plains, including Nebraska.  Ariel images revealed fallow farmland flooded from horizon to horizon. Occasionally, rings or clusters of trees—like atolls—surrounded flooded houses, barns, and sheds. I’m not sure how O’Neill fared, but it has likely suffered crippling losses. Fortunately, my friends survived, although the floods swept away a local access road.

Meteorologists predict the worst is yet to come. As snow and ice melt upstream and the flooding swells rivers to the south. Destruction and misery will multiply downstream. The short and long-term consequences will challenge the skills and resources of emergency managers and stress the agricultural sector already suffering from tariffs.

As in Louisiana and California, levy-failures exacerbated property loss and environmental degradation. The USA has long ignored infrastructure. Supposedly, both Parties agree on this issue.

Nikita Khrushchev said, “We do not have to invade the United States. We will destroy you from within.” From the looks of our infrastructure, the USA is on its way to destruction. Thanks to Nikita and his ilk, our obsession with defense spending for tanks and aircraft that the Generals have rejected has shortchanged infrastructure. Neglect and misguided priorities have begun to process of destroying America from within.

 

 

850 x 400 · jpegazquotes.com

 

Diogenes Eats Humble Hummus

 

We needed yeast and a few other things, so I drove to Market Basket to fill a shopping cart with bare necessities, among them a container of hummus, and of course, the yeast. The yeast was the smallest item in the cart, so I had to make sure it didn’t escape.

At check-out, I tapped my credit card on the counter and chatted with the bagger as she loaded my items. I paid no attention to the yeast until I arrived home.

Where was it? I searched the sundry shopping bags I’d used—no yeast.

Maybe it fell out of my cart and was never bagged. Now I had to find the receipt. You can tell, I’m disorganized. But I did find the sales slip and checked each item. I’d paid $1.49 for a three-pack of quick rising yeast. Did I put it in the refrigerator? No!

Well, if I lost the yeast, other items may have gone astray. Careful screening of the receipt revealed I’d paid $3.49 for the hummus, but it too was gone. A psychologist friend once told me I suffered from Diogenes Syndrome. You remember Diogenes, the guy with the lamp searching for an honest man. In my case, I’d spent years of my life looking for misplaced items like yeast and hummus.

Yes, my life is a mess. Imagine a desk piled with papers surrounding a laptop. Look over the pile. That’s me behind it. As a Diogenes sufferer, I’ve developed coping skills. These skills do not include a filing system or shedding clutter. Diogenes taught me that if two things disappear, they likely ran off together and hide in the same place. I’d probably misplaced a shopping bag. Who knows what else the bag might hold, perhaps an honest man?

No luck. I was out $4.98 and a cloth shopping bag. No big deal, right?

Oh, no. My life was ruined.

“What?” you say. “You could hop in the car and Diogenes the check-out counters or simply, buy replacements.”

They cost less than five dollars, but their loss got under my Diogenes skin. I admit they shouldn’t have. The mishap wounded my pride and demonstrated my attachment to trivialities. Buddhism teaches that attachment causes pain. Christianity asks that we seek first the Kingdom of God and all else will be given to us. Rely on God and not on our limited powers and we will be happy in this world and the next. I should have listened.

Anyway, this morning I found the yeast packet stuck between two bags of English Muffins. The hummus hid behind the Pico de Gallo salsa in the back of the refrigerator. All of my concern overnight hurt only me. Next time I lose something—where are my car keys?—I’m not going to worry—I’ll be late if I don’t find them—I’m going to relax and strive for a spiritual perspective and peace.

God Bless.