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Daily Archives: March 23, 2024
I absolutely, positively, cannot think of a thing to write. My world is filled with barking and howling dogs. And has been since 3:00 this afternoon. The neighbors have evidently, accidentally, left their doodle outside. I say accidentally because this has never happened before. Maybe he let himself out and now he can’t get back, like some sort of wormhole. I don’t know, all I know is he’s been barking since three o’clock. It is now 9:30. That is a LOT of barking. He is tireless. And when he really gets to feeling sorry for himself, he gets to howling. At which time, Chester gets empathetic and pitches in. Several dogs in the neighborhood beyond also accompany them. It’s truly a cacophony and I’m about to pull my eyebrows out, one by one. Yes, I could text my neighbor and make sure everything is ok. But I don’t want to worry them if they can’t get home, or can’t send somebody to check. And I don’t know how to put it nicely, “please come home and shut your dog up, he’s driving us all crazy”. I’m not known for my warm bedside manner. Because I feel certain Chester barks when I’m gone. Surely not nonstop like this, but really, who’s to say? And I don’t have a key, so no, I can’t go put him up myself. Lalalalala…..my aunt just text…
Writing Prompt #432 Write a poem that describes an epic journey a person once took long ago Go back back backFurther stillTo molten chocolate eyesAnd boredomGo back to a shoestring promiseAnd the shock factorSomething differentMad anywayAnd fed upFeels like hitting a block wall At every turnAnd so leaving to get some spaceNo wallsInstead a very short leashAnd blindersBut clarity at the same timeBecause nothing is ever One way or the otherSo much grayThere’s good in the badThere’s bad in the goodThere’s indecisivenessEven when you’re sureThe twin towersBatman buildingThe bridgeGone gone goneSometimes silver wingsSometimes a car I couldn’t rememberWest coast to GulfLighthouses and cactiIndians and rodeo queensChris Ledoux and Joe BeaverSunburns and snow-both in June-Pecan pie and spaghetti Pronghorn and grizzliesPrairie dogs and whalesPetrified forest to Mt. RushmoreI saw it all that summerAnd there are no regretsIt opened my eyes Adventure will do that And love blindsTill it doesn’t This is the one I never got around to writing when I was out of town earlier this month. I knew what I wanted to write about, my own epic journey, of course, but I couldn’t get it into words. It either came out too frivolous or too serious. I wanted to strike the balance. And it would have been nice if I had gotten it to rhyme. But no chance of that. It was an adventure of a lifetime and it taught me some valuable lessons. I still talk to my traveling…
