Poetry | Posted by Jannie on 12 April 2011 @ 6:27 PM
… running through molten silk
or cows wearing Spandex
or pigs dancing with geese
nor is it a good day for poems
about fair young maidens wooed
by rock stars in velvet jodphurs
nor poems about retired sailors
selling surfboard wax on piers
where bikinied girls are skating
and it’s definitely not a good day
for poems about hidden passages
in castles I may never dance in.
it is however, an excellent day for
poems about hammers ringing on
wooden pegs in medieval forests,
hammers slung by men whose happy
singing rings as melodiously as mud,
men free from hard drive crashes
and car crashes and banking crashes
but not free from crashes of the heart
when wives run off with troubadors.
and while we’re on the topic of wives,
today is a great day for poems about
wives drinking wine up in tall trees and
poems about wives drifting through the
Egyptian treasures at the Metropolitan
Museum of Art, and wives dyeing socks
with pigments invented after reading
books on ways to darken bright rooms
and on ways to brighten dark moods.
today is not a good day for poems about
horses gliding among molten silk birches
but it’s a great day for poems in general.
~~~~~
(Met Museum of Art photo above belongs to Awesome Babs Blabs)
Whoooohooooo, my second week at One Shot Wednesday, Babies!
That’s One Shot over at One Stop Poetry, oh yeah.
Poetry, The Pea | Posted by Jannie on 10 April 2011 @ 5:55 PM
Some feet worry holes in floors,
while others sneak in through back doors.
Some feet tiptoe late at night
up the trellis and out of sight.
Some feet rush down subway stairs
to catch fast trains that go nowhere.
Some feet laze by pools where maids
bring fluffy towels and lemonade.
But the bestest feet of all
belong to someone cute and small.
Whoever could that small one be?
My one, my only — Sweetie Pea.
Just Good Stuff | Posted by Jannie on 7 April 2011 @ 4:55 PM
…so I am!
Giving away two organic soaps.
Two commenters chosen randomly
on this post will each receive one soap.
Via snailmail, as in The Postal Service.
PLUS, each a letter on these…
PLUS, each a NEW CAR!!!!!
Commenters world-wide welcome.
Say “no thanks” if opting out of give-away.
(Just kidding on the new car.)
Those were 55 words for The G-Man.
Write your own 55 — it’s fun and fat-free!
Let G-Man know you’ve posted it and he’ll pop over and comment.
Blue Bunny will announce the 2 winners on my 55 next week.
(Actual soaps somewhat smaller than photoshopped in G-Man’s hand.)
Posted with love, by Jannie
xxoxoxoxoxo
Photography, Poetry | Posted by Jannie on 5 April 2011 @ 1:16 PM
I met Iris when I was 6 and she 76
and to this day she remains the
sprightliest woman I’ve ever known.
She’d break into Russian dance
on the kitchen floor while bending
over to pick up a dropped cookie,
and keep flinging herself all the way
’round the old oak table on the linoleum
installed just after the first world war.
She’d scale the rose trellis and rescue
some wailing cat or child or husband
and not lose a drop from her teacup.
She’d take us all sailing on her ship
and fend off every pirate with a mere
wag of her long skinny index finger.
I met Iris when I was very young
and she even younger, and I’ll never
forget her blue eyes that danced like
a squirrel who’d finally gnawed a hole
into a chef’s pecan and walnut pantry,
a squirrel with many mouths to feed.
Iris died at noon on my 111th birthday
as the last oak leaf burst from its bud,
summer tuning up in the orchestra pit.
And I still miss her.
(irises I photographed in Zilker Gardens yesterday)
And guess what?? This is my first foray into One Shot Wednesday, whoooohooooo — holy cow, I’m IN, Dudes, I’m so totally freaking IN!!!
xoxoxoxoox
Mysteries, Photography | Posted by Jannie on 3 April 2011 @ 1:19 PM
If I hadn’t developed a few bald patches on my scalp in the past month
I wouldn’t be sharing the interior of the beautiful new Westlake Dermatology building with you.
Took these a few days ago after my alopecia areata diagnosis and initial treatment.
A nice lady shot my scalp up in several places with something to hopefully restimulate hair growth.
Apparently, my own immune system is messing with my follicles.
Very naughty of it.
This could be stress related. So I’ve identified a couple little things bothering me and let them go.
Plus, I’m going to get my thyroid, iron and blood count checked next week, have a look-see.
I bet the patches will fill in just fine and dandy. Eventually.
And won’t lead to alopecia totalis, or universalis.
(Hopefully.)
“Regrowth could take a year or two,” said the needle lady.
I see her again in a month.
You ever hear of or experience this hair loss thing? (Feel free to e-mail me, if you prefer privacy.)
Anyhoo,
I look at it this way — I don’t have anything life-threatening.
I’ve had almost 47 really great hair years.
Yep, I’ll be 47 tomorrow, April 4th. (Happy birthday me!)
And with a “comb-over” on top, and the back patches hidden under my long locks, you can’t even tell I’m missing hair!
Whoooohoooo.
Thank you, alopecia areata for keeping me humble, making me thankful for all the great things I do have, and for giving me these lovely photos to share.
xoxooxo
