Sonnet Challenge #22

Just in case you were wondering, there are actually a lot more sonnets being written than I post here, but I thought I’d put this one up as I was reading it to D yesterday and we had a good laugh.

 

Flip flops
Flip flops are such a comfy thing to wear,

the shoe with a relaxing attitude.

Slip on vacation hooves and then you’re there –

Flip from a boss into a cool dude.

Your toes feel freedom, something that’s so right.

No more stuffy socks inside the thong!

They’ll fit feet that are narrow, deep or wide,

and waterproof!  You really can’t go wrong.

If it’s too cold for flip flops, stay inside

and flip around the house until it warms,

then hit the beach and dip them in the tide

,the sand won’t chafe your heels, you won’t get corns.

And when you crave a lazy day that’s tops,

kick off the pumps and slip into flip flops.

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Tales from the field #9

Well, well, well.  Seems like spelling is not a prerequisite for the City of Calabasas!  This trash can was at the back of my booth on the weekend.

Misspelled trash can sign

I guess someone will need to recycle themselves back to remedial spelling.

Monthly Mailing May

Here’s my monthly mailing newsletter – reaching out to everyone with whom I cannot reach out face to face.

Humans vs Neanderthals

Here’s an interesting article from just over a month ago about how Humans may have had the edge over Neanderthals.

Not far on its heels came this article about Neanderthal art.  I guess some aspects of art history will remain a mystery, at least for a little while.

Indio Chalk Festival, Day 2.

I’ll just post the pics to show the progress.  It’s hard to type, my fingers are so sore and rough!

Indio Chalk Festival

About 11am 350 fellow chalkers arrived from local schools. These are just a few of them.

Indio Chalk Festival

One of the city photographers was kind enough to take a pic of me working on my phone.

Indio Chalk Festival

The trees/fingers and veins/rivers are now complete.

Indio Chalk Festival

Underpainting for the ocean.

Indio Chalk Festival

Ocean/hand complete with waves rushing to shore/shoulder. I used one crack in the blacktop as the area behind a wave in order to minimize the impact. Couldn’t think of how to do anything with the others.

Indio Chalk Festival

I started adding the hair/sky/space at the bottom, but then clouds came and I decided to take advantage and work on the top of the painting, as I can’t shade that part with the canopy.

Indio Chalk Festival

Yellow on top, black/blue under and sore underneath that.

Indio Chalk Festival

An inspector came by.

Indio Chalk Festival

I decided to end the day by blocking in the transitions of the sunrise part of the hair as a guide for tomorrow.

Sonnet Challenge #18

A good friend is currently in a place that is unenviable, having been diagnosed with a brain tumor and then a lung tumor.  It seems that the lung tumor is, and the brain tumor might be treatable.  Yesterday she had to give a speech to her Toastmaster group about Uncertainty.  We were talking on the weekend about this and the fact that she had just received the copy of Busting the Bard that I sent, and I said I was always open to subjects for inspiration for sonnets.  So she challenged me with her subject ‘Uncertainty’, and when a sonnet promptly fell out of the end of the pen, she found inspiration to include it in her speech.

Uncertainty
We stagger on uncertainty’s straight path,

a hodge-podge mix of dust and stepping stones

that zigzag through our lives and cut a swath

of chaos, for we know not where it goes.

Between the forest of many different trees

that hang low branches that might offer fruit,

succulent nutrition or poison’s tease,

and grow so thick that we cannot see through

to surety.  This path, these trees are set

and we must follow, gamble right and left

at forks, and clueless how to place the bet –

our lives – to flourish or to be bereft.

So flip the coin of vague uncertainty

the other side is possibility.

Sonnet Challenge #17

I seem to have spent so much time recently on travelling and teaching, there’s been little time to paint (except commissions) or write, though the most recent trip to the Phoenix area produced another eight sonnets which I have yet to even type up.  Nevertheless, even without prompting from something or someone, occasionally a poem will fall out of the end of the pen.

Happiness is a gray stick
A thick, gray, gnarly four-foot stick to hold

and lean on, when you have Atlas’s day;

warm wood to grip, not metal, when you’re cold;

a friend to prod dark paths and find your way

between elations clouds, chasm’s dark eyes.

Such is the stick of happiness, who prods

you on from gray dawn to a bright sunrise

with steadiness solider than carrot gods

that promise futures.  Happiness is now,

it takes tomorrow when it becomes today;

yesterday’s a less, not a furrowed brow –

or just a tale that we can laugh a way.

When you walk with the stick of happiness

you’ll go through life with more, and never less.