Botticelli takes a warm bath.
Springtime in arcadia,
The Grace chicks are a threesome.
I tend to ignore the other stuff that's going on.
For triplets
they each have their subtle differences
The girls are demure,
yet they seem to be hoofing a sexy gavotte.
We need a Maypole,
I guess the Italians outnumber the English
in Elysium.
They are as soft as a pillow dream.
I wonder if they ever pillow fight -
a pajamaed affair designed
to arouse Pan and all his
goat faced minions.
It's lambing time
and the ladies
are bouncing merrily.
One day I might take note
of what else is happening
in the painting,
pull it all together
with a few well-chosen observations.
Probably, even then
there will be some odd twigs,
or bendable twists of green
I can't weave together,
no matter how hard I try.
Democrats like Damocles Sword's imminent jeopardized positions of power hail her rise,
Decades of teamsters support, NO, Harris-Demos few endorsed her in the public's eyes,
Democrats today are like the Dixiecrats of Dewey's days are playing old-school, sex-race cards,
Repubs set in their ways, and Demos are bendable like what's his face got her on second base, charades.
He needed to win, expendable, same cards played, sex-(win over for the women voters) it is a given for the race.
D for Demos who are Distancing from Drunkards--her hidden card takes centerstage--loses face.
First line expounded of my original Pie-in-the-sky, and
the rest was a shot in the dark, played with dance cards.
*She can seek help if she don't slur her words on camera that she is,
being tailed., f0x learned from Di' lawsuit--pass the buck.
Repubs are no angels in this with Trumy-Dumpy on a ticket and not a wall, the third possible gallops in time with withdrawals TBA.
I think there is someone under your table,
It may be someone from the stable,
That drink made less able,
Or someone looking for cash under the table.
I think there is someone under your table,
As you are more bendable,
And it is your table,
You should be the one to look while you are able,
And I can be the one to call the constable,
If that someone under the table,
Turns out to be unstable,
From the drink that we passed around the table,
Which we brewed behind the stable.
My flexibility has been recorded by practically no one
Yet it is my greatest, most brilliant, terrific superpower.
I have moved thirty-seven times, and have had twenty-eight jobs.
Along for the ride were three daughters and a zoo of animals.
My husband used to come in and say “pack up, we’re moving.”
We moved dogs, cats, hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs, rabbits.
We moved and moved and moved and moved and moved.
I ended up attending over thirty colleges, some no longer than two weeks.
I am flexible, I told myself, I am bendable, I will not break. I will smile.
I jumped into new situations with enthusiasm, hope, eager to please.
I found friends, I volunteered, I played hard, I walked, I ran, I played hard.
Flexibility is my most obvious super power, and I have done well with her.
Hope resounds through my soul pockets as I hear Stairway to Heaven
There is more than one road to get there, the paths pliable like a willow
It is okay to reach for all that glitters, but even the songbird understands
Things change in a blink, so there are other ways to get our souls in tune
Rock and roll is one of them for me, it makes me feel light and lively
Ready to put on my wings and fly whatever direction God will take me
There might be signs on the wall, but they may mean different things
To you than to me, and that is okay, for the stairway is not stationary.
It is pliable, bendable, easy to reach in many directions. No absolutes.
The song gives me hope that even a sinner like me can get there,
Even if I take a less glittery, grittier path, so thank you Led Zeppelin.
Lies & Fantasies fill my head
All racing through while laying in bed
Sleep should be on my mind
But no peace of mind can I find
My life is not what I wanted it to be
The world is what I wanted to see
Sunsets and sunrises all over the globe
My cards are a bust and I'm looking to fold
I can win the next hand, I'm told
Who I am has become so mental
All I want is someone bendable
Someone to take it all
Deep, in the back of my mind
Happiness should be the wish u find
Not sad, scary, bloody, gory, people who r deadly
The love I have in my heart weighs heavy
It can also keep me steady
My decisions should not need leverage
Life should not be so negative
I want positivity in my times of need
Not a dark cloud to come and shower me
Could love survive this big of a fall?
Love should overcome all
Lies & Fantasies fill my head
In a world of opinions and plastic,
answers to questions become bendable ..
Stretching every which way, when elastic
We have Barbie and Ken, that are able
In a world of, all for me, some for you
Stretching in all ways, being elastic ..
Barbie says this, Ken has a point of view
which causes division, so much static
In a world of fairness, wrong verses right
Stretching in ways that is so dramatic,
views being unmatched, the pulling is tight ..
tension exists, in a world of plastic
Barbie and Ken tangle each point of view
In a world of, all for me, some for you
_________________
Just a little Scribble
~ Lingering thoughts ~
Still trying to understand
Remember the days of Barbie Dolls that didn’t have bendable legs? Remember the high bouncing, “Superballs”? The small ones were the best for playing jacks; boy could I scoop them up before that ball came down. I loved my Slinky, “Silly Putty” and “Magic Eight Ball”. My, “Dark Shadows” game, I adored and “Candy Land”, “Shenanigans” and the “Game of Life”, were rainy day euphoria we could live in for hours. Those were the toys that, honed my imagination so, I could do what I loved most; express myself.
Nature’s children play,
Every little one has their
Favorite game thrills.
The joy of playing,
Fuels imagination
And sharpens their skills.
If I was part machine, a steampunk woman, or a steampunk dog, or a steampunk cat,
I would choose to have a machine heart, so I could be less soft.
So my feelings would not get hurt so easily, so I could
Stop crying inside when people get mean and mad,
Or a tsunami kills a bunch of innocents.
I would also choose machine eyes – big round soft brown ones,
Because of the floaties I have in my older green and hazel eyes.
Floaties could not get into steampunk eyes, right?
I would choose bendable, new steampunk machine knees.
They would jump and summersault and do cartwheels and
Other stuff I can no longer do after tearing my ACL and
Meniscus which never got fixed, because it happened
At work and Workman’s Comp told me at my age,
Surgery would not be smart.
They would call me Steampunk Annie, and I would
Run up and down alleys, saving people from the robbers,
And the drug pushers, and I would kick the drug pushers
In their petootsies and make them cry
Because they would not have steampunk eyes
Or anything. I would rock the Steampunk
World with sass and vim, and be
The super hero I know I can be!
It is my mother’s birthday today.
She is 87.
87 and weighs 121 pounds.
121 pounds of ridiculous energy
She holds exercise classes
For the 90 year olds in her
Apartment buildings
Her students are 91 and 97
They are probably lying on their
Backs right now with their legs in the air doing
Bicycle circles.
She will not walk with
Her friends unless they
Say it is okay to run
In circles around them
As they walk because
They are so
S l o w
She has never broken
A finger or an arm or anything.
She is as bendable as a willow.
She could teach yoga masters
How to be pliable.
That is my 87 year old mother
My product's diurnal, nocturnal,
Forever and aye, Eternal.
Rarer than a diamond coin,
Yet impossible to purloin.
Bendable, but won't break,
Though stretched till it ache.
Beloved of gods, high and mighty:
By the Lord of Hosts; and by Aphrodite.
Possessed by so very, very few;
Per Shakespeare--only by King Lear's Fool.
Priceless is its valuation,
Utterly immune to deflation.
**********
You know, I'd sell the world the TRUTH;
Yet were I to claim there's a buyer,
I'd be a true liar.
One of the resourceful books unbeatable;
Children’s love, care and comfort biddable
Is none better than Reader’s Digest – capable.
Articles, reports, jokes and anecdotes audible;
All are present in it; all are undoubtable.
Changing the mindset of students capable
Is a new, systematic thing coachable.
Changing the world and its cannibal
Into the virtues and values bindable.
Explaining itself if anytime culpable;
And so is famous for being countable.
Teachers, parents, students ennoble
Reader’s Digest for not being enfeeble.
Leaders or followers who are like a crucible
Change their minds and be bendable.
Behaviour and conduct – key undoubtable
Will keep you atop, elevated, lofty and able.
You're as bright as Education
Straight but bendable
You think with backup
You can recycle and retrieve memories
You define bravery
And your emotions speak
Your desire is classic deliverance
For you swim in deserts
And plant wisdom fruits
You climb space and find impossibilities
As you massage thousand of hearts.
You're a folded situation
With an inside out beauty
Your hand is a Miracle
That offers deliverance through writings
You're the white spot, in a dark room.
As I flash through the books and screens,
The plots take me to new terrains.
I experience a world beyond the reality,
where every image might as well be a fantasy.
I see visuals within my peripherals.
Can it be a hallucination?
Could it be more than a daydream?
Or am I blinded?
Blinded by an extreme desire to indulge myself.
Immerse myself in the perfectly bendable world.
Comfort myself through the ease of a dreamer's imagination.
The temptations to stay within its boundaries are immense.
A slight wind of displeasure sends me running back to the circle;
The circle where I have established a routine;
The routine that created my safe haven;
The safe haven of solitude and freedom.
But is it really freedom?
The fear I am avoiding;
The fear I am so afraid to face;
Can I ever be brave enough to withstand it again?
My circle has a shield;
A shield that is as strong as my fear.
I know I have to break it.
Maybe I can.
Maybe, someday.
Harvest of Mind
by Odin Roark
Acres of mirrors
Reflecting yesterdays upon today
Refracting wisdom’s tundra of experience
Into regret's abstract lessons.
How flexible
This mind of bendable energy,
Linking limbotic senses
Into a synaptic playground
Where one’s child-like recess plays perpetual.
Discovery beckons,
Hoeing brain’s porous marl
Bearing not the sweat of work,
Rather seedling’s preparation,
The cultivation of pain and sorrow’s rich compost,
The irrigation of past years’ yield,
That foundation of trial and error’s natural reward.
As each day's light finds horizon’s solace,
We slumber into mind’s picturesque growth,
Participating in collage-dreams,
Challenging synaptic connections
Smiling or crying,
Winning or losing,
We either concede as spectator
Or become a player,
A harvester of continuance,
The perpetuation of cognition’s daily bread.
Yes
‘Tis wondrous property we carry about.
Respected, it thrives.
Neglected, it weeds.
Rejected…
But a fossil-in-the-making.
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