180 barrels
A trendy couple fled a tourist resort and left behind 180 barrels of human waste; one wonders how they could accumulate that much ; the pair fled to Guatemala, farms cocoa plants and lives on a diet of bananas. A woman called Meghan, makes it clear that she is also a Sussex, whatever that means, has a podcast, and tells us she is thrilled with her success interviewing other privileged women. We are pleased to read these inanities and think if the 180 barrels of crap have sprung a leakage
The local news is, a Ukrainian who fled when the Russian army came knocking on the door looks askance at me since my view is different from the other people in the building. He came to Portugal with two new and big Mercedes, enough said!
I paint with acrylics
Oils are more vibrant;
But I have no patience
For letting anything dry
Watercolor is uncontrollable;
This is too close to my own personality
I cannot fathom the enjoyment of watching the paint take over
Doing what it wants when it wants, like my dogs and children.
Using neon paints I paint dwarfs, faeries, pixies, dogs, cats
Mushroom houses, igloos, teepees, pirate ships
Pirate queens, sexy cartoon women, witches, and castles
Painting is my always-always-land
It was an accidental hobby, inspired by a nine-year-old granddaughter
I decided to ”waste”one canvas when she begged me to paint with her.
Sixteen hundred canvases later, I reach for my paints.
Some enjoyed stealing my joy, squelching my light
I let them because I was young, and I thought worthless
They made fun of my talents, calling me names
So, I hid them, thinking naysayers were smarter than I.
That’s a part of feeling worthless.
When I became a mother, things changed.
I was surrounded by tiny beings who loved me.
They were my orbits, and I was their sun.
I ventured out a bit, risking a slice or two of the real me.
Others did not make fun of me, they seemed to relate.
When I became a grandmother one of my new chicks changed me.
She begged me to use a canvas. I had bought them for her.
She was the talent; who was I?
She would not let up, so I decided to waste one.
My life changed with my first painting,
now confidence parades my truth.
The moment we are born…that precious moment when we wake…the hands of Fate take the hourglass filled with the sands of our life and give it a little shake.
And as we take our first breath…in a move time-tested and deft…Fate turns our hourglass over…revealing the amount of sand we have left.
Fate is the only one who knows the amount of sand our hourglass contains…We never get to see it…never have a chance to count how many grains remain…
Fate is the only one who knows how large our hourglass is…how wide…how far-reaching…how tall…Fate is the only one who knows if we are meant to live a long life…or if our hourglass is small.
I imagine our creators hoped, by not telling us the size of our hourglass, we would come to understand…how this life we’re given is to be cherished and not to waste one grain of sand.
I imagine they had hoped we would discover the key to what life is all about….
to live a peaceful,
kind
and loving life…
until our sand runs out.
I get up at three or four in the morning
Because I want to play a couple of hours before I leave for work
I love my job, but I love my play time more
I have many hobbies, so many choices
Some mornings I write poems, other mornings I paint on canvases.
I draw cartoons or I play scrabble-type word games
I love giving myself this "me time"
When I was a young mother I never had any me time.
When I was a teenager I didn't either.
I worked almost every second I was not in school
During my high school years, to get money for college
In highschool and college your time is planned by others
When you are a young parent, your time belongs to your children
My children are grown; my husband is self-sufficient
Now I can have me time which is why I wake up at three or four.
I do not want to waste one second of my "me time".
He knew their love was going to be short
But he asked her to marry him anyway
Because he did not want to waste one minute
of time they could be together
She hesitated because he was such a great guy,
and she thought he deserved a happily forever after,
but he was handsome, charming, persistent and the love of her life.
Their eyes met as she began the walk down the aisle, and they knew.
Their time together would be worth it no matter how short.
It lasted seven and a half months, the most wonderful time
of both of their lives.
From west-to-east they daubed the plains with dark
The groans of horns and hooves to shake the earth
All grass and grounds that thus did bear their mark
And naught would be their doom if meant for worth
Brave men with skin burned red did cull for strength
With skill and bows, though not to waste one piece
Yet they nor prey could know what would be wrought
By those with hides more white, and sacks to fleece
Those men from 'cross the sea killed with no cause
And all that filled their gaze was raped and marred
Not once through all the waste did they give pause
Nor stop to dress the wounds of what they'd scarred
Not long, to teach those beasts and men of red ...
The pall and price of greed, so cold ... and dead.
~ 7th Place ~ in the "Because It's A Tuesday 140 - 140 Sonnet Cash Prize" Poetry Contest, William Kekaula, Judge & Sponsor.
* Syllables = 10/line, 140 total, words = 140 total, counted at HowManySyllables.com. *
( "Tatonka" is the Native American word for buffalo or bison )
My hobby arrived accidentally
In the form of a request issued simply but emphatically
By my nine-year-old granddaughter.
Grandma, can you paint with me?
Was she crazy?
These canvases cost eight dollars apiece.
I was not worth that.
i was not worth that.
I was not worth that.
She would not let up
Kept begging.
I finally decided to "waste" one on myself.
I was juried into two art shows by the end of the month.
I am a dabbler, a scribbler, a player, not an artist!
How had this happened? I love neon paints. LOVE THEM!
My entire house is filled with nail holes, hidden by four hundred
Yes I did say four hundred neon-paintings
And they glow in the dark.
Because we have black lights
And they are so seventies
Just like I am
Best gift I ever gave myself
Allowing my granddaughter to talk me into
Wasting an eight dollar canvas on myself.
That was five years ago and I have never looked back.
Took off like a rocket, and feel completely fulfilled.
To balance the scales
Of energy
Of emotion
Of love
Of devotion
Of wonder
Of fun
86,400
Never waste one
Kale Brereton
August 13, 2018
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Where will I be?
I'm lost and I can't find my compass, you see
Also lost time, the sun's setting low
The day is at end, Oh where did it go?
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I fell today
Can't see where I'm landing, cause you're in the way
Will I land softly? How far will I fall?
Will the sun rise at the end of it all?
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Are you chasing today?
It's dark and scary since you slipped away
Time stands still between dark and light
I don't want to land 'til you come in sight
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, you came and you left
Your net did not catch me now all is a mess
I'll pick myself up, my direction unknown
Destiny uncertain, now that you've flown
Tomorrow, Tomorrow. Don't let me down
I'm depending on you, to bend up this frown
I'll find my compass, keep an eye on the time
Just roll a little slower, 'til I get things in line
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, really never comes
I won't waste one minute, watching the sun
Never put my problems on the back shelf
If tomorrow arrives, it will take care of itself.
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Why should I give a damn about you anymore?
Now that you've made it crystal clear you
Don’t love me no more, why should I care
Anything about you when you made me love
You and went and shattered my heart into
Why should I waste one single tear over you?
The hell with you...
Well I can tell myself all these things sitting
Here all alone, trying to be strong but knowing
You’re in someone else’s arms tonight, I feel
All but done with life now that we are over and
Done, I really thought this time you were the one
And I should hate me for loving you and I shouldn't
Give a damn about you, BUT I DO...
So call me a fool 'cuz it's true I still love you
Maybe you never loved me but then again no
One else has ever loved me more before, in the
Back of my mind I keep thinking you'll come back
One more time and all will be well with the world
Once again but unfortunately I know deep down
The dream of years has come to its end so...
Why should I give a damn about you anymore now?
That you've made it crystal clear you don't love me
No more, I should hate me for loving you and I
Know shouldn't give a shed one single tear over
You, I know I shouldn't BUT I DO!
Any one for the 8-10 to Allepo
His suicide lorry packed to the gunnels there hoisted on his own petard
another loved up modern muslim the stupid silly selfish silly bastard
What a waste one man in his white gown going to his death
a lot of passengers waiting there also wanting a last breath
Buses much better eighty eight in a bus pack em in it is for the best
welcomed sitting each one with there black comforting a suicide vest
Queues forming what sweating work here sheep queuing like mutton
taking people to heaven is hard work so careful mind the red button
Meeting death going to their beloved god and dreaming
me I cant stop laughing look my eyes they are streaming
In life there is always a way to make things better
It might not seem great now
But there are ups and downs
Lift your chin up
Show the world your smile
Show everybody that you can make it
You won’t be lost now
Not to this
Sad times are right now
But in the morning
There will be sun
Smiling down on you
It will show you that everything gets better
You just have to get through
This one moment in life
And remember
People are there for you
Don’t waste one moment of your life
Sitting and complaining
Smile your biggest smile
Remember there are 525,600 minutes in a year
You don’t have that long left
Smile. Forget. Move on.
You can do it.
It's my loneliest day, I seek you out and finally find you.
I see you near reaching out with open arms I don't hold back.
This time I do not want to waste one ounce of your time.
The crying of the souls haunt me, I wipe their tears from me.
I find I own nothing, only the souls that are precious wandering.
Try to hear them, their cries of pain, sorrow, heartache and loss.
The cries make it impossible for me to ever be the same again.
All these years I have not forgotten their cries, of painful pasts.
To love them is more than I can and I am but I give them all of it.
I hope they have become a bright shinning star lighting the skies.
Maybe they will shine down on me, forgiving the one which is me.
Dedicated To All Abused Children Alive and Dead.
Positively, every day we lay to waste one more chance.
Though the sun doth rise and meet us in yellow gold.
Will your great revival begin today? Only by happenstance?
By all great men, in awe, we've be moved to muse and trance.
When the musician's fingers flitter, to make our souls seem whole.
Positively, every day we lay to waste one more chance.
And as the boats stay moored, afloat of our chance,
over a wanting light on black screams, a shadow folds.
Will your great revival begin today? Only by happenstance?
They cry, they all cry! A guff, their ***** parlance.
A beckoning light so bright as to seem to take hold.
Positively, every day we lay to waste one more chance.
The athlete, his body strong against the crushing weight, his defiance.
Thou vile villain, thou interrupting season of cold.
Will your great revival begin today? Only by happenstance?
To want for is not to waste, to keep held high the the chin and dance.
And yet as I lie, the shadows creep and their time still known.
Positively, every day we lay to waste one more chance.
Will your great revival begin today? Only by happenstance?
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