I can’t recall and I cannot find that beautiful drawing of the tree with all the roots. If you had it can you pass it to me again. It was so beautiful and I want to try some of the techniques.
Thank you ahead of time!
I can’t recall and I cannot find that beautiful drawing of the tree with all the roots. If you had it can you pass it to me again. It was so beautiful and I want to try some of the techniques.
Thank you ahead of time!
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/09/07/wordle-205-2/
Addiction
Lull
Clue
Swagger
Carve
Vituperate- to use or address with harsh or abusive language; revile.
Distance
Pinpoint
Pleasure
Honey
Playful
Ravel
I’m not really sure how it worked out but the words seemed to be in an order that worked for me.
It is a playful addictionÂ
One without time to lullÂ
Not given a clueÂ
Knowing nothing at all
Just look at his swaggerÂ
Watch her carve through the airÂ
It’s like she vituperatesÂ
Without any care
The distance they travelÂ
Unable to pinpoint a stopÂ
Gives them pure pleasure Â
When they just want to drop
The honey they findÂ
Is only playful, kind wordsÂ
They unravel their loveÂ
Like the nest of a birdÂ
©2020 CBialczak Poetry
For Michael: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/09/10/tale-weaver-292-clean-up-10th-september/
I’m taking a writing course “Writing for Children” and one of my assignments at the beginning was to write a 500-word descriptive piece about a childhood memory. I wrote about how my sister and I used to explore through my grandma’s woods and find old trash piles. This photo reminded me of it. Here is an excerpt…
. . . The trail wound down the small forested hill showing which direction we needed to go. In some places the trail became a few inches wider, but most of the time we had only enough room for one foot. We clambered on, one foot in front of the other and followed the path down until it disappeared around a corner of dirt and stone. We crept to the edge of the path’s end before it turned and led in a new direction. Here, we stopped in our tracks. As we turned, our eyes seemed to arrive before our minds as we looked down at the treasure trove of garbage, with its mountain of old appliances hovering over endless treasures and special finds. To some, this was a dumping area, but to my sister and me it was a land to explore and maybe find a valuable someone accidentally left behind. Â
©2020 CBialczak
For The Daily Spur: https://thedailyspur.wordpress.com/2020/09/10/no-diggity/
This song came out in 1996.
This is the kind of “rap” I used to listen to.
Not really knowing the lyrics, I looked them up and found the BEST line ever! https://genius.com/Blackstreet-no-diggity-lyrics
Well, now I have shown a little side that loves the music from the 90’s.
©CBialczak
For: https://fivedotoh.com/2020/09/10/fowc-with-fandango-obnoxious/
Since I am on a One-Word Poem kick, here goes….
Well, first let me “thank” Fandango for such an obnoxiously difficult word!
This poem makes nearly no sense at all, but given the limited words and letters it is all I could come up with!
I don’t want to be a snob Â
my boss is so obnoxious Â
He wants me to cry and sob Â
When he tells me “take a bus” Â
Â
I know that very soon Â
I will see in the sun Â
The heat’s a helpful boon Â
I learned that from my son. Â
Â
So get out of that box Â
And hold the little nub Â
Of horn right on that ox Â
Instead of reins, this sub.Â
©2020 CBialczak Poetry
I love anything miniature!
I love building my miniature houses
I love little things…
I made this for my father. He has dementia but can remember back in the day when he had a huge garden, with all the different vegetables.
Do you have someone who loves growing vegetables, wants their own veggie stand, or would rather move fake veggies around than real ones?….let me know….
I would love to make veggie miniatures.
Written for https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2020/09/10/rdp-thursday-bristle/
Is the bristle of a porcupineÂ
like the thorns on roseÂ
like the spines of a cactusÂ
like the tip of a fishhookÂ
like the blades on a hacksawÂ
like the stinger of a bee?Â
©2020 CBialczak Poetry