The Jewish Sugar-Glider: Compilation 08/07/2022

In a happy, little synagogue tucked up in the hills
there was a sugar-glider who mostly swam for thrills
He didn’t have the webbed feet like ducks and other birds
Soon he was just paddling no need for excess words.
He later went to Rabbi on a whim to seek a task
He wanted the whole testament, a bit afraid to ask
He knew he needed parchment to write down all the words
He understood it’s length was long, timing was absurd!
Nothing now could hinder him from learning his new faith
He didn’t seek approval so he waited ’til the eighth
For on this very special day the glider could perform
Surprising the old Rabbi as if swimming was the norm
He came to him quite slimy, his fur was feeling damp
But Rabbi said he loved the show, turning on his lamp.
What the Rabbi saw just then really made him blush
‘Cause Sugar-glider forgot his pants as he had tried to rush!

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

Sunday Confessionals : Generationally Environmental

Oloriel is the host of this share-yourself type of challenge. Check it out here:

This week, I would like to invite you to explore just these patterns; if it was up to me I would say focus on the cute, little ones in yourself, your kin and those around you that you generationally and environmentally inherited or passed on, but you can likewise touch up on those that frighten you or make you question things.

Just a brief overview of my family…

On my dad’s side: I never met my grandfather as he had already passed away before I was born. My dad never said much about him but implied he was a hard worker. My grandmother died when I was a young child and I can remember her a little but mostly her sitting in a wheelchair in a nursing home in Brooklyn, NY. My father had a wife and two daughters before he married my mother and had me, my sister and my little brother.

On my mom’s side: My mother passed away when I was 23. We were close and it was especially hard to get married and have two babies without her. I remember her so vividly, yet I can’t remember her at all. My grandfather passed away when I was little. I have one memory of him; we were sitting at a picnic table out in the yard. That’s is all I have. My grandmother passed away when I was maybe 10. I remember a lot more about her. I can picture her house and how it smelled. All the crap she had everywhere! I got that from her!

I inherited a lot from both of my parents and now that my father is in my care and more like a child (due to the dementia and Alzheimer’s) I am seeing things that we do the same and it is weird!
My mother was great at everything she did and I try to be like she was. When she made something, whether it was food, some sort of craft, or a Halloween Costume, it was perfect. Now, as you may know I craft daily. I also don’t cut corners and make sure all of my things are done correctly and nicely. I love to cook, also from my mom. I used to make my kids matching clothes when they were little, actually using my mom’s machine! She was a strong woman but loving. Everyone loved her and she was helpful to everyone no matter what. My mother worked with my father most of my younger life and then she worked as a teacher’s aide in elementary school up until she passed away. She was 50. She detested lying and sneaking around and had no tolerance for being nasty to one another. I am really like her in this way too.
My dad was a hard worker. He would tell stories about sticking gum on the end of a stick to get the coins out of gutters in Brooklyn as a kid. He also ran deliveries for shop owners to get money for movies and treats. He sold insurance (home, auto) and was a real estate broker. When my father wasn’t at the office he was either in the yard or in his favorite chair. He read the paper every day from front to back. He had a garden that is probably as big as the footprint of my present home (which is fairly small at only 1200+ square feet). He grew everything you can imagine and my sister and I would grab our wagon and pick vegetables so we could walk up and down the street selling them. He never said a word, but I can imagine he would have liked some of his own produce! I think I get my stamina from him, the get-up-early and work-until-dinner type of stamina.

What things I see now that my dad and I have almost exactly alike: 1. some of our physical issues – so now I wonder if he has psoriatic arthritis that never got diagnosed. 2. Our mannerisms when we are sitting and waiting for something or someone. Not fidgety but there is noticeable body language. 3. His sense of humor. 4. How he blows his nose (I wasn’t going to add it but it’s almost uncanny). 5. Problems swallowing – we both always feel like we have something in our throats.

Song Lyric Sunday

Jim is the host of Song Lyric Sunday! Check it out here and join in

This week the theme is to find songs about Pets, Names, or Memories suggested by Di of pensitivity101.

For this I couldn’t think of anything right away so I google “songs about pets” and found one of my old time favorite songs!


Well, I caught my wife with another man
And it cost me ninety-nine
On a prison farm in Georgia
Close to the Florida line
Well, I’ve been here for two long years
I finally made the warden my friend
And so he sentenced me to a life of ease
Takin’ care of Ol’ Red

Now, Ol’ Red, he’s the damnedest dog
That I’ve ever seen
Got a nose that can smell a two day trail
He’s a four legged trackin’ machine
You can consider yourself mighty lucky
To get past the gators and the quicksand beds
But all these years that I’ve been here
Ain’t nobody got past Red

And the warden sang
Come on somebody, why don’t you run?
Ol’ Red’s itchin’ to have a little fun
Get my lantern, get my gun
Red’ll have you treed ‘fore the mornin’ comes

Well, I paid off the guard and I slipped out a letter
To my cousin up in Tennessee
Oh, and he brought down a blue tick hound
She was pretty as she could be
Well, they penned her up in the swampland
‘Bout a mile just south of the gate
And I’d take Ol’ Red for his evening run
I’d just drop him off and wait

And the warden sang
Come on somebody, why don’t you run?
Ol’ Red’s itchin’ to have a little fun
Get my lantern, get my gun
Red’ll have you treed ‘fore the mornin’ comes

Now, Ol’ Red got real used to seein’
His lady every night
And so I kept him away for three or four days
And waited ’til the time got right
Well, I made my run with the evening sun
And I smiled when I heard ’em turn Red out
‘Cause I was headed north to Tennessee
And Ol’ Red was headed south

And the warden sang
Come on somebody, why don’t you run?
Ol’ Red’s itchin’ to have a little fun
Get my lantern, get my gun
Red’ll have you treed ‘fore the mornin’ comes

Now there’s red haired blue ticks all in the South
Love got me in here and love got me out

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Donald Clint Goodman / James E. Bohon / Mark Sherrill

Ol’ Red lyrics © Music Mill Entertainment, Zells Music Company

My Dreams: Compilation 08/06/2022

Atop our belvedere, I can view the lake below
home to many ducks blowing bubbles as they go
Behind my chair I hide the scene glued from long ago
A swatch of ugly wallpaper I never want to show
Each time I see the wall I catapult through space
wondering who the audience was who thought it was the case
that walls belonged to them, with horrid pictures of
trees and flowers, birds and nests, and all of the above.
So now I sit and ponder what life would be without
this ugly wall behind me, I get so mad I want to shout!
I want to make it pretty with some other sort of stain
And perhaps a silky painting in a circular-type frame
I just want to enjoy a touch downright and relaxed
and dream about tomorrow as I rest here on my ass.
I think I’m going to make a new tradition with the ducks
Just let me take your eggs and I’ll leave them other stuff
like bread and fruit from home or tiny little seeds
Anything they want and really anything they need.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

An Afternoon With Jeanine And Toby

Larry’s take on the prompt!


Toby and Jeanine were taking their daily walk in the local park.

‘That exhibit,’ she said, ‘always reminds me of the Dylan and Hendrix song that refers to the joker and the thief.’

‘Yes,’ he said. I have been looking into the Catholic intellectual world lately. I read an interesting article about poverty, chastity, and obedience….Marx’s, Freud’s, and Nietsche’s main targets. This always reminds me of where Nietsche has spread his poison around.’

They then walked farther on down the road, and got some tuna and lox at the local kosher stand.

The sun was shining so brightly that afternoon that people were joyously taking photographs of all the sights. The happy couple quietly did some window shopping while awaiting the arrival of the bus they were supposed to take after their long day.

‘I have really enjoyed our day,’ he said.

142 words.

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Simply Six Minutes

Sharyl’s take on the prompt…Poor Joe? Maybe not.

The Bag Lady


Some people told Joe he was crazy to work for old man Jones, but Joe ignored them. With no degrees or diplomas and a big family to support, Joe took whatever job he could find. No matter what Mr. Jones asked him to do, Joe did it.

Joe’s work ethic is rarely seen in these “me me me” days, but—a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do—was his attitude. Of course old man Jones knew this and took full advantage of Joe, watching him struggle with his bike full of bricks.


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Friday Fictioneers: Those Americans Again!

Rochelle is the host of Friday Fictioneers where we are asked to write a complete story in less than 100 words:

Those Americans! They don’t give a hoot about property, they only want to see what they want! 

For God’s sake, Fern, it isn’t that big of a deal. They didn’t park on anyone’s grass!

Not this time. But if someone would say something then maybe it wouldn’t be a problem. 

What are you going to do, really? Have a giant sign at the airport and border entries telling people to be respectful of our property? 

Well, yes, that would be a start!

Fern, no one is going to listen when they can get a clear image of that old castle. 

©2022 CBialczak Fiction

My Fantasy: Compilation 08/05/2022

I carved my name in water or so I told myself
purporting it’s my bijoux, fine findings of an elf
a triangle in shape so explicitly pronounced
Like a lesson from my mother my view’s what really counts
the recorder of my exploit is only my old phone
and if you don’t believe me, well sorry now it’s gone.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

Fibbing Friday

Di is the host of Fibbing Friday


1.  What is an abbozzo? a gluten free rice grain
2.  What does it mean to absquatulate? It means you can’t meet the standards of the shortest expectation presented
3.  What is a biggin? the opposite of a smallin
4.  What is a daedalist? a daydreamer
5.  What is gamophobia? fear of becoming addicted to video games
6.  What is a holm? a tiny home
7.  What is jettatura? air sickness including vomiting.
8.  What is a keffel? a kitchen utensil
9.  What is meant by labtebricole? Any kind of skin lesion that fits no other known symptoms when googled.
10. What is a lacuna? a small inlet of water

A Letter A Week – R: Farmer Brown

Your response needs to contain the letter of the week

Place – ranch

Emotion – regret

Adjective – ratty

Verb – raise

My animal – Rhino

In an old dirt barn on an old broke ranch
a rhino chewed an olive branch
The branch broke off and he’s upset
Killing trees causes him much regret
But in the zoo he’s safe and sound
Raised up off the muddy ground
In a ratty, broke, ramshackled shed
It looks like Farmer Brown is dead!

©2022 CBialczak