Wordle #290

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.

Join in here: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2022/10/03/wordle-290/
autumn season second spring when every leaf flower maple fall crisp apple/s

Welcome Autumn

Autumn is a time to play
in leaves so crisp and cool
spring is off in the distance
when kids do work in school
The first flower to show its bud
might be the lovely mum
The second gift from mother earth
are apples, so yum yum
Maple trees have given us
its sweet and sticky sap
A season for every family
and sit in pappa’s lap
Sun is setting early now
and kids get tucked in tight
For many of the holidays
during fall occur at night.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie’, ‘Saturday Mix’

Check it out here https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2022/08/13/lucky-dip-saturday-mix-13-august-2022/

Today we are to write a Septolet: The Septolet is a poem consisting of seven lines containing fourteen words with a break in between the two parts. Both parts deal with the same thought and create a picture.http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/septolet.html

Art

Art
Creative thought
Molded with mind
and hands

Creations
emerge
from the depths
within.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

Sunday Confessionals : Generationally Environmental

Oloriel is the host of this share-yourself type of challenge. Check it out here: https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/4180167138

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.

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

Thinking of Me: Compilation 08/01/2022

I remember the day that I made my pledge
with a smile on my face, all my words had an edge
No major life changes, abundant success
No longer a kid, I greedily confess
For they have a slight trace of disturbed verity
A high on their horse most boisterously
But for me in my world a forest full of delight
only minor complications, no hate and no spite
My oration half over, like caramel in milk
Sinking and swirling cream covered silk
A sweet wintergreen with a flat outer shell
All things I think of, but I never tell
Instead I say things that sound masterly
My confidence rippled like a stone thrown to sea. 

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2022/08/01/wordle-281/

https://fivedotoh.com/2022/08/01/fowc-with-fandango-abundant/

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2022/08/01/three-things-challenge-m42/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2022/08/01/oration/

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2022/08/01/rdp-monday-caramel/

https://thedailyspur.wordpress.com/2022/07/31/think/

Pity Party: Compilation 07/18/2022

Is it so archaic that I’m the one to blame?
Parking
in the basement, basically in shame
Of my bargain lunch box that holds a shriveled bun
And in that bun a hot dog, a holiday undone
Its like a queen’s old bishop in a game of chess
You may call this fiction, a myth no more or less
But here I am a witness to unlikely coping skills
A candidate not winning, a shelf with no more pills.
It curbs my enthusiasm and makes my poor head ache
To live my life on this scale, I wish I had a break.
So now I sit and eat here, wanting no one else to see
That all this really is now is a pity show for me. 

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

Dinner with Friends: Compilation 5/17/22

Dinner with Friends

I was having a dinner
when a few of my friends,
the closest ones here,
when noise softly begins
I suddenly realized
that
the noise was from me
I was enthusiastic
As they all could see
I looked up at the trees
with the shape of a fan
pulchritude clearly
exciting sight for a man
The orangey sky
glowed a deep, murky hue
in my behavioral coma
I thought just what to do
I crossed the small yard
and leaned on the gate
a square metal lock
hanging from a small plate
I yanked at the lock
but it was fixed up real tight
so I bid them farewell
and said to all them, “goodnight”

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

The Jerk: Sunday Compilation 05/15/2022

He was active, unkind and sort of a jerk
unhappy in life, for nothing he’d done
Acting deftly a prig but really below
with a derelict attitude of everyone
He’d rip you to pieces and shout out in joy
while jotting long notes in his book
With a thunderous whoop and low greasy laugh
pouring out poison each time his hand shook
Bounding out of his house and way down the street
Grabbing things that were not of his own
Like a big nasty dog with brown gnarly teeth
being teased from a huge juicy bone.
When his life had become a big sloppy mess
He asked his friends what was the root
They came all undone and laughed right out loud
Giving their friend a quick and a hard boot.
He cried out in pain and tried to run fast
toward a pier from this maddening crowd
But he didn’t know that his past had come back
And they weren’t afraid to shout at him loud.
They said, “You’re a jerk! You’re not very nice
and we’re tired of all your bad crap.”
He looked at the group with awe in his eyes
Be he was smart to keep shut his big flap.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

You make yourself: Compilation 5/11/2022

Tauten your tie
put on your vest
No being furtive
just be your best
Creativity abounds
a human response
like bread needing yeast
never kneaded enough
The whole of your being
like dough in your hand
you sculpt yourself perfect
to be such a man.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry