Dragonfly's Poetry & Prolixity
Dragonfly: Any of various large insects of the order Odonata or suborder Anisoptera, having a long slender body and two pairs of narrow, net-veined wings that are usually held outstretched while the insect is at rest. Also called regionally darner, darning needle, mosquito fly, mosquito hawk, needle, skeeter hawk.
Poetry: The art or work of a poet.
Prolixity: Excessive wordiness in speech or writing; longwindedness
Thursday, August 4, 2022
Untreated Chronic Pain Is Terrifyingly Agonizing
Sunday, July 31, 2022
A Bit of Kitties & Buddhist Wisdom - Chop Wood/Carry Water
~ Buddha
Wednesday, July 20, 2022
I Hear the Call of the Night Bird… Longing…
Birdsong brings relief
to my longing
I'm just as ecstatic as they are,
but with nothing to say!
Please universal soul, practice
some song or something through me.
Thursday, July 7, 2022
This Poem Has Gotten Over 70,000 Views on My Blog
Monet Refuses The Operation
by Lisel Mueller
Doctor, you say there are no haloes
around the streetlights in Paris
and what I see is an aberration
caused by old age, an affliction
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels,
to soften and blur and finally banish
the edges you regret I don't see,
to learn that the line I called the horizon
does not exist and sky and water,
so long apart, are the same state of being.
Fifty-four years before I could see
Rouen cathedral is built
of parallel shafts of sun,
and now you want to restore
my youthful errors: fixed
notions of top and bottom,
the illusion of three-dimensional space,
wisteria separate
from the bridge it covers.
What can I say to convince you
the Houses of Parliament dissolves
night after night to become
the fluid dream of the Thames?
I will not return to a universe
of objects that don't know each other,
as if islands were not the lost children
of one great continent. The world
is flux, and light becomes what it touches,
becomes water, lilies on water,
above and below water,
becomes lilac and mauve and yellow
and white and cerulean lamps,
small fists passing sunlight
so quickly to one another
that it would take long, streaming hair
inside my brush to catch it.
To paint the speed of light!
Our weighted shapes, these verticals,
burn to mix with air
and change our bones, skin, clothes
to gases. Doctor,
if only you could see
how heaven pulls earth into its arms
and how infinitely the heart expands
to claim this world,
Saturday, July 2, 2022
Freedom Isn’t Free - God Save America
We the people are the rightful masters of both Congress and the courts, not to overthrow the Constitution but to overthrow the men who pervert the Constitution. ~Abraham Lincoln
πΊπΈπΊπΈπΊπΈπΊπΈπΊπΈπΊπΈπΊπΈπΊπΈπΊπΈπΊπΈπΊπΈπΊπΈ
πΊπΈ A pack of jackasses led by a lion is superior to a pack of lions led by a jackass. ~George Washington
πΊπΈ The last official act of any government is to loot the treasury. ~George Washington
It is impossible to govern the world without God. It is the duty of all nations to acknowledge the Providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits and humbly implore his protection and favor. ~George Washington
✝️πΊπΈ✝️πΊπΈ✝️πΊπΈ✝️πΊπΈ✝️
Wednesday, June 29, 2022
M O O D
Some days you just find a perfectly perfect song to describe your mood. This is dedicated to the 4 surgeons/doctors who ruined my body & health. I only wish they could hear it up close & personal. ☠️
Poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore And I'm young and I'm strong But I feel old and tired Over fired And I've been poked and stoked It's all smoke, there's no more fire Only desire For you, whoever you are For you, whoever you are You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home With the fucking phone And the mother of gloom In your bedroom Standing over your head With her hand in your head With her hand in your head I will not pretend I will not put on a smile I will not say I'm all right for you When all I wanted was to be good To do everything in truth To do everything in truth Oh I wish I wish I wish I was born a man So I could learn how to stand up for myself Like those guys with guitars I've been watching in bars Who've been stamping their feet to a different beat To a different beat To a different beat I will not pretend I will not put on a smile I will not say I'm all right for you When all I wanted was to be good To do everything in truth To do everything in truth You bloody mother fucking asshole Oh you bloody mother fucking asshole Oh you bloody mother fucking asshole I will not pretend I will not put on a smile I will not say I'm all right for you For you, whoever you are
Wednesday, June 22, 2022
Painters by Jewel
Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch
Watching the clouds roll byThey remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago,
When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait
A thousand times, or maybe just his smile,
Her and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world
Oil streaked daisies covered the living room walls
He put water colored roses in her hair
He said, "Love, I love you,
I want to give you the mountains, the sunshine,
The sunset too
I want to give you a world as beautiful as you are to me"
'Cause I'm a painter and I want to paint you
A lovely way
So they sat down and made a drawing of their love,
They made it an art to live by
They painted every passion, every home, created every beautiful child
In the winter they were weavers of warmth,
In the summer they were carpenters of love
They thought blue prints were too sad so they made them yellow
And they were painters and they had painted themselves
A lovely world
Until one day the rain fell as thick as black oil
And in her heart she knew something was wrong
She went running through the orchard screaming,
"No God, don't take him from me!"
But by the time she got there, she feared he already had gone
She got to where he lay, water colored roses in his hands for her
She threw them down screaming, "Damn you man, don't leave me
With nothing left behind but these cold paintings, these cold portraits
To remind me!"
He said, "Love I only leave a little, try to understand
I put my soul in this life we've created with these four hands
Love, I leave, but only a little, this world holds me still
My body may die now, but these paintings are real"
La li lai la li lai la li lai
So many seasons came and many seasons went
And many times she saw her love's face watering the flowers,
Talking to the trees and singing to his children,
And when the wind blew, she knew he was listening,
And how he seemed to laugh along, and how he seemed to hold her
When she was crying
'Cause they were painters and they had painted themselves
A lovely world
Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch
Watching the clouds roll by
They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago,
When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait
A thousand times, or maybe just his smile,
Her and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
Yes, she and her canvas still follow
'Cause they are painters and they are painting themselves
A lovely
'Cause they are painters and they are painting themselves
A lovely world