OCTOBER!
Can you believe? Here we are in October. And it seems like only yesterday ... maybe the day before ... that it was still September. How time flies, though, when you travel tourist class, like I do.
One of the reasons, I suppose, is that it has just been party, party ...
Most recently it was a birthday party for LAUREL, Ohio, who enjoys poetry, relishes sharing it with others ... has a great gift for memorizing and delivering poems ... and regularly opens her home to a small group of poetry lovers.
Phyllis and I have been privileged to sit in with the group ... and, despite my tendency to share mostly stuff I’ve written myself, we’ve been invited back. And we’ve gone.
But back to the birthday party.
It featured some poems written to honor Laurel on her ... well, on her birthday (and I’m not going to say which one it was).
Among other items, it featured cupcakes ... and one ... count it, ONE ... candle, which she extinguished with dispatch, after giving a bit of thought to the requisite wish.
And then we dived in.
Even I was allowed to indulge, after a fashion. As some of you may know, I was formerly known as The Cake Man. Formerly, that is, because my doctor found out ... based on some tests I took without studying for them ... that sugars are not good for me ... therefore, all my favorite foods were transferred to the DO NOT EAT list.
Ah, but I did get to have one cupcake, the body of which had no sugar in it. Sadly, though, I had to chop off the icing (formerly akin to a capital offense, as far as I was concerned) ... and then I could gulp down the goodie.
Some weeks prior to this festive occasion at Laurel’s, I had celebrated my own birthday ... and I’m not saying which one that was, either. If you’ve lost count, you’ll just have to ask around, but don’t ask me.
Anyway ... on the occasion of my own birthday, I was presented, not just a cupcake, but a whole cake (Ok, so it wasn’t ALL just for me).
The big news was that this particular cake was made by our grandson, Thomas, who had arrived with his parents to help me celebrate. He had a little advice, yes, and his Mom gave him a helping hand at one point, but the production ... and it was a beauty ... was basically all his.
AND IT WAS ALL SUGAR-FREE!
Delicious, too. We still have a few slices left, carefully wrapped and frozen ... and I had a nibble just before I sat down to write this. I’m still (pardon me) drooling. In fact, I might just sneak back down to the fridge tonight and ... mmm, see how many pieces are left.
-S&G-
THIS JUST IN ... from HELEN, Florida ... Subject: A Paraprosdokian
“A paraprosdokian is a figure of speech in which the latter part of a sentence or phrase is surprising or unexpected in a way that causes the reader or listener to re-frame or reinterpret the first part.”
For example:
To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target.
Or:
A bus is a vehicle that runs twice as fast when you are after it as when you are in it.
Or:
Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.
-S&G-
Courtesy of WALT, Ohio ... "The statistics on sanity is that one out of every four persons is suffering from some sort of mental illness. Think of your three best friends - If they’re okay, then it’s you."
-S&G-
TODAY’S QUOTE: “We could certainly slow the aging process down if it had to work its way through Congress.” - Will Rogers (courtesy of WALT, Ohio)
-S&G-
TODAY’S POEM ... Okay, maybe I'm rushing the season a bit ... or maybe I'm late ... or maybe I'm a bit confused (so what else is new?) ... I seem to be bumping into a lot of pumpkins these days ... but I'm also seeing what I would consider Christmas items on display in some of the stores.
We are approaching Halloween, aren't we?
One of these years, I suppose, all of the designated commercial holidays will be combined into one giant celebration ... taking up a whole week ... or maybe a whole month ... or how about the entire year?
Be that as it may ... this poem, based on an early frightening experience, is further evidence of why I write very few rhyming poems – and perhaps shouldn't attempt any.
I keep telling friends and fellow writers that I find it very difficult to advance the story line while maintaining even a semblance of meter and rhyme. It's true. So true.
To borrow a phrase, it's hard work. Really hard work.
But, with much labor in this instance, the dirty deed was done. The poem was sent out to mingle with strangers, found a friend at one magazine, and was published.
The poem:
GRANDPA WILL GETCHA
It was a dark Halloween night
With nary a goblin in sight,
No place to go, nothin' to do.
Where to turn, I hadn't a clue.
But wait! My brain just clicked on:
SOAP A FEW WINDOWS flicked on,
And quickly it was bar to pane,
Making abstract strokes, in the main.
Then, looking in, what did I see?
My Grandpa, looking out at me.
No little smile did he bestow
As he swiftly took me in tow.
So with a pail and a wet sponge
My fine art I had to expunge
Till the windows were far cleaner
Than they had been. My demeanor?
Subdued now. A tad smarter, too:
Soaping our own was dumb, it's true,
And getting caught was SO SCARY
The next time I was more wary.
(originally published in Parnassus Literary Journal)
-S&G-
COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like.
Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to
rbrimm@peoplepc.com
... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)
-S&G-
If you’d like to see what’s up with my other, DAILY blog (no, this is not my “Home Page”), here’s a link to it:
http://rbrimm.blogspot.com/
Thanks for paying a visit.
-S&G-
UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!
-S&G-
© 2010
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