Never-Ending Game

Memories - digital art by Wild Thing

It’s the 16th inning
We’ve stretched twice
Bears arrive late
As though it’s
Just begun

Mrs O’Leary’s Cow
Sips “tea” delicately
In her beautiful
Rose chintz china
With a goat
Named Murphy

They give
Color commentary
Their finest brogue
A bit slurred
And funny too

(Sure an’
They’re on
Their 4th “teapot”
Ye know)

Sailor Jack
His dog Bingo
Sell candied
Popcorn and peanuts
To sleepy children

Fans still cheer
As if we’re
Just starting
While #14
Yells from
Right foul pole
“Let’s play two!”

On the field
43 k’s so far
And counting
Bats and records
Starting to break

Leo “The Lip”
Argues with Joe
Behind the plate
Kicks dirt then
Storms away

Players left stranded
Like wallflowers
The Babe claps
Organ music plays us
Into the 17th inning

As Jack Brickhouse
Pours more “tea”
Into rose chintz cups

Wild Thing @May8, 2017

The Cletis Shoppe

. . . dawn in her eyes
rose on blue
CL Stump

If you like the above poem by my friend Cletis L Stump, you can now
purchase it on T-shirts, tote bags, coffee mugs etc. in his new store,
The Cletis Shoppe!

There is something for everyone here. Baseball fans, dog lovers, fitness
and health, children, funny to whimsical to name just a few! All in
various colors and sizes!

Left leaning politics? That is also here on the various products he offers.
He even does personalized work as you will see when browsing through
his shoppe.

Take some time today to stroll through his online store! Just click on the
link below now and browse to your heart’s content.

The Cletis Shoppe

Save

We’re Okay

DSCN4296a

Widow’s Walk – photo by Wild Thing

Storm has past
Leaving a strange
Green light
Branches . . . twigs
Fallen to the ground

Distant rumble
Echoes back
As a taunt
Perhaps a threat
It could come back

Unknown paper
Straggles by
Unable to walk
A straight line
Dizzy from its ride

Homes dark
No light
Shines from within
Each looking
Like a death mask

People stand
Outside dazed
Taking stock
Clean up, repairs
Counting their blessings

Here, there
Cell phone
To the ear
“Yes, we’re ok,
It only stormed here.”

Wild Thing ©2016

Written for Prompt #51

Writing Rebelsm

No Regrets

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No Regrets – photo by Wild Thing

They say
The saddest words
Are “It might
Have been.”

What does
That bring but
Heartache and regret

It only makes
Returning
Harder to face

Why question Fate
And tempt
Her fickle temper

She could make
You regret asking
What might have been

Wild Thing ©2016

Written for Prompt #50
Writing Rebelsm

Prompt #49

prompt 49 Weird

I’m Ready for my Close-Up Mr. DeMille – photo by Wild Thing

As being chosen to go first to kick off the celebration of the one-year anniversary of “Writing Outside the Lines”, I just want to say a little bit.

When Annie suggested starting this, I gave her my full support. I thought it would be a great thing to do even though I felt that I was a horrible writer. I have to tell you, I was terrified to submit that first piece.

I found as I went along though, that I felt more at ease. As I relaxed, so did my writing. Slowly it got a little better. I know when one is good and when one is merely ok. I’m learning as I go and I’m okay with that.

None of this would have been possible, had I not had the constant support of Annie. Through it all, she was there, right beside me, not pushing, not once! But cheering me all the way! She has always encouraged me to stretch further than I thought I could.

Without that, I doubt I would be here today writing this. I would have given up ages ago. But because of the time Annie gave unselfishly to me, I am here today leading out with the first prompt!

So Happy One-Year Anniversary WOL! I raise my glass to my fellow Writing Rebels & say “Here’s to the next year! May we be as prolific as we were this first year! CHEERS!”

Now on to the prompt, as an Aquarian, I am a weirdo. So the above quote by Hunter S. Thompson has always been kind of like my motto.       Are you weird?     How so?     Do you have a motto?     What is it & why?     Or does the turtle inspire you?     She is quite gorgeous … smiling at you.     The name of the photo is: “I’m Ready For My Close Up Mr. DeMille”.     Her name is Yolanda and she was going to lay eggs.             Now I hope I’ve given you inspiration to write whatever moves you!           Aren’t you glad I don’t give prompts every week????

Wild Thing

It Begins In Me

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New Growth – photo by Wild Thing

They tell me
Nothing lasts forever
Not true I say
Love is eternal
It never dies 

Cynics laugh
Shake their head
Say I’m a fool 

Yes … There are lovers
Who drift away
Some who stay
For a lifetime … making
Both of you unhappy 

They point to
These examples
Snickering at me
While their rolling eyes
Thinking me naive 

They don’t know
I’ve learned the
Secret to real love
It begins … by loving me 

A gift to be given
Unconditionally

Wild Thing ©2016
Written for Writing Rebels
Prompt #45 
Writing Rebelsm

Forgive My Absence

Dear Readers & Followers ...

Forgive my absence ... 
Last week I lost a close friend in
a car accident 
the past week has been 
to say the least
a haze ... drifting though memories
I tried to write about it 
there were no words
still aren't
someday perhaps
words will come
if not ... that's ok too

Wild Thing ©2016

 

 

Be Different . . .

Horrible first day
No friends
Everyone
Made fun of her 

She came home
Went right upstairs 

Grandma waiting
Saw her
Tear stained face 

Mamma too busy
Making supper
Didn’t look up 

In her head
She heard Grandma
   “What’s the matter honey?” 

They always spoke
Telepathically
Mamma said it was rude 

“Nothing Grandma …”

   “Don’t you nothing me” 

“I’m sorry … “ 

   “Now tell me, what’s wrong.” 

“They made fun of me Grandma.” 

   “Why ever for?” 

“You know why … I’m different.” 

   “You don’t look different. 
    You look just like them!” 

“OH Grandma you know what I mean!” 

   “I certainly do not!” 

“They know what we are Grandma.” 

   “What we ARE? And what are we dear?”

“That we’re witches … “ 

   “Oh that, so what of it? 
    It’s not a bad thing.” 

“They called me awful names Grandma and 
 they spit on me.” 

Anger
Not at her
At them
Just as quickly
It was gone 

   “That’s their ignorance honey, their fear talking.
    You see, they just don’t understand how wonderful 
    you are … how gifted … one day they will. Then you 
    will see … they will come to you … asking you for 
    your help … when they can’t help themselves … 
    they will forget how they treated you today … 
    they will only remember that you are different … 
    that you can help them … it will be your 
    difference that will make you irreplaceable 
    to them.” 

“Grandma that’s so old fashioned.” 

   “Child, it may be old fashioned, but as Rhett 
    told Scarlett ‘that is the one unforgivable 
    sin in any society. Be different and be damned!’ 
    And we have always been different dear, BUT 
    we have never been damned. We have always been 
    blessed. Tomorrow will be a better day and the 
    day after that even better. By the end of two 
    weeks you’ll make a friend or two who won’t 
    care who you are. Just be who you are … 
    be yourself, your beautiful self my dear.
    Now wash your face and come down it’s time to 
    learn your other lessons … I believe it’s 
    herbs today isn’t it?” 

“Yes Grandma… I will, and it is herbs today.”

Wild Thing ©2016

Written for Writing Rebels
Prompt #42
Writing Rebelsm

Unplugged

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Time and Space – photo by Wild Thing

I decided to unplug
just for a day
to lose myself in thought
to rejuvenate
and reconnect
get grounded
then as an Aquarius 
often will do
another thought
came along then another
soon I was star riding
zooming the cosmos
the nerve endings 
firing rapid fast
then before I knew it
I had lost track
of time and place
then faintly
I heard echoes
voices
calling to me
and so I returned
to find
I'd been gone 
a week when I thought
it had only been 
a day

Wild Thing ©2016

For My Mother-By Guest Poet Cletis L Stump

For My Mother

In Perfect Light – photo by Wild Thing

*Another collaboration of Cletis L Stump's
poetry and one of my photos*

she wasn't weak
hell no
not by a long shot
strength flowed from
her hands
hands that pushed
death from the room
from the eyes
of a dying son

Cletis L Stump ©2016

See more of Cletis L Stump's
poetry at Late Night Footfalls