For Linda G. Hill’s SoCS, we are supposed to point at a random object around us and write about it. My eyes fell on my cup of açai tea. It was a new flavor to me and a good way to relax in the evening. It inspired this silly limerick.
For FOWC: Meme. Memes are my love language, so I was really excited that this was today’s word. I am looking forward to reading everyone else’s responses! I found this meme online this morning and wanted to share it. It’s both hilarious and legitimately inspiring at the same time.
Day 15 of JusJoJan is themed, “button.” All I could think about was the expression “cute as a button.” My mom used to make photo albums (she still does, usually on the computer, though), and I remember seeing a page from when I was 2 or 3 years old, and I was probably 8 or 9 at the time. On the page was a cutout of a pink button with that phrase next to it.
My very literal, 8-year-old brain was perplexed by that, so I asked my mom, “Why does it say, ‘Cute as a button? Buttons aren’t cute.”
“It’s an expression,” she tried to explain.
Undeterred, I insisted, “But why?????“
I don’t remember how that situation resolved, but my mom certainly had a lot of patience with little Jenna. She may have gotten annoyed at my persistent questions (asking the questions that really matter, hahaha), but at least I was cute. 🙂
This post basically turned into an SoCS-style post, due to the fact that writing a poem about buttons proved impossible for me today. 🙂
How many of us are filled to the brim,
Fatigued from fate’s capricious whims?
How many feel like their blood boils,
Are disappointed, despite their toils?
A cold glass of water, with crushed ice,
Then a generous glass of wine, would be nice.
Maybe instead of only saying “Cheese,”
We can eat some with delicacies.
I cannot remember all the scattered pieces,
Each and every fragment of fiber woven,
Twisted, made into this locked and loaded
Container held harrowingly in the hand of some
Demonic monster carrying 300 million people.
Where are we going and why are we in this handbasket?
One of the most common Christmas traditions might be writing letters to Santa. I know that my brothers and I did it every year, and
our parents Santa Claus would even write replies to us and tell us that the cookies we left out for him were delicious. The letter to Santa that I wrote yesterday and am sharing today is definitely not traditional, and I decided to write it as a cherita.
Linda gave us quite an interesting (dare I say…eggciting sorry not sorry) prompt for this week’s paint-chip poetry:
Fried eggs over-easy:
Yolks like a puddle
Color of sun rays
Or even a tangerine —
Dream of this breakfast
Outside, under vintage-
No, this type I despise!
Author’s note: I don’t like it when the yolks are really runny. Also, I just realized that this is the second time I have written about eggs for this paint-chip poetry prompt. That’s odd.
Some people like to-do lists. Not me. I find the onus of having several tasks to do enough, thank you! Making a to-do list simply adds one more task to the list in my head (which sometimes feels a mile long, but thankfully I have a decent memory, so I usually don’t forget about anything that needs to be done). Well, I might forget, but if that happens, then I remember again soon enough, before it gets to be too late.
This is for DVerse Poetics. I was going to write something else to post, but the ideas are not coming, so here’s one that I wrote yesterday. We are responding to titles that Sarah provided for us. I responded to the one that is the title of this post. The form is like a cherita, but in reverse.
Grandma taught me how to bake sugar cookies.
Grandpa taught me that once you turn 80
No one can tell you you can’t eat ice cream nightly.
They taught me family history from past centuries,
And how not to freeze in the snow, a foreign thing
To these California sensibilities — gone crazy.