To Quit–or Not to Quit

Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things, by Jenny Lawson, gifted to me by HL Contreras, also an author.

Because quitting might be easier, but it won’t be better.”

 

It won’t be better, I tell myself again,

as I pour the diet dressing—and ignore the ice cream cake.

It might be easier, I remind myself,

pedaling past the point of sweat—for another 2 minutes.

Nothing will taste as good as healthy feels.

Nothing will feel as good as buying smaller clothes.

 

It won’t be better, my inner voice chides,

As I edit one more time—and kill off ‘my darlings’.

It might be easier, I remind myself,

Finding just the right word—and birthing a line that says more with less.

Nothing will read as good as well-written.

Nothing will feel as good as well-read.

 

It won’t be better, wanting to quit,

As I keep weeding the flower bed—making room for new roots.

It might be easier, but…

ignoring the lawnmonster—leaving the meadow for the pollinators.

Nothing will bloom without nurturing.

Nothing is nurtured without effort.

 

Listen to the whispers.

Better is better.

Quitting is not easier.

Tail of the Dog

Cujo Fido Hamilton, III

Walked up to my door and left a turd.

He peed all over my porch rail,

Looked straight at me and wagged his tail.

He bit my cat. He trashed my car.

He and his dog have gone too far!

Smug old bugger, both, they be;

But they won’t get the better of me!

I’ll taint their kibble with a bit of Ex-lax,

Then watch them run while I relax.

 

*A rework from a piece a few years back. Still not happy with it, but it is meant to be fun…maybe as a greeting card attached to home-made ‘chocolate chip’ cookies?

Taken

Who told you that you could use

My image anyway you choose?

 

And likewise, Pix of them I take,

Will find they live a pseudo-fate.

 

For ‘taken’ they are

And ‘taken’ shall be;

Their image, yes,

Belongs to me!

And God Made Beans!

In my caffeine-powered,

auto-pilot

paean,

Sweetened by those

sugar-roasted

beans

 

Live forever,

Hail thee, Bean immortal!

 

Baptized Muse

encaffeinated

glow,

a mighty rush

mid-macchiato

flow.

Chocolate-melt endorphin spike.

Decaffeinated? Take a hike!

 

Live forever,

Hail thee, Bean immortal!

 

A song of triumph,

Solemn chant,

A cacao-crusted,

Mocha rant,

Monster-java,

Never scant.

 

Never changes; It just can’t!

 

Hail thee, Hail thee,

Brew and Bar

Hail thee, hail thee,

Near and far!

 

Roast thee forever!

Bean immortal!

When the Thing is Done

When the end justifies the means,

When all things known are not all things seen,

 

Enthusiasm wanes

Adrenaline drains,

Where did anticipation go?

 

Unanswered, lies, what is between,

that colossal start

 

and failure,

 

finite.

 

but, here at end,

worn, emptied,

spilled

 

an infinitesimal twinkle,

a spark of truth

asserts itself

above expectations–

 

Was all for naught?

Stirring the embers of what might yet be

 

–and lights tomorrow’s hope.

H24: The Gifting

The 24th prompt: quite a gift, I would say,

As I sit here awaiting it given away.

Though, like Christmas I’m certain, that no sooner done,

I’ll be sad that it’s over and plan the next one.

Like some Christmas thingie, with twenty-four treats,

That mark time til the next time, and won’t let you eat

Whatever, whenever, in one gluttonous gulp–

But give the treats metered (so you don’t throw up).

And here I sit, sugar-plums wedged in my head,

to get it all finished, and just go to bed!

H23: Gubbles

The hippo snugged beside me snores,

And blows billowy bubbles I’ve learned to ignore.

Big blasted pink ones that pop when she snuffles,

That gum up the linens and goo up the ruffles.

And once, even gobbed up the ceiling fan blades,

With bubble gum gobbled in gum bubble shades.

But mostly, the troubles are easy as clover–

Except when she sneezes her bubbles all over!

H21: Sing the Whisper

I can hear a bird outside, singing in the dark. Coaxing the sun. It is lovely.

This is my first full marathon

since chemo came and went last year–

and I’m not certain I can go much further.

I have sung 20 songs,

and I don’t have much left.

Yet, I really want the song after all songs…

that one whose words say I did it.