Author’s Note: We have a large number of Black Vultures here in Florida, for which I, personally am thankful. They are specially designed and equiped to deal with death, thus removing it from our hands. They get a bad rap from most; I consider them essential. In that light, they are highly symbolic. ~Jilly
Every year on the 14th of February, Dad would buy a large heart-shaped box of assorted chocolate candy for Mom. He would also buy a smaller version each for my brother and me. I remember how Mom would use her thumb to find the vanilla crèmes and rule out the chewy caramels, rendering her box unappealing to everyone else. Clever woman!
Like April, poets undertake the challenge of November to be writing daily. For the most part, I do write daily throughout the year, but intentionality is an energizing delight. There are multiple places for a poet to find inspiration and a few extra ones during this coming month and I intend to press a thumb into the various sources to find the dark chocolate mocha (my personal favorite) of inspiration and then write and post here at Jilly’s. Here is a list of some of the places I will be sampling. I hope you will all find your favorites and celebrate the deliciousness of poetry in November!
Jilly’s November Challenge of Casting Bricks to Attract Jade (Posting on Friday, 11/3) A perma-link will be on my sidebar, as usual. Everyone is welcome!
Jane Dougherty meets W.B. Yeats with daily quotes from her favorite poet.
In response to the Flash Fiction Challenge presented by Jane & Jeren, a short folk tale about left-behind wings.
The heavy-breasted mammatus clouds drifted over suburbia, sagging low in their nurturing way, all grey and worrisome, but the people were so glad the hateful storm had passed that no one noticed the seeds dropping; Dandelion Yellows, Pinkist Clover, Purple-Spike Thistle, cast over the carefully manicured lawns. No one noticed, at least until the next morning when the weeds began to spring forth with all the joy and vigor infused in their happy little petals by the sensuousness of the sky the night before. Squinting in the first glaring light of morning, Mandevilla backed out of her garage and a mask of sour-milk face leapt instinctively from the center of her brunette head. They must go, those invasive weeds! Just one more thing on her Eradicate-This! list for the day. She slammed her sunglasses on her face and machine-gunned the red SUV toward the highway. A giggle slipped from the garage in the corner where windshield washer fluid, weed killer and bleach stood in neatly aligned bottles. Bougainvillea stood still in the ceramic pot along the sidewalk, witness to it all. As the sun rose higher a breeze came too and she willed her dainty petals of melon softness to fall and blow, like summer drifting snow, across the drive and into the grass. Oh, the tales of woe they told to the Dandelion Yellows, who sprang forth in white seeds of indignation, whispering in song to the Pinkist Clover who shared the sad news with the Purple-Spike Thistle. Each joined in the singing with Bougainvillea’s blossoms, propagating seeds, crying out to the mother mammatus, now blown far away, sweet tears shed for a life-time as they swirled and twirled in the breath of the afternoon. The wings on which they had flown the night before left behind to scatter their progeny across those perfected lawns.
I do love a good challenge! Jane Dougherty tossed this one out there and I couldn’t resist.
Across the room from you (my favorite view)
Mom’s chair (she never did understand my poetry; not enough flowers and sunshine in those words.)
Refurbished Dell (necessary evil with stickers from the vegetarian tea place and Trader Joe’s)
The pen you gave me for Christmas two years ago (because writers understand each other)
Notebook (with ‘Jilly’ and doodled vines on the back cover)
Several Unreasonable poems and drafts
and 1 Haiku written by you (it was a joke; so like you to make me laugh)
These are the Remains of the Day
along with the obligatory cup of coffee (in that sunshine and flowers cup)