Posted in Words 'n' such Poetry

Poetry Form: Quatern| d’Verse- Manhood Inherited

A Quatern is a sixteen line French form composed of four quatrains. It is similar to the Kyrielle and the Retourne. It has a refrain that is in a different place in each quatrain. The first line of stanza one is the second line of stanza two, third line of stanza three, and fourth line of stanza four.

Manhood belongs not to the meek.
All honor is won at a cost.
A reticent life unworthy.
All you value easily lost.

I was once unsure just like you.
Manhood belongs not to the meek.
So, stand tall when facing this world.
Cowards never find what they seek.

My hands are broken, my back is bent,
And my job is most nearly done.
Manhood belongs not to the meek.
Time to fight your battles, my son.

Those gentle eyes and chiseled chin,
Are signs that you’ll reach your own peak.
Kind men guard the common ‘good’, ‘Cuz,
Manhood belongs not to the meek.

Posted in Writing Prompts

Unicorn Challenge 5/26/23- A Woman’s Purpose

The rules are:
Maximum of 250 words.
Based on photo prompt above.
That’s it.

There he was, still an hour or so, from home at the mouth of the fjord!

It had been a long, long, time-too long. Her heart raced with excitement as her eyebrows drew into a scowl.
Was she happy or angry?
God made men with a purpose. He gave them talents and proposed that they make a mark on the world.
Why weren’t children and family enough?
The science, art, and exploration, however grand and celebrated, did nothing for the rearing of children and warming her bed.

He’d be awkward in the doorway…a stranger. Then, he’d settle in offering exotic gifts and wild adventurous tales to the boys as they danced vying for his long-awaited attention.
It would take a few days for the ordinary to set in. The sense of safety and completeness that was only to be shattered in a few months by his new driving focus that didn’t include any of them.

She was tired of waiting for his ‘purposes‘ to dry up and his body to lose its untiring fitness.
Their house was in need of long overdue repair.
Keeping him home, where he belonged, would require an accident.


Posted in Memories of the Farm, My Vivid Memories

My Vivid Memories: Don’t Get Mad, Get Even.

There’s a layer of explanation I must add to this memory that I think will increase the sense in it.

I was the oldest grandchild born from the oldest child. That meant my mother’s siblings were hardly more than kids themselves when I was born. My interactions with my mother’s brother and sisters resembled that of a ‘baby’ sister more than a niece. My aunts married youthful men their own age too.

I love men! Yeah, I said it. I have no doubt that my uncles’ incessant teasing and practical jokes were most useful in making me the confident person that I am today. (Male role models are almost as essential to girls as they are to boys.) There were several moments when I teetered between the choice of crying and complaining or “taking stuff on the chin”. The route I chose which was not to get mad, but” get even” has made ALL the difference. As an 11-year-old, and on, it was quite a bold decision considering my adversaries were in their early twenties.

This one event, again, takes place at the farm. My mother’s ‘baby’ brother probably had been tormented by her at some point and his devilish pranks toward her children may have been part of a retribution. On the farm there were patches of burdocks. Burdock seedpods are covered in spiky barbs that easily catch on animal fur and clothing as Nature’s way of widely distributing the seeds. Those seed pods were famously directly responsible for the innovation we know as Velcro.

Burdocks with sticky barbs.

At the farm, we would grab a bunch of dried burdocks and make a handy ‘snowball’ of them for whacking each other in the back. They carried a startling weight and made ‘the receiver’ of the ‘shock’ have to strip off their overshirt and carefully pick them off. Pretty funny stuff!
My Mom’s brother realized that burdocks on clothes was annoying but burdocks in long hair was a nightmare and proceeded to hit me with them, every chance he got, in the back of the head. I wore thick long braids that became a tangled (somewhat painful) mess when that happened!
That same uncle had recently tried to fool my brother by pulling up to the electrified fencing (meant to keep the cows contained) close enough to touch the metal truck grill against it. My two and a half years younger brother would have gotten the startling (not deadly) shock when he exited if he had stepped out by grounding the electricity while still holding the metal door handle. If I hadn’t recognized the prank and grabbed him by the collar telling him to jump, not step out, that mean trick would have worked. Incidentally, those shocks from the fences packed quite a punch especially when you didn’t expect them.

Well, this gal had a score to settle. You can ‘mess with me’ but nobody was going to get away with ‘messing’ with my ‘baby’ brother. 😀

My uncle was in his early twenties when 77 Sunset Strip was a popular show. He wore his hair slicked back with Brylcreem probably because he wanted to look like those popular characters.

As luck would have it, Brylcreem came in a tube like toothpaste.

You’re probably already seeing my plan. And also, according to luck, my grandmother’s choice of toothpaste at the time was Colgate.

The color similarities of those two products were about to prove extremely handy.

This uncle had a habit of dragging out of bed before daylight and robotically eating his breakfast then rushing to the barn in a semi-coma. I never have seen since someone eat cereal with their eyes closed.

All I had had to do was exchange his tube of Brylcreem for the toothpaste that he was sure not to examine!

“AARGHH!” is all I heard before the bathroom door swung open. Still foaming at the mouth, he was ‘literally’ spitting mad. LOL
Even though I was laughing hysterically, I still believe he thinks it was all my grandmother’s fault for moving his ‘stuff’ around.

The moral bears repeating: Don’t ever get mad when you can get even.

You haven’t heard the last of my practical joke era…stay tuned.

Posted in In my humble opinion...

Reena’s Xploration Challenge- To My Granddaughters

I took the image and suggested prompt below and turned it on its head. As my blog’s primary purpose is to offer my views to my granddaughters, my interest is in their futures as truly strong women who believe in themselves. I would fail them if I suggested a vantage point, that I completely disagree with that suggests they should feel aggrieved or behave like entitled ‘victims’ of imaginary forces SO some may be offended. Hey… so be it.

The picture above seeks to capture your heart,
On terms now used more often to split us apart.
Women are special in their own beautiful design.
Their different abilities from men work just fine.
Equity tells us we need the same results,
It’s our diversity and efforts that term truly insults.
Our sizes and shapes don’t need to conform.
In Nature uneven potential’s the norm.
If you lift up a frog, it won’t learn to fly
Because all his value is swimming, that’s why.
Our potential is honored by being treated the same,
Not by deciding who gets a boost in the game.
Equality tries to promote sunny days
For everyone hoping to shine their own ways
But well-meaning people take an odd pride,
Thinking working achievements require a ‘ride’.
When fudging one’s gifts or in granting a perk,
Equity values no claim to your own work.
You’re not entitled to be all the same height.
It’s your equal chance to grow that’s your right.
The big no-brainer is we aren’t all the same.
Embrace your own talents for winning your game.
Equity enforces shortcuts chosen for some they enhance.
Equality promises you’ll all get a fair chance.

Posted in 6 Sentence Stories

Six Sentence Story- Given the Chance


8:05 am- Daniel knew serious trouble was brewing on the crime ravaged side street and patted his holstered revolver beneath his shirt while speeding up to avoid the impending mayhem and get to work on time.

When he opened his eyes, he could see three EMTs frantically working on someone below him as he seemed suspended in midair.

The last thing he remembered was riding his bicycle along the city street and hearing a succession of fireworks? … no, gunshots!

A woman’s anguished scream drew his attention to a limp bloody baby being placed in tiny body bag while police formed a human perimeter holding back a gathering crowd.

He regretted immediately his reluctance to stop and attempt to protect the vulnerable innocent people who were caught unaware and unarmed, so he decided to strike a bargain and declared, “Lord, give me another chance to save that baby… I care not what happens to me but let me do what’s right!”.

8:06 am- Daniel knew serious trouble was brewing on the crime ravaged side street and patted his holstered revolver beneath his shirt while skidding his bicycle to a halt…