(5th and last of a mini-series of taking poetic license)
Three players on the sidewalk,
Watching passersby and listen to their talk;
That’s just us.
Together we used to make music;
We were quite therapeutic;
That was just us.
We played rock, funk, and blues;
Now we never make the news;
That’s just us.
We’ve been put out to pasture,
Open to any snatcher;
That’s just us.
You may also want to read the rest of the series:
1st
2nd
3rd
4th
Image: Pixabay
(4th of a mini-series of taking poetic license)
They made their decision.
They went over each question.
Still, there’s no justice.
Their collective mind is made;
All considerations were weighed.
Still, there’s no justice.
The more the lawyer is paid,
The more the jury is swayed;
All I see is injustice.
You may also want to read the mini series Poetic Just Is:
1st
2nd
3rd
5th
(3rd of a mini-series of taking poetic license)
At first it was the land and the sea
That separated you and me
Before we could be just us.
Then your hours got shorter,
And Skype made it a little better
Before we could be just us.
Hard to believe you are here with me,
But can you turn off the TV?
Before we can be just us.
Get horizontal,
So we can be full frontal
And finally we can be just us.
Image: Pixabay
You may also want to read the mini-series Poetic Just Is:
1st
2nd
4th
5th
(2nd of a mini-series of taking poetic license)
We had rollicking times,
We got away with all kinds of crimes
Because it was just us.
We had our share of ups and downs,
Though we managed to bury our frowns
Because It was just us.
But the bad days would multiply,
And we just wanted to cry
Because it was just us.
We became so unhappy,
We went through years of therapy
Because it was just us.
I woke from my repression,
Which lifted the depression,
And realized my true identity;
It was just me.
My subconsciousness
Had made up just us.
Image: Pixabay
(1st of a mini-series of taking poetic license)
I made a decision.
Stop with the inquisition.
It just is.
My mind is made,
Nothing more to be weighed.
It just is.
Simply admire the gloss,
And accept that I’m my own boss.
It just is.
There’s no age limit
To getting a mullet.
So get used to it.
Image: Pixabay
You may also want to see:
2nd of the mini-series
3rd of the mini-series
4th of the mini-series
5th and last of the mini-series
Missed two blog post days,
I will have to plead the fifth–
Just for the summer.*
*Through the end of August, I will be posting every five days, unless I write a mini-series. In that case, it would be every other day until the series is finished. Please do read past posts you may have missed!
Image: Pixabay
The daily grind grounds Pete to the ground, like the meat he grinds to make the daily meatball grinder, the star of The Carnery, his eatery and meat shop. Day in, day out, Pete is like the meat he first pounds with his mallet. His routine is not much different from how his father described his own time at the cannery back in the day. Nor the stories his grandfather told him way back when he was a carney. Hard work is stamped in his DNA. As Pete pounds away at the meat, he thinks how Connor, his son, seems to be enjoying the fruits of his labor. Pete sent Connor to the best schools and drummed into his head the idea of seizing every opportunity he sees. As a high-powered Wall Streeter, Connor is today a true carnivore.
(a six-word story)
Most land turned toxic on Saturday.
Celebrate yourself,
Accept your significance,
For you are worthy.
Regardless of fate,
You make your own happiness;
It comes from within.
A purposeful life
Is to always be present.
Find joy in small things.
I want to tell you a tale
About what happened in Dubai.
One night after drinking ale,
I ran over this tall guy.
He had a long, forked tail
That he stuck into my eye.
Then he dragged me down to hell,
Where I stayed in a hot and smelly cell.
Image: Pixabay
Karina Pinella 
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