Total Eclipse

Image: Pixabay

Unite all humanity,
See through the inanity
Of division and inequality.

Have no lessons been learned
From past acts of people burned?
Blood and tears seem all that’s been earned.

Classicism,
Racism,
Other types of separatism.

All such negativity
Can only create a proclivity
To increase destructivity.

Clearly, the wrong ways;
Let’s stop the craze,
Time to start a new phase.

Speak respectfully,
Have empathy,
Achieve unity . . . and the darkness will lift.

Sizzle to Fizzle

Image: Pixabay

Their chemistry was right
At least at first sight,
For months they were tight
Then came the big fight.

Both their hearts took a bite
From each other they took flight,
Then after nearly  a fortnight
They agreed  to reunite.

But things don’t always crystallize
They soon realize,
When there’s no more to analyze,
Or a desire to compromise.

Adored Face

Part 3 of 3, see Part 2

Image: Pixabay

Image: Pixabay

Ron surveyed the unit, satisfied his studio apartment looked tidy. He ran to the daybed to make sure he put in new sheets. This might just be the night. A light tap on the front door prompted him to straighten his shirt and greet his guest.

“You look great.” Ron swallowed, as he noticed the top two buttons of Ronnie’s blouse were undone, allowing a glimpse of cleavage.

He took her hand and led her inside. “I thought we could have our dinner first and then relax over there on the couch.” He gestured for her to sit. “Here, please.” He pulled out a folding chair from the makeshift table, made up of two TV trays facing each other.

“Pretty candles.” Ronnie commented on the centerpiece.

Ron thanked her, glad he decided to buy the two red votive candles instead of settling for his little electric lantern, seeing that the dancing flames looked more romantic than a LED.

He took out the meatloaf and mashed potatoes from the oven, relieved he had gotten to the grocery store on time before they ran out of dinner entrées. “I hope you like it.” He placed the food on the table and sat across from her.

“Thank you for making dinner. You’re quite the cook.” She beamed at him.

“I admit I’m a man of a few hidden talents.” Ron hemmed and hawed, as he bit into the meatloaf and found it to be dry. “Oops, forgot the music.” He got up and turned on the radio to a station that played instrumental music.

They ate mostly in silence, smiling at each other between bites.  After they finished, Ron served cupcakes, which they quickly consumed. Almost bounding out of his chair, he guided her to the sofa.

“I’d like to read to you a poem I’ve been working on all week.” He took out an index card from his shirt pocket. Clearing his throat, he read:

“Roses are red, violets are blue,
Every day and every night, I think of you.
You opened the door to my heart,
Which I gladly give to you in a cart.
One slam is all it takes to make me say bye.
Then I cry because I’m a sensitive guy.”

Ronnie sighed and wiped an eye. “That is the most beautiful poem anyone has ever written for me.” Ronnie cupped his face and kissed him on the lips. “I adore your face, Ron.” They both held each other’s eyes. She started unbuttoning her blouse.

He placed his hand on her arm, interrupting her reveal. “Ronnie, I have something to tell you about me.”

She looked at him expectantly.

“I . . . I . . . ahem . . . I’ve never done it. I’ve never met anyone who liked me enough to . . . “

Ron felt Ronnie take his chin so he was forced to look her in the eyes. She smiled at him and said:

“Daisies are yellow, carnations are pink,
Let me tell you what I think,
You bring out the poetry in me
Flowing so naturally.
I see it as a sign
For you and me to entwine. “

Though they fumbled at first, Ron finally had his cherry burst.

With a flourish, Cupid bows after recounting his latest accomplishment to his rapt audience. “Thank you, all, for your loving attention. I’m overjoyed to see yet another match come together so well.”
hearts

[To read the beginning: see Part 1]

Door Phase

Part 2 of 3; see Part 1

restaurant

Ron couldn’t believe how long he’d been seeing Ronnie. Three weeks, two days, one hour, and 45 seconds, as he looked at the time change on his smartphone, the screen looking good as new. He had never had a real girlfriend to speak of so he wasn’t sure what stage he’s in now that it appears to be continuing.

After pondering this a bit, he determined he’s in the “door phase,” which means to him he has yet to get past the door after taking her back to her place. At least he’s not getting it slammed in his face. That’s progress. Another forward move is that she seems to have gotten over her ex, although he wasn’t quite sure in what way he was an ex. He thought about their date last night.

“I’m so happy we ran into each other,” said Ronnie as she looked deeply into Ron’s eyes. Then they both burst out laughing because that was exactly how they met.

Now settled down and seated with Ronnie at his favorite Italian restaurant, Ron said, “I don’t know if this is too soon to ask, but I often wonder if you’re still thinking about your ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh, he’s just an ex, but I don’t know if I would call him my boyfriend. We dated only a couple of times and then he would text me. But, he never asked me out again. He just kept texting almost every day, letting me know about his day and saying we should get together again. And then, that day the two of us met in the park, he simply said he wasn’t interested in me anymore. I don’t know now why I cried so hard. I guess I was afraid I’d never meet anyone again.”

“I was thinking the very same thing, actually. It was fate that brought us together. To be honest with you, I’ve never been with a woman this long.” Ron’s revelation made him think about his secret.

Ronnie gasped and replied, “First of all, I always thought that since we have almost the same nicknames, I felt we were meant to meet and . . . I also have never been with anyone this long.”

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Ron said, “Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m so glad I got to know you.”

“How sweet . . .”

“I’ve never felt moved to write a poem before until I met you . . . my moose, you inspire me.”

“Uh, I think it’s pronounced muse,” she whispered.

“Oh, all this time I thought it . . . no wonder it seemed kind of odd. Anyway, this is so new to me, writing poems and all that’s involved with it.”  Ronnie smiled.

As they both held hands and savored the moment, their server suddenly appeared and presented the check. The distraction ruined the mood and Ron soon took her home shortly after paying for a dinner that set him back nearly half a paycheck. But he felt it was about time to spring for a good meal. Going out to coffee shops didn’t give them enough time to talk as much as they did during dinner. He almost confided in her, but perhaps he can wait until Valentine’s Day that’s coming up soon.

To be continued . . .

Lovefest

love

Thank you, Fitnessgrad, for the Lovely Blog Award you bestowed upon me last year in July. Excuse my tardiness, but as I’ve said before – better late than never.

Now that we’re into February, I’d like to start this month with the theme of love. As I’m wont to do, I’m changing the rules for this award where you normally tell readers about yourself. Rather than answering questions about me and nominating a select few of my fellow bloggers for the award, I’d like to turn this into a Lovefest.

I invite you to comment about something, someone, or anything you love, and leave your blog link below to give others the opportunity to fall in love with your site.

I wish you all a lovely bloggin’ time. Have a wonderful weekend!

The Unfortunate Seed

cell

Image: Pixabay

Baby Toula is an ugly baby even her own mother can’t kiss, although she claims to love her, only because she came from her womb. That’s a womb its owner, Mama Lydia, did not know had become a receptacle to a hodgepodge of chemicals, such  as synthetic fragrances she’s inhaled and the artificially preserved lotions her skin’s absorbed from the time she was a little girl to the mature fruit bearer she has now become.

As with any unsuspecting person, Lydia paid no heed to what her body was accumulating over time. How did she know the sweet, cloying Vanilla Ice cologne contained something that was also the lethal ingredient in a bug spray? Or a window cleaner? She isn’t one to question things like that. To her 20-something life, it’s more about fun stuff–like tasting those delicious bon bons that come in unnaturally vivid colors. She simply thought that if others bought them, they must be fine. The companies that churn them out are household names, so they can be trusted. Their packaging says they are mostly natural and good for you.

Now, she rocks on her chair looking at her baby from across the room, because Toula repulses her. She has pustules on a face that should be smooth-cheeked. And what should be shiny, baby fine hair is more like a patch of raised bumps. Where her lidded bright eyes would have been are unblinking dots filled in with odd-shaped cells. How she welcomes a loud cry. Instead, there’s only occasional bursts of heaves that raise her hackles.

Lydia thinks Toula is an unfortunate seed, though not a bad seed like her older sister Lizzie, who grew up to butcher their parents. Lydia will have to make sure Toula doesn’t have access to any axes.

Sleepy Sunday

Happy Mother's Day

Image by Maya

Sleep, sleep, little angel,
Let Mama’s tender hands
And Papa’s gentle song
Lull you to the
Land of Sweet Dreams,
Where you can play
With Wynken, Blynken, and Nod
Sail a while with the three
Until you find yourself back
In your little cradle,
All rested and ready for
Another day of play.

Sad Sack

baby, come back
Rudy relentlessly pursues Trudy. The Snapchats and texts he’s sent to her are all for naught. Never opened, they’re not enough for his prior rebuff. Trudy once was true just for him, but he turned her away for seemingly better scenes. After seeing no one’s fairer or better, sad sack Rudy realizes his lack. But Trudy is now watching another one’s back.