Day 362 – Silent Stranger *note – for some reason this post was sitting in my drafts unpublished*

Silent Stranger

Day 362

The Ad-Dressing Of Cats by T. S. Eliot

You’ve read of several kinds of Cat,
And my opinion now is that
You should need no interpreter
To understand their character.
You now have learned enough to see
That Cats are much like you and me
And other people whom we find
Possessed of various types of mind.
For some are same and some are mad
And some are good and some are bad
And some are better, some are worse–
But all may be described in verse.
You’ve seen them both at work and games,
And learnt about their proper names,
Their habits and their habitat:
But
How would you ad-dress a Cat?So first, your memory I’ll jog,
And say: A CAT IS NOT A DOG.And you might now and then supply
Some caviare, or Strassburg Pie,
Some potted grouse, or salmon paste–
He’s sure to have his personal taste.
(I know a Cat, who makes a habit
Of eating nothing else but rabbit,
And when he’s finished, licks his paws
So’s not to waste the onion sauce.)
A Cat’s entitled to expect
These evidences of respect.
And so in time you reach your aim,
And finally call him by his NAME.

So this is this, and that is that:
And there’s how you AD-DRESS A CAT.

•••
This little fellow and I crossed paths and he sat silently as I talked to him in a silly sing-song voice.  He was likely thinking about his superiority and about my pea brain as he contemplated me.  Sweet, shiny and quite healthy there is someone he is no stranger to.  I wonder if we will ever cross paths again?

Day 365 – The Last One and a Big Huzzah

It Bustles

Day 365

Finis by Dorothy Parker

Now it’s over, and now it’s done;
Why does everything look the same?
Just as bright, the unheeding sun, —
Can’t it see that the parting came?
People hurry and work and swear,
Laugh and grumble and die and wed,
Ponder what they will eat and wear, —
Don’t they know that our love is dead?

Just as busy, the crowded street;
Cars and wagons go rolling on,
Children chuckle, and lovers meet, —
Don’t they know that our love is gone?
No one pauses to pay a tear;
None walks slow, for the love that’s through, —
I might mention, my recent dear,
I’ve reverted to normal, too.

•••
At long last, it is finished.  I finished where I started as planned from the very first shot.  And I am stunned at how the quality of my shooting has improved.  I never realized I had so much to learn.
And a good riddance to this 365…

First shot and final shot. What a difference a year makes….

Day 364 – Last Call

Last Call

Day 364

Sitting by a Bush in Broad Sunlight by Robert Frost

When I spread out my hand here today,
I catch no more than a ray
To feel of between thumb and fingers;
No lasting effect of it lingers.

There was one time and only the one
When dust really took in the sun;
And from that one intake of fire
All creatures still warmly suspire.

And if men have watched a long time
And never seen sun-smitten slime
Again come to life and crawl off,
We not be too ready to scoff.

God once declared he was true
And then took the veil and withdrew,
And remember how final a hush
Then descended of old on the bush.

God once spoke to people by name.
The sun once imparted its flame.
One impulse persists as our breath;
The other persists as our faith.

•••
Second to the last day, posted on the same day as the final shot.  The anticipation is KILLING me!!
•••

Fuzzy Logic

Day 363 – 500 Pieces

500 Pieces

Day 363

Picture Puzzle Piece by Shel Silverstein

One picture puzzle piece
Lyin’ on the sidewalk,
One picture puzzle piece
Soakin’ in the rain.
It might be a button of blue
On the coat of the woman
Who lived in a shoe.
It might be a magical bean,
Or a fold in the red
Velvet robe of a queen.
It might be the one little bite
Of the apple her stepmother
Gave to Snow White.
It might be the veil of a bride
Or a bottle with some evil genie inside.
It might be a small tuft of hair
On the big bouncy belly
Of Bobo the Bear.
It might be a bit of the cloak
Of the Witch of the West
As she melted to smoke.
It might be a shadowy trace
Of a tear that runs down an angel’s face.
Nothing has more possibilities
Than one old wet picture puzzle piece.

Day 361 – Sunday Night

Sunday Night

Day 361

The Frog and the Golden Ball by Robert Graves

She let her golden ball fall down the well
And begged a cold frog to retrieve it;
For which she kissed his ugly, gaping mouth –
Indeed, he could scarce believe it.

And seeing him transformed to his princely shape,
Who had been by hags enchanted,
She knew she could never love another man
Nor by any fate be daunted.

But what would her royal father and mother say?
They had promised her in marriage
To a cousin whose wide kingdom marched with theirs,
Who rode in a jeweled carriage.

‘Our plight, dear heart, would appear past human hope
To all except you and me: to all
Who have never swum as a frog in a dark well
Or have lost a golden ball.’

‘What then shall we do now?’ she asked her lover.
He kissed her again, and said:
‘Is magic of love less powerful at your Court
Than at this green well-head?’

Day 360 – It’s Not Always a Bad Thing

It’s Not Always a Bad Thing

Day 360

Bright Cap and Streamers by James Joyce

Bright cap and streamers,
He sings in the hollow:
Come follow, come follow,
All you that love.
Leave dreams to the dreamers
That will not after,
That song and laughter
Do nothing move.

With ribbons streaming
He sings the bolder;
In troop at his shoulder
The wild bees hum.
And the time of dreaming
Dreams is over — –
As lover to lover,
Sweetheart, I come.

•••
A bit blown out, but sometimes it just works.  I went with a more traditional light in the second shot….
•••

It Doesn’t Look too Bad

Day 359 – Mother’s Day Comes Once Again

Mother’s Day Comes Once Again

Day 359

The Mother by Robert William Service

Your children grow from you apart,
Afar and still afar;
And yet it should rejoice your heart
To see how glad they are;
In school and sport, in work and play,
And last, in wedded bliss
How others claim with joy to-day
The lips you used to kiss.

Your children distant will become,
And wide the gulf will grow;
The lips of loving will be dumb,
The trust you used to know
Will in another’s heart repose,
Another’s voice will cheer . . .
And you will fondle baby clothes
And brush away a tear.

But though you are estranged almost,
And often lost to view,
How you will see a little ghost
Who ran to cling to you!
Yet maybe children’s children will
Caress you with a smile . . .
Grandmother love will bless you still,–
Well, just a little while.

Day 358 – Get To Work!!!

Get To Work!!!

Day 358

The End Of The Library by Weldon Kees

When the coal
Gave out, we began
Burning the books, one by one;
First the set
Of Bulwer-Lytton
And then the Walter Scott.
They gave a lot of warmth.
Toward the end, in
February, flames
Consumed the Greek
Tragedians and Baudelaire,
Proust, Robert Burton
And the Po-Chu-i. Ice
Thickened on the sills.
More for the sake of the cat,
We said, than for ourselves,
Who huddled, shivering,
Against the stove
All winter long.
•••
Interesting poem find at a time when libraries in Florida are banning the trilogy “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Day 357 – Pepsi

Pepsi

Day 357

Michael qualified for the 6th year in the row in the Pepsi bowling tournaments.  He bowled GREAT the first four games, however in that fourth game (a super 186) he was convinced by his father that the lanes were terrible and he followed up with a 144 and a 135.  He walked out disappointed, but I walked out proud that my fabulous son had a 235 (2nd game!) for the first time in a major tournament!  My son ROCKS!

Day 356 – Crackin’

Crackin’

Day 356

An Old Cracked Tune by Stanley Kunitz

My name is Solomon Levi,
the desert is my home,
my mother’s breast was thorny,
and father I had none.

The sands whispered, Be separate,
the stones taught me, Be hard.
I dance, for the joy of surviving,
on the edge of the road.