Taking what life throws at me one pitch at a time
🎶
I'm called Little Dilettante
Dear Digital Dilettante
Though I could never tell why
But still I'm so dilatory
In social media purgatory
Stream of consciousness blogger am I
I've haikus for Mondays
And tankas for Tuesdays
From prompts kind people provide
I post them in mornings
To shake up my wake up
Then on with my daily survive
🎶
Taken from where the missile base once was but is now a bird sanctuary🐦⬛
Montrose trolley bus
Before the sun rises up
Fish off the jetty
Not any jetty
This was the Montrose horseshoe
Near the Nike base
Caught so many perch
Also some hefty salmon
But most times caught zip
The difference between
winners and losers. Winners
know how to palm cards
Covered in times soot
This old coot don't scoot
As a geezer
I'm quite the wheezer
Not much of a pleaser
An occasional teaser
I think about this
I think about that
Now I wonder
Is the past tense of scoot
Scat
Considering how long life has been scuttling around on this heap of magma, lava, smegma, and other solidified forms of said substances: I need to know after which flood do you inquire. So I wrote this tanka instead.
Misunderstood bugs
Antediluvian ants
And what they hath wrought
Things my Uncle George did with
My Auntie Diluvian
From flood plain to astral plane, trying to keep my head above water.
Just like ant
🐜🐜🐜🐜🐜
I got a boulder
On my shoulder trying to crush
Me as I moulder
It's what I can do
As I try to mitigate
Sorrows of the world
Making the world dirtier, meaner, and less safe
With every moment he soils that once prestigious office
Meanwhile
I couldn’t resist posting one of my favorite tunes for this prompt
The Trader Joe’s parking lot bench with long ago May flowers
I rummage about
In rubbish I've left behind
The frolics of yore
The many sheets from before
Bits and bytes of things to come
Stacks of melted wax
The mess of cassette formats
All shapes and sizes
Twentieth century discs
Magneto stuff lost in mists
All up in the cloud
Or that's what I have been told
Digital rummage
NFTs now will be sold
Just like the tulips of old
No lugging required
Paper trail's have long been trashed
Memories now stored
By our server overlords
Just one EMP away
Remember: A.I. thinks the word “memories” has four syllables. They are: me-m-o-ries. 🤣
A sorcery full of secrets
Full up to the brim
With milk of human malign
Or dandelion wine
Slopping over the rim
Whether to right a wrong
Or to wrong a right
Pick your assignment
Change the weather
Change the channel
Mumble a chant
Bang a gong
Sing a song
Even if you can't
Black cat moan
Depends on the saucer
Depends on the milk
Depends on the sorcerer
It's all in the spell
Drizzle Drazzle Druzzle Drome
A Scroll Threw Life 