Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “Shakespeare”

28 Nov 2012
2 Comments

The Purse

An inventory of my purse
would probably reveal
an odd accumulation that
you wouldn’t want to steal.

There’s grocery lists and dried up pens
and faded old receipts.
There isn’t even anything
in there that’s good to eat.

Dead batteries, torn envelopes
with scribbles in the corners.
It’s like a pocket version of
confessions of a hoarder.

And don’t forget the loose breath mints
in fuzzy, linty coats,
and programs for special events
that happened months ago.

Money? There may be a few loose
pennies in the lining
but nothing that would justify
the plotting or designing

required for pilfering my purse,
it’s actually quite huge.
To sneak away with it, unseen,
would really be a coup.

Cards I carry in my pocket,
I rarely carry cash.
William Shakespeare had it right,
‘who steals my purse, steals trash.’

#340

Posted in A New Poem Every Morning, Poetry, Writings and tagged , , , ,
21 May 2012
4 Comments

Making Bread in the Library

I – The Reanimation
Sleepy little granules of yeast
in a warm sweet bath.
Shelly’s mad scientist fanning
the spark of life.

II – The Integration
A little fat, a little salt
become one with a big bowlful of flour.
Lean Lawrence crosses
the Arabian sands.

III – The Inundation
Water, water with the yeast in it,
Flooding the dusty, floury world.
No ark here
all are drowned.

IV – The Agitation
Stir it stiffly.
Knead it rhythmically.
Willie’s witches stir
a bubbling cauldron.

V – The Trepidation
Will it rise?
Will it come again?
Watch for the Whale
Thar she blows.

VI – The Retardation
Knock it down
Start over.
Like Tom Joad
Just trying to get along.

VII – The Formation
Shape and mold
into a pleasing form.
Kim shapes the world
and the world shapes him.

VIII – The Rejuvenation
Tenacious leavening
bubbles expand within.
Once more into the breach,
Willie once again, and why not?

IX – The Transformation
Into the oven,
Hot air wafts to meet you
Like the faint hot breeze
before Atlanta burned.

X – The Coronation
King of the dinner table
crowned with a light brush of butter.
Pull the sword from the stone
and cut a slice of life.

 

#149

Posted in A New Poem Every Morning, Poetry, Writings and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
30 Mar 2012
3 Comments

Commentary on Spam – Seriously?

I moderate comments to my blog and even though the filter informs me it’s deterred over a thousand spam messages, I still have a few to look at each day in the spam file. I have just one question…who in their right mind would allow a spam message, like the one I’ve included below, onto their page?

“Greatest fighter toasts ought to entertain on your couples.”

Thank you, my couples do not need anyone to entertain on them, certainly not fighters, great or otherwise.

I have pondered this for a long time and I can only conclude that these spam comments are the detritus generated by the proverbial ‘infinite number of monkeys sitting at an infinite number of typewriters’ before they managed to type out the complete works of Shakespeare.

Greatest fighter toasts? Seriously?

 

Posted in Commentary, Writings and tagged , , , ,

Post Navigation