Sunday, June 16, 2013
WHAT A TREAT!
Years ago I had a small squirrel monkey as a pet. I had first fallen in love with him in a dark corner at the back of the basement of Kresge's store where they had kept their pet section. It not the sort of goods that made up the bulk of their inventory.
I had grown up on the stories and pictures that my father's years of exploration in South America. And a favorite story had been of a squirrel monkey that joined him on a raft on one of the tributaries of the Amazon. When my father died unexpectedly a few days before Christmas, my teen-aged children pooled their meager savings and bought me Bobinho (Portuguese for "Little clown) as a Christmas gift to ease my mourning.
I was determined to be a good monkey mother. I bought him his favorite foods. He loved bananas and peanuts, as did I, but research led me to believe that he would savor a treat that was also good for his health: meal worms! The books were right! Given a choice of foods, the meal worms won his enthusiastic favor evey time. Fortunately they were available at a local bird store.
And what does a good mother do? She tastes her child's food, of course! I'll admit that I put it off for quite a while, but finally I picked up a squirmy worm and bit into it. That stopped the squirming.
How can I describe it? It was a bit chewy, but my surprised taste buds were immediately seduced by its flavor. No wonder Bobinho liked it best! It tasted like the best meat tenderloin marinated in a sauce of fragrant tropical fruits, sweet and spicy!
Next, I hurried to the bathroom, spit it into the toilet, then brushed my teeth thoroughly. There are some things that even good monkey mothers can't bring themselves to swallow!
Sunday, May 26, 2013
IF I COULD
The prompt is "luscious |
IF I COULD
I would live on words
would chew grainy words like pumpernickel, lick
slick words that slide against the tongue
and melt like lilikoi
luscious Hawaiian ice-upon-a-stick.
Nor would I live on food words only
but feast on all the savory
flavored dictionary words
the meaty ones like buxom and contemplate
seasoned with peppery sprinkles
of quip and tipple
and I would nibble the edges
of flat round cookies of extrapolate, reforestation
and tickle my palette with perfumed words:
Aldebaran, oriental, satin.
I would open my Webster's Unabridged
and grow fat on specious, unadulterated, irresolute.
Never, never would I grow hungry.
I would give thanks to the great god Gutenberg
and lay me down to sleep
after I sip a soothing drink brewed from
soporific, subliminal, and seraphim
and I will dream of books and libraries
burgeoning with sustenance.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Fuzzy Memory
Sunday, March 31, 2013
SPRING
The Sunday Scribblings prompt is "seasoned".
SPRING
Spring flutters in, fabulous flirt,
And flicks the last snows from her skirt.
Released from storms' prison,
Our garden hopes risen,
We neighbors are sharing the dirt.
I wrote this this week for Mad Kane's Limerick off.
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