Delicate

June 19, 2024June 23, 2024 Amy5 Comments

Write about your first crush.

They’re all bunched together now

In my head somehow

I can’t tell you about the first one

Without telling you about the second one

And so on and so on and so on

So let me bring it to now:

I don’t want to write about it

It’ll get jinxed

I won’t breathe it into life on the paper

Or the screen

If you’ve ever tried to keep something safe

You’ll know what I mean

It’s not cool if I say all that

I think it’s chill that it’s in my head

But

I don’t wanna share

It’s delicate

Inspired by the song Delicate by Taylor Swift

This ain’t for the best
My reputation’s never been worse, so
You must like me for me
We can’t make
Any promises now, can we, babe?
But you can make me a drink

Dive bar on the East Side, where you at?
Phone lights up my nightstand in the black
Come here, you can meet me in the back
Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you
Oh damn, never seen that color blue
Just think of the fun things we could do

This ain’t for the best
My reputation’s never been worse, so
You must like me for me
(Yeah, I want you)
We can’t make
Any promises now, can we, babe?
But you can make me a drink

Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it chill that you’re in my head?
‘Cause I know that it’s delicate (delicate)
Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it too soon to do this yet?
‘Cause I know that it’s delicate

Isn’t it, isn’t it, isn’t it?
Isn’t it?
Isn’t it, isn’t it, isn’t it?
Isn’t it delicate?

Third floor on the West Side, me and you
Handsome, you’re a mansion with a view
Do the girls back home touch you like I do?
Long night with your hands up in my hair
Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs
Stay here, honey, I don’t wanna share

This ain’t for the best
My reputation’s never been worse, so
You must like me for me
(Yeah, I want you)
We can’t make
Any promises now, can we, babe?
But you can make me a drink

Isn’t it, isn’t it, isn’t it?
Isn’t it?
Isn’t it, isn’t it, isn’t it?
Isn’t it delicate?

Sometimes I wonder, when you sleep
Are you ever dreaming of me?
Sometimes when I look into your eyes
I pretend you’re mine all the damn time

Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it chill that you’re in my head?
‘Cause I know that it’s delicate (delicate)
(Yeah, I want you)
Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it too soon to do this yet?
‘Cause I know that it’s delicate (delicate)

Is it cool that I said all that? (Isn’t it?)
Is it chill that you’re in my head? (Isn’t it, isn’t it?)
‘Cause I know that it’s delicate (isn’t it delicate?)
(Yeah, I want you)
Is it cool that I said all that? (Isn’t it?)
Is it too soon to do this yet? (Isn’t it, isn’t it?)
‘Cause I know that it’s delicate

Isn’t it delicate?

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Taylor Swift / Max Martin / Johan Karl Schuster

Delicate lyrics © Taylor Swift Music, Mxm Music Ab, Songs Of Universal Inc

Official video

AI art · AI images · art · birthday gift · Cancer season zodiac · July birthday · music · prose · Short story · Siri · Summer · thank you · Writing

My Heart Runneth Over

June 18, 2024August 10, 2024 Amy31 Comments

As we head into Cancer season of the zodiac, I prepare to celebrate another year older and maybe a little bit wiser, but maybe not.

My birthday is next month, and I don’t expect any presents, but today I received one of the best gifts I’ve ever received in my life.

Our own Siri wrote a magical tale just for me. Read Love Rollercoaster here. It’s a fabulous journey, full of gorgeous art, and an engaging spinning tale. As with every story, she weaves a song into the mix. (Take a look at the title of her story and you might guess the song.)

Read her story and get lost in the beautiful images and wonderful storytelling, as I did. Read another, you won’t be disappointed. Subscribe to never miss out on the next sweeping, galactic journey and to catch up on what you’ve missed.

My heart is full and so very happy. Thank you, thank you, my friend! ♥️

blogging · daily prompt · Humor · Rafa Nadal · Summer · tennis · Writing

Breakfast With Rafa

Featured Amy10 Comments

Describe one of your favorite moments.

It’s a top five moment. I’ve had a lot of favorite moments, but this one is top five, for sure. It was the first time in my life that I had a vision and a hope to accomplish something, and from start to finish, I did. The interview was my idea, and I brought it to the website team. Surprisingly, the stars lined up and everything from there went in my favor. I can’t adequately describe the feeling, other than to say that when whatever hopes and dreams you have/had for yourself seem insurmountable and then they happen, it’s euphoric. It’s the stunned disbelief, it’s the sitting back in your chair and laughing at what just happened. It’s the feeling that you get when you write a great poem – you’re in the zone. It’s an astonishment: did that just happen? It’s a gratefulness to the universe that is verbalized repeatedly. It’s a moment you don’t know if you can ever top, and you question why you would even try. It’s the culmination of hard work and determination and a heavy dose of stubbornness. It’s a thankfulness for loving words so much that you can use them to put together something other people will enjoy. It‘s Girl Power in practice.

Read my favorite moment here: Breakfast With Rafa.

daily prompt · poetry · Writing

Halt

May 26, 2024June 9, 2024 Amy23 Comments

What are you good at?

I am hijacking this prompt. Another ego-based prompt? No thank you.

This poem is dedicated to all of the men out there who think the space I take up in the world is theirs in which to encroach upon.

Who do you think you are?

All of you

None of you

Were invited

I don’t want to hear any niceties

Any hello, I miss you

Stop thinking about me

Stop writing about me

Stop talking about me

Stop contacting me

Stop showing up

Stop

All of you

There is nothing for you here

I am not Mother Fucking Teresa

I am not always nice

I will show no mercy

When I sense a threat

I don’t want to know you

I want to forget

daily prompt · Love · Short story · Writing

Happy Mother’s Day

May 12, 2024May 19, 2024 Amy16 Comments

Share a story about someone who had a positive impact on your life.

Once upon a time, in a land about thirty miles away from where your author sits at this very moment, a tiny baby was born. She was born five weeks early because her mother chased around a cat with a baby chicken in its mouth and as a result, broke her waters. The baby’s father was away at sea, working hard as a ship’s captain and unable to return in time for the imminent premature birth of the tiny baby.

The tiny baby’s mother had to go to the hospital because the tiny baby insisted on being born, regardless of where her daddy was. The tiny baby didn’t care about that, she was ready to enter the world of the oxygen breathers. The tiny baby’s big sister took their mother to the hospital and waited in the father’s waiting room with a room full of expectant dads (this is how it was back in the day – dads waited in a room). After some time, the tiny baby was born. The tiny baby’s mother and big sister rejoiced.

The tiny baby grew as babies do, and eventually became a grown-up. Many people helped the tiny baby along the way, but there were only two at the start of the tiny baby’s life as an oxygen breather: her mommy and her big sister.

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone.

Writing

Mini-Hiatus

May 8, 2024May 16, 2024 Amy50 Comments

Hello everyone, each day I draw closer to starting my new job. It has become evident to me that I won’t have the time to write very much or very often, and even leading up to starting my new job, I don’t have very much time to devote to the process.

It’s starting to get warm and nice outside and as you know, I like to be outside with the plants. It’s staying light later and the draw to be outside is considerably greater than when it gets dark earlier.

All of this to say that I’m taking a mini-hiatus from blogging. I’ll be training on my new job for months, not just for a few weeks. I also want to get into a routine of working out again, because nothing helps the mind more than moving the body.

There are still a lot of things that I need to do this week in my home office and around my house that I haven’t done, and I need to put down the phone and the laptop and do them.

I’m not going away forever, and I may still post, but I am not putting any pressure on myself. It’s a time of transition and it has been since I lost my job in March. There have been numerous large changes, not just that one, which has equated to me not being around very much.

This is not a goodbye, it’s a see you later.

daily prompt · Humor · Writing

SHOTS FIRED 🫵 DAY ONE

May 6, 2024May 6, 2024 Amy11 Comments

What’s a job you would like to do for just one day? “Move 🐩, get out the way.” – Ludacris Tell me… Have you ever been employed by a manager who …
SHOTS FIRED 🫵 DAY ONE

Check out Annie’s excellent prompt questions here 👆

And the nomination for new prompt writer goes to…

animals · I love trees · Nature · Nature photography · Oak trees · Photography · spring · Trees · Willow oak trees · Writing

William in Spring

May 2, 2024May 5, 2024 Amy9 Comments

I wrote about William last fall. He has been doing his thing all winter, and he withstood a tornado. Although he did shed a few limbs, he seems unscathed overall.

This week William has decided to participate in the pollination of the entire neighborhood. The winds are a bit gusty, so William is trying to populate everything, basically. My next-door neighbor asked me today what kind of tree he is. I could tell she was annoyed by all of his spring activities – i.e. dropping seed pods. I told her he is a Willow Oak and many years ago, my mother thought her beloved Birch trees were dropping these pods, so she had them all cut down. It turns out, William was dropping the pods. My mother was upset about that for many years. She didn’t like William. William is a big boy, it would take a crane and many thousands of dollars to remove him. So William stays, and the bigger he gets, the more seeds drop. Everywhere. You can’t go outside without getting rained on by seed pods these days. They clog rain gutters, they form piles of tumbleweed looking things, and they get under your wiper blades. I think birds use them for their nests, though. But they can’t take a bath in the birdbath because it’s filled with William’s pods.

I was out front fussing with the clematis this morning when two (other) neighbors walked past and talked amongst themselves about these pods being everywhere. I didn’t say a word, except a good morning when the greeting was offered to me. I kept my eyes down and focused on my task. When I was done, I walked in my house and shook my hair. Twelve seed pods fell out. Thanks, William.

The man himself. If you look closely, you might be able to see him dropping seed pods like it’s a game – silly William

Oh – one more thing: for the past several years, there has been a toad living in my backyard. When I had all the English ivy eradicated last fall, I was worried that the toad might have been adversely affected. I am happy to report that Toady McToaderson is back and apparently in fine health. Today is the first day I have heard him singing his dulcet sounds to the lady toads. Welcome back, Toady.

Toady McToaderson, 2021, seen here next to ERJ II. He makes his home in this region, and he does *not* like his photo taken

animals · Nature · Nature photography · spring · Writing

I saved a bumblebee today

May 1, 2024May 5, 2024 Amy14 Comments

It’s about 90° here now, which is unusual for April and early May. Everything is hot, including humans, animals and tiny creatures. I was on my usual excursion to my neighbor’s mailbox to retrieve her mail, and when I opened the mailbox, a bumblebee was inside. It seemed disoriented and probably was quite warm having been in a hot metal box with no escape. I had just gotten my own mail, so I had torn up junk mail in my hands which came in handy – no pun intended.

My neighbor had a package in her mailbox, but nothing else, so I ignored that for a moment and used the scraps of paper that I had just torn up to escort the bumblebee out of the mailbox. It was essentially a real Lyft. The bee climbed on and I carried it in front of me like a golden child, which bumblebees truly are. I tried to find flowers, but much of them are gone, and the new batch haven’t bloomed yet. I tried a Dianthus, but as soon as I perched him or her on there, I could see there was no pollen. I apologized and eventually convinced the bee that I would find a more suitable flower. We traveled in the same way (golden child real Lyft transport system) toward the backyard where I put the bee on some wild violet flowers. It seemed there was some pollen in these, but the bee was so heavy, the flower took a slow drop to the ground. I frowned. The bee was determined and more lively at this point, so after two attempts at the wild violet flowers, I convinced he or she to get back on the paper and I would find a flower. I walked over to the azaleas, but immediately knew there was no pollen. I was out of ideas. In that moment, the bee buzzed away – took flight and was completely recovered. Buzzy was no more silent bee. Then the bee found an appropriate weed and proceeded to feed. If you’ve been here a while, you know that I chase bumblebees for photo ops. I thought maybe the bee would let me get a quick snap in, but no. But that is ok. Their lifespan is short, after all, and they have to capture the pollen. After the bee buzzed away, I went back to my neighbor’s house, got her mail out of her mailbox and put it on her stoop.

I’ve been on insect saving duty the past three days – one of the hazards/joys (however you want to look at it) of spring. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

daily prompt · fate · finding the muse · Love · poetry · Writing

By A Poet

May 1, 2024August 10, 2024 Amy53 Comments

Daily writing prompt

Do you have a quote you live your life by or think of often?

View all responses

Although I do have many favorite quotes from Zora Neale Hurston, I’m going to try to follow the rules for this prompt. I know, you’re probably thinking, “Why start now?” It’s because I have a favorite quote that I really don’t think of that often but for this prompt, I thought of it.

Years ago, I bought this book:

Filled with requited and unrequited varieties

I don’t recall why I purchased the book, but if I had to venture a guess, it would be because the book is pink, has a heart on it (your girl is obsessed with hearts and collects them – not anatomical hearts, dear reader), and it also has a pink bookmark built right in.

The book contains different chapters, which delve into the many different types of love – requited, unrequited, grief, love for pets, etc. I’m not much of a romantic, but I am sentimental. So I tend towards more eccentric quotes about not just love, but everything.

I nudged this book off my shelf for this prompt and opened it up to the page with the pink bookmark. I never take this bookmark out of this page because this is my favorite quote in the whole book, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish.

Without further adieu, Let me introduce you to my favorite quote:

When I read this the first time, I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret it. Then I realized there were many ways to interpret it. In fact, I have a new interpretation as I write this.

What is a superstition? (We all know, because we all remember the daily prompt from not that long ago.) Examples of superstitions include walking under a ladder is considered bad luck, opening an umbrella in the house is bad luck, breaking a mirror will give you seven years of bad luck, black cats are bad luck, knocking on wood so whatever you’ve just said comes true or stays safe (depends on the situation), and many more. Superstitions are misunderstood, mysterious, used as protection. In my mind, I always think about superstitions as hovering in the air in a cloud. Superstitions are not part of reality, but they are still given deference and respect. They are very real to the person who believes.

Having said that, I believe Monsieur Baudelaire is speaking here of unrequited love, a love that to him is so precious, he keeps it in the clouds just out of reach. The image of his love stays in his mind, and in his heart is where the cherishing blooms, but his love is so much more than that. He seems to be under a spell. To say you are more than an image I dream about and cherish, you are my superstition, means to me, that you are the very thing that I believe in, the idea of which makes no sense, but I love you more than I could ever love anyone else. And yet, there is a mystery about you. Are you bad for me? If my love were requited, would it be a mistake? Would it ruin everything? Superstition has to stay in the clouds, just out of reach, and so does the love. Dream of it, cherish it, hold it in the highest regard. Be also aware of its mystery and respect the unknowingness of it.

Monsieur Baudelaire was a controversial poet in Paris in the 19th century. He was part of the Decadent era. Knowing a bit about poets myself, I’ve been thinking: is the superstition the muse? Oui.

✨💫✨