Monday WRites 293

Click on the thumbnail image to play

 this jigsaw 'Red Ixoras'  puzzle online

You've heard about the Monday Blues well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance for eg the rite of afternoon tea). 

Welcome to Monday WRites #293: A Happy Monday to all. Be Safe.

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BLOG HOPPING TODAY WITH

Mosaic Monday 

#126: Going to the Moon (Road trip Part 8)

AND

proseMeet me where the sidewalk ends
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THOSE OUTRAGEOUS HATSThe road ends here, there is a hole in the mud a few paces away. Don't be too serious about the pavement ending. Don't overthink it. If you are a dreamer come in for the curious falling. You might trample over a few rabbits scurrying out their warren, after eggs, the Season of Easter being all of this and more.
The Red Queen? Oh no, she will not be showing her face here. She has had enough of that Alice girl, with all of her growing and shrinking; her eating and drinking.
Ah, but The Hatter, for sure he will made an appearance, to quell the ostentations of those big-hat ladies, wearing what they insist on calling Easter Bonnets, but you and I know, they are outrageously anything else but a bonnet. He will be there to judge and prize the merriest or the maddest.

© gillena cox 2021

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REVISIT
12April 2018
Easter in T&T
...hard hats

Monday WRites 289

Click to play the puzzle online: you can adjust the number of pieces and the shape of the cut

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Two popular Saint Days this week: On Wednesday St Patrick's Day and on Friday St Joseph'sDay  

You've heard about the Monday Blues well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance for eg the rite of afternoon tea). 

Welcome to Monday WRites #289: A Happy Monday to all. Be Safe.

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BLOG HOPPING TODAY WITH

Mosaic Monday 

#122: A Simple Post

AND

ProseryPossibilities
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NOTE TO SELF Wisława Szymborska, states in her poem “Possibilities”“I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.”I do not know this poet but i know i luv these words of wisdom. There is a ring to it that says change and uncertainty is like tomorrow, just a blink of  hope away. The author of life has already penned in yesterday, today and tomorrow.Note to self research and read poems by Wisława Szymborska© gillena cox 2021
❧✿❧ REVISIT
15 March 2018
15 March 2015
...sketch of every possibility
>

Monday WRites 263

[Mosaic 1 today sweeping muggy fallen leaves and blossom from the plumeria. We 🇹🇹 are in The Rainy Season, and even if if it doesn't rain at night, still in the morning i have to sweep away the dew damp muggy leaves and blossoms]

NEW NORMAL NIGHTS
Lockdown days; they crave even more, bedtime stories. Eyes bright as they cuddle next to mom or dad. Who would have thought games like: In a fine castle, Jump rope, Moral, Cricket and Football would be virtual tests of hand speeds on keyboards. This is new age plight of our children. They are weary now from staring at the computer. Sharing apples and oranges in math classes. Yet still they can yawn at the story stop - the end, and tucked tenderly into bed they drift into dreamland.

Hopefully forgetting the dragons in the virtual combats and instead, the age old stories of cows and spoons and a big bright moon create their night fantasies, when In their dreams, they sleep with the moon.
© gillena cox 2020

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You've heard about the Monday Blues well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or
eg the rite of afternoon tea). Welcome to Monday WRites #263: A Happy Monday to all


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[Mosaic 2 random words]

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Blog hopping today with

Mosaic Monday
#96: A Shor(ter) Season

AND


Prosery Monday: Moonbeams and Moon Dreams
prompted to take a given line, and incorporate it into a short prose piece. Word limit 144 words
“In their dreams
they sleep with the moon.”– From Mary Oliver, “Death at Wind River”


REVISIT
14 September 2017
14 September 2016
14 September 2015


ENJOY THE VIDEO: A reading of THIRD PLANET FROM THE SUN




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SHARE YOUR MONDAY POST AT THE LINKY BELOW

Monday WRites 259

[In today's mosaic 2 words and neem leaves]

NEW WORLD BEHIND THE MASK
Bared lips ruby red and for the daring, dark shades easing into black. They showed their souls when they stared, angrily, cheerfully, tentatively.

This was the world of the western patterns, wild women who stood up to everything. Were there a cause, their uncoverd lips spewed criticism.

Clearly audibly words left their lips.; like the singing of psalms, sometimes reverently. When it is over said and done, it was a time and there was never enough of it.

It all happened so quickly though, the muffled voices behind the masks. The necessary cordorning of space. A sentence of worldwide meter. Man women and child speaking now behind the mask.
NEW WORLD BEHIND THE MASK © gillena cox 2020

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You've heard about the Monday Blues well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or
eg the rite of afternoon tea). Welcome to Monday WRites #259: A Happy Monday to all

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Blog hopping today with

Mosaic Monday
#93: Wide Open Spaces (A.K.A. "The Little Rav That Could")

AND


Prosery Monday: A Time
Prompted to use the lines from Allison Adelle Hedge Coke, “A Time”
“when it is over said and done
it was a time
and there was never enough of it.”



REVISIT
17 August 2016
17 August 2015




ENJOY THE MUSIC: Stevie Wonder - A Time To Love feat. India Arie

Monday WRites 249

[Another June Jumble - 'Yellow Center of Today': Plumeria, Dessert Rose, Pinwheel Jasmine all from my garden today]

Welcome June and here in Trinidad and Tobago, The Wet Season.
You've heard about the Monday Blues well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or
eg the rite of afternoon tea). Welcome to Monday WRites #249: A Happy Monday to all ❧✿❧

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Blog hopping today with

Mosaic Monday
#83: Emerging (Part 2)


AND



Prosery Monday: Different Directions
Asked to write using a line from
'An Aspect of Love, Alive in the Ice and Fire' By Gwendolyn Brooks
a piece of flash fiction of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line.
We go in different directions down the imperturbable street.

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CORONA'S BOX
It was time for the opening. They emptied the contents of crowned shaped dust all over the surface of planet earth.

Mornings became quiet now except for the whistling and chirping birds letting all and sundry know that the new day had merged from night to dawn to morning. This was The New Eerie Time.

The Lords Obedient all proclaimed throughout the planet: there will be no church going, no beach going, no school going, no hugging, no assembling, no kissing, no partying. This is the Era of The New Lord No.

He he he He he he; a sinister low laughter was heard by some.

"Close the restuarants! Close the barbers and hairdressers! Yes you can wear face masks!" "Yes meh Lord they answered" And so we go in different directions down the imperturbable street. But flowers still bloomed in earth's soil.
© gillena cox 2020


REVISIT
8 June 2015

STAY SAFE

Monday WRites 245

This is how my garden said Happy Mother's Day to me, and by extension i am saying belated Mother's Day Greetings to all visiting mothers today

Wishing all A Happy Monday
You've heard about the Monday Blues well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or
eg the rite of afternoon tea). Welcome to Monday WRites #245: A Happy Monday to all ❧✿❧

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Blog hopping today with

Mosaic Monday
#79: Three Years In Montana


AND



Prosery: Maya Angelou
Challenged to use the seven words
[his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream]
From Maya Angelou's poem Caged Bird in a prose writing of not more than 144words

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The beautiful flower moon arrived early. Birds were still nesting in their hushed roosts. She was round and full, super bright at the cusp of day and night. She had traversed gazillion of stars in her eating frenzy. She was sated now.

Will there be rain to add to the tears of an earth pining under the burden of pandemic charges?

Who knew as she waned, as morning stretched awake, that her slumber behind azure curtains light and gossamer like spider weaves, would lead to a night of quarantined madness, as ominous clouds dared to hide her brillance.

And below, in a sleepy little cottage in the woods, the hermit, as he wakes in a cold sweat, his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
© gillena cox


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REVISIT
11 May 2017

11 May 2016

11 May 2015

no linky today keeping it simple ..working from my mobile phone..a new charger for my lap top ...ordered



[gif created in PicsArt background photo © gillena cox]

Monday WRites 241

[ in today's Inspiration Mosaic all photos mine, edits done in PicsArt]

DAYS OF QUARANTINE.
The open air concert planned for The Promenade, would be the first 'Bandleaders Thank You' to mas players, costume designers and onlookers.
Persons could stream in and stay the length or take in the day's event in parts, choosing what time and which singer they desired to hear.

The days were still sunny and the age old tree branches spread, some in inflorescence. Surely no one would want to sit in this fete. Benches would be empty of those old geysers who came to play draughts for coins, even though they couldn't spend the coins,
not in today's high cost of living. One had better have some dollar notes if needed to buy a loaf.

Then out of the clear blue - Days of Quarantine. Stay home, all media options cautioned. And so, no one left and no one came on the bare platform stage.
© gillena cox 2020

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Wishing all A Happy Season of Easter
You've heard about the Monday Blues well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea). Welcome to Monday WRites #241: A Happy Monday to all ❧✿❧

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Blog hopping today with

Mosaic Monday
#75: Let's Go to the Beach!


AND



Prosery: Edward Thomas
Prompted to use the lines no one left and no one came on the bare platform, from the poem
Adlestrop in a flash fiction of no more than 144 words


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REVISIT
13 April 2018
13 April 2017
13 April 2015

A MEETING WITH A GENIE (A tale, its fiction, not a poem)

A long long time ago, and far far away from home. A girl meets a genie. The genie offers her one wish, only she has to play strip poker with him, and this game has to be played in his bottle. How does a 20th century girl fit into a genie's bottle, you might ask. I have not the answer to riddles nor magic.

Okay so they make a date of it, this strip poker thing, this game, right there in the grey ambiance of a hustling Portobello Road. Then, he vanishes, as any good genie would.

She set about looking to buy herself a pack of playing cards. She knows the suits: diamonds(are a girl's best friend), hearts (oh the red queen of Alice's dream), spades (calling it as it is), clubs (ah yes, those meeting places and fun adults). She buys herself an attractive pack. Poker? poker? all the games she knows are go fish and old maid. Sadly sadly she must up her game plan.

A good distance behind the cell phone era, she calls her girl pal on the telephone. Ring ring.

"Yes i know the place, " answers girl pal. "There is a genie's bottle there?"

"Oh grown up! A crib is a space, is a bottle" she scolds girl pal dryly.

"So do you know how to play poker"

"Hear about the game lots, never played it i could ask my brother "

"O well guess i'll just have to be clumsy, play i wanted to win, and sulk while stripping. Oh and did i tell you? he is a wizard in the kitchen. Pots and pans dance to his every tune"

"Well then bon appetit, and go easy on the wine"

You had to go there didn't you, the easy bit i mean"

"Well ta taa, talk to you soon"
A MEETING WITH A GENIE © gillena cox 2019 (A tale, its fiction, not a poem)



image credit


Written for Poets United
Telling Tales with Magaly Guerrero: a Pantry of Prose, #5 ~ Away from Home

Monday WRites 209

RISE PAN MAN
When far away an interrupted cry pierced fevered brow, he tossed and sweated back to existence of now. He awoke inquiring "where is grandfather?" the first words to be uttered from his blistered lips.

This decision weighed heavy on his shoulders. He had to settle this one alone. Grandfather had gone to that winged place in the sky where clouds sat beneath ones feet and rain was ones footstool.

Should he go for pan-around-the-neck, as the elders before him did or should he shine in the newness of modern day pan sticks knocking music from the light of moon in the main street of St James.

This flu drenched him in rivers of orange juice, but he rose strong and vigorous. Should he stand behind the tenor pan in the medium band or carry his leather strap to hoist his pan around his neck.
RISE PAN MAN © gillena cox 2019

We Beat Festival 2019 is on going
You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea). A Happy Monday to all
Welcome to Monday WRites #209, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites.

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Blog Hopping today with

Mosaic Monday
#31 - How Does Your Garden Grow?

AND


heart:


AND

Prosery #1
Challenge: Write me a story using maximum 144 words that has to include the following line: When far away an interrupted cry

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REVISIT
10 June 2017
10 June 2015
We Beat 2018

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ENJOY THE MUSIC
of The St James Tripolians Steel Band