letter pWhat’s there to say
When, there’s nothing to say?
Today’s as ordinary
As every other day
Words didn’t come
Left me lonesome

It may not be not pretty
Please indulge wallowing in self-pity
Where are colorful words, fantastic phrases?
Things to break, my general malaises?
Hurry, bring something dramatic
My mood is distinctly monochromatic

Perhaps, something to placate
My phrasemongering passions?
Is alliteration all I’ve got?
So trite–so old-fashioned
By Jove, I’ve got it!
It’s the answer
It’s got to be!

A favorite letter–the letter “P”
Some favorite words
That start with “P”
Peace, passion, persistence
Poignant, proportion, plethora
Unpleasant ones–I choose to ignore
I could list more, If I tried
My very favorite “P” word is pie

LITTLE GENIUS 2500, (Behind the Magic 8 Ball)

Magic 8 Ball

It’s a brief interlude between rainstorms.  Neighbors are poking their heads out like prairie dogs in a prairie dog town.  Will I be greeted by a watery deluge upon egress?  Do I need to take an umbrella?  There’s more than meteorology on my mind as I leave for my morning walk.

I’ve come down with writer’s block complicated by a severe case of the “can’t help its.”  How to be myself, be original, and come up with posts worthy of the reader’s time?  Wouldn’t it be nice to be recognized by someone like, “James Lipton in the Actor’s Studio?”  “Your last post was both stupendous and magnanimous.”  “I, along with other readers were spellbound.”  “Did your inspiration come from an inner muse?”  “If you don’t mind my asking, whom, or what, is your inner muse?”

Daydreams, accolades aside, what if there was an electronic device specially designed and engineered to aid the struggling blogger?  A twenty-first century electronic version of the “Magic Eight Ball” comes to mind.  Our world is ever evolving in increasing complexity.  An ultimate authority with “one size fits all” answers to questions is appealing.  Picture the CEO of a major fortune five-hundred corporation consulting his “Magic 8 Ball” at a stockholder’s meeting.  Not funny?  Why? because you expected more–a sophisticated personal electronic device of some sort.  What I really needed, was a writer’s block “unblocker.”

That was the beginning of my Little Genius 2500, “blogger’s friend” concept.  What did I want it to do?  It would be geared to my personality–likes and dislikes.  …Generate topic suggestions avoiding duplication.  …Display different viewpoints. …Monitor clichés and overused phrases.  …Offer alternative phrasing and words.  …An optional Little Genius 2550 would be enhanced with media clips and quotes. …Voice input processing software that converted to print, with corrections… Last, but certainly not least, a soothing, reassuring, synthesized, guiding voice.

The Little Genius 2500 prototype only existed in my imagination.  There won’t be a production version.  The prototype tripped all circuit breakers–gave me a terrific headache.  It became an awkward, unwieldy, bulky contraption–expected to do too much.  If there ever was such as thing, it would only be a crutch.  I’m still behind the “Magic Eight Ball.”  Now, where is it?  It’s never around when I need it.  Will it rain tomorrow?  “Answer hazy, try again.”  Are there better times ahead? It is decidedly so.”  Why waste time?  I need an inner muse.  The search is on.

I Got Nothin’


Somewhat dishevelled
Originality shrivelled
Clichés stumbled
Over each other

Negativity wouldn’t go away
I got nothin’
Got nothin’ to say
Nothing pithy, nothing witty
Nothing cynical, even pitiful

If it mattered
Thoughts have scattered
Still got my dignity
Or, what’s left of it
So, I’m quietly walking away

CRITIC’S CORNER (My Inner Critic)

My “Inner Critic” is a mixture of people.  The most influential, my parents and grandparents, (may they rest in peace).  …Liberally seasoned with my drill sergeant, a crusty old farmhand named Floyd, a pinch of Don Rickles and John Wayne added for extra zing.

What’s on your mind–you’ve been talking to yourself a lot lately?  …Not a good sign.  How’s it going?

I think I’m doing pretty good–staying on point.  I’ve got a few followers and favorite blogs I follow.English: Staff Sergeant Kevin L. Zetina, Plato...

Pretty good.  That’s like kissing your sister.  …Namby-pamby, everything is everything.  Sometimes you make me sick. Do you still enjoy blogging?

I enjoy it most of the time.  Sometimes it’s frustrating.

When is it frustrating?

When I start a post.  Loneliness and self-doubt then stop in to visit.

If it’s that much trouble, why do it?  There are easier hobbies.  You look more like a stamp collector.

Thanks, I guess that was a compliment.  I wondered what a typical stamp collector looked like?  Blogging is an outlet for self-expression.  It’s easier to express my thoughts in written form.  Choosing topics is easy.  After that it gets hard.  I’ve given birth to an idea and feel a responsibility to do something meaningful with it.

You only come to me when you need something.  There has to be more.  Out with it, I’ve got other things to do–namely, take a nap.  His sarcasm was less than subtle.

Why do posts, I’ve spent the most time on, get the fewest likes?Cropped screenshot of John Wayne and Angie Dic...

“Boo-hoo nobody likes me.”  What are you, eight?  Suck it up and move on.  Maybe you were over thinking?  Nobody likes a know-it-all.  Did you know  you came across as a history teacher?

No, I hadn’t given it much thought.  What about my colorful character examples based on life experiences?

Characters, schmaracters–they’re from your life, not everyone elses.  Were you writing a novel or a poem?  What do you want to be–a writer or a poet?  Pick one, take a stand, get off the fence, then be a damn good one, Pilgrim. 

Maybe I should go back to guitar playing and forget about blogging?  My musical side needs more expression.

Don’t run away every time you have self-doubts.  Everybody’s got ’em.  Do I need to remind you you’ll never be a rock star?  Finish what you start.  Don’t be so hard on yourself.  You’re not going to hit a home run every time at bat.  Seriously, did you think anyone, would find the image of a seedy used car salesman appealing? 

I see what you mean.  That’s good advice and I like baseball analogies.

Look at how far you’ve come.  Your first ten posts were atrocious and you know it.  There’s still more to learn.  I liked your forays into photography–especially the mother dove and babies.  The picture spoke for itself.  I’m proud of you for not screwing it up with meaningless gibberish.  Sometimes short and sweet is best.    

You’re right.  That was a good post.  I’ll try to keep them coming.

Don’t try too hard–slow down, concentrate more on quality than quantity.  Sometimes it’s more how you say something than what you say.  Don’t be too obscure.  You know in your head what you want to say, cut through the clutter and get to the point.  Check out what other bloggers are doing.  Be yourself.  Put your own spin on something.       

Thanks  for the encouragement.  We really need to talk more.Don Rickles

Promises,  promises, I’ll stack these along with the other ones. 

My wife is out searching for bargains and I’m a lonely Black Friday widower.

Sorry, I can’t help you with that.  You’re starting to look a little chunky.  Better do something about it.  Get down and give me twenty!  Are you really gonna’ publish this? 

He had that “Don Rickles” characteristic smirk on his face.  Yes, why?








Essence d’un Cauchemar

What was the price for fun?

In my underwear, faced the wind

Tin horns, drums, kazoo bands

Kings, Queens, throngs of people

Noisy, glittery, paper mache thrones

Cops and robbers, judges and juries

Kept a low profile, I was just on loan


Spews of cliché ridden drivel and dreck

Written words, no premise or promise

Guilty, convicted, I’d been warned

My partner in crime was still at large

I kept quiet, thoughts locked away

Hidden under a table, stifled a sneeze

Relieved, though my cause was lost


There was nothing to keep me there

Alone in a jail that had no bars

The future was an expandable form!

I could do better, I begged to differ!

 Artistic direction, voices barely understood

Victimless crimes, didn’t cause any harm

Glory! Hallelujah! The band marched on


-I’m not going to write today-

*It wouldn’t be that good*

-The same old song-

 -would come out wrong-

*My inspiration has gone away*

-And I’m just not in the mood-

-Childhood fears, crocodile tears-

*The world shouldn’t be that way*

-My frolic, has turned melancholic-

*I’m going to call it a day!*


–I wandered in sylvan solitude

Muted sunlight, gentle breezes

A vision, danced before my eyes

My eyes followed, every movement

Transfixed, by beauty and grace

Child-like innocence and femininity

Prisoner of laughter and gentility

I dared not turn away

She disappeared, reappeared in shadow

And playfully extended her hand

Beckoned me, to follow in the dance

Vision faded to a wisp

Never, had anything, been wanted more

Beauty to behold, never possessed

Disappointment ended, with this truth for me

Sunlight and wind, forever will her suitors be–


-Poor pitiful Pluto!

-Pathetic, puny, pipsqueak of a planet

-Persistently, perceived problematic by professionals

-Purposely, painfully, plucked from prominence

-Pass peacefully, prosaic pseudo-planet!