Goal of the Week

Goal of the Week 5/28/2017

As an advocate of journaling, I have been pretty lax in writing entries in my own personal journal during this month of May. Journaling has always been a source of comfort and vacuum for my jumble of thoughts and source of inspiration.  Not having done it has definitely left me with a clogged pipe of thoughts and it’s time to call the plumber and unclog my brain.

journaling

“Write an entry into my journal every day this week to dust out the tangled web of thoughts currently fogging my brain.”

Goal of the Week

Goal of the Week 5/1/2017

just write

My last two goals consisted of empty promises of writing two posts a week. Obviously, I didn’t keep to them. So this week, I am starting with something extremely simple- going back to the basics- to get the creative juices flowing again.

” Spend 15 minutes every day this week writing, the end result of which will be the Sunday post for this blog. It can be anything, any topic. Just WRITE!”

 

Poetry, Haiku, or Rhymes

Return of Dumb Poetry

To you few who,

Are my readers dear and true.

And may not have had a clue,

If I had said “pooh-pooh, vamoose “and adieu.

calvin376_2

I have not been far from you,

Just a bit of an education I pursue.

Please do not think that I misdo,

My life has just been one hectic snafu.

My return has been long  overdue,

Though this rhyme is truly full of poo.

I know that I sound like one with a loose screw

It’s finally over. Whew!

As my first semester in college comes to a close, what comes with it is my return to the blogosphere. It’s been one fantastic heck of a ride, and I am mentally prepping up for another one, but I missed my beloved hobby. 

May this be one wild hullabaloo!

Poetry, Haiku, or Rhymes

The Blushing Banana

Have you ever seen a banana blush?

That golden delight colored pink?

A shyer fruit you’d never meet,

One moment glorious, another moment mush.

 

I met a banana once,

Gerald was his name.

The blushiest banana for miles around,

He could speak, and yet, still make not a sound.

 

If you smiled, or talked to him:

His mustache twitched,

His nose would itch.

To his face, the blood would rush,

Giving him the pinkest, blushiest blush.

 

What’s a poor, poor, banana,

Like Gerald to do?

Maybe grow a beard,

And move to Timbuktu.

 

 

Goal of the Week

Goal of the Week 2/19/2017

There is something quite thrilling about checking things off of your to-do list. Like a mug of hot chocolate on a rainy day brings warmth to your bones, ticking off those to-dos has that same effect on your emotional bones. 

Though my school and work schedule takes up most of my time, I still do plan to keep up with at least two posts a week. 

” Make a concerted effort this week to lay aside a chunk of time, to really spend some quality time working on the first draft of my book.”

books-cup-cup-of-tea-dreams-favim-com-2766853

Poetry, Haiku, or Rhymes

The Case of the Flying Shoe

Went for a ride in a flying shoe,

Up, up, up, and a hey didi lee doo.

We flew over the block,

And under a nose shaped rock.

With a hey nonny noo,

Me and the flying shoe.

Gave a “Ho there,” and a “by your leave,”

To a group of pirates celebrating on a midsummer’s eve.

 

On and on we flew, my shoe and I,

Singing a merry la dee die.

To where a group of hippos pirouetted in tutus,

Followed by cartwheeling toads in muumuus.

To a snowy land we flew,

Where shivering and teeth chattering, I and my shoe.

Saw penguins tap dancing, row upon row,

While the polar bears, with flutes, kept time on ice caps below.

 

We joined in the winter dance, my shoe and me,

Stomping, tapping, and twirling, hey diddly dee.

Till dawn’s first light, we capered quite merrily,

To the beat of the stars’ winter symphony.

Away from the icy ballroom we flew,

Tee da lee dumm, me and my flying shoe.

We went for a visit to Ms. Sarah Tott,

Who had her abode in a large teapot.

 

She lived with a giraffe named Gregg,

Who wore striped socks on each leg.

He was purple, and wore a checkered bowtie,

And, he was quite prone to weep and mournfully sigh.

Ms. Sarah Tott had stars for eyes,

Merrily, merrily, would they cheekily twinkle.

Her roundness and red cheeks gave an appearance of a large cherry,

(And that’s what she was! Me oh my)

And there was none merrier than she.

 

After tea and crumpets, my flying shoe and me,

With a toodle pip and hey diddly dee.

Bid a fond farewell to Ms. Sarah and Gregg,

The latter of which, at our departure, sighed most mournfully.

Off into the clouds, we rose and flew,

Me and that splendid, splendid shoe.

Then, as I woke up in my bed, yawning and stretching,

Something at the foot of my bed caught my eye.

One lone shoe, worn and wind-tossed,

Stood there, as if it had been adventuring through the night.