Raindrop
It started with a single raindrop
Plop, kerplunking, pitter, pat
That pooled in puddles deep and wide
Beside a dark and dewy thicket
Cricket chirping fades to droning
Moaning thunderous storm clouds loom
Soon the tempest bellows in
It started with a single raindrop.
kat ~ 17 September 2016
Another circular poems for Jane Dougherty’s Poetry Challenge. I decided to give this one its own post. 😊
a new ball of yarn
to toss, tangle and unwind
“’tis bliss,” hissed the cat!
kat – 17 September 2016
A haiku for Sonya’s Three Line Tales based in this photo by Philip Estrada.
How could I forget my favorite Friday haiku challenge?! Lunacy has definitely taken hold of me!
Friday’s Dictionary.com Word if the Day was “Overweening”. How this word came to be n the mid-1300’s is a bit confusing. If you look at the verb ween which means “to think; suppose” or “to expect, hope, or intend” you might assume that “overweening” means to over think something or perhaps to have overly high expectations. That makes sense, right?
But you would be wrong! The word overweening means to be conceited or arrogant. What?!
The Etymology Dictionary offers this historical note:
Overweening (adj)
mid-14c., from present participle of verb overwenen “be conceited, presume, be presumptuous, be over-confident,” from Old English oferwenian “to be proud, become insolent or presumptuous;” see over- + ween.
Well, maybe I should have a look, I thought…
ween (v.)
“be of the opinion, have the notion” (archaic), Old English wenan “to fancy, imagine, believe; expect, hope,” from Proto-Germanic *wenjan “to hope” (source also of Old Saxon wanian, Old Norse væna, Old Frisian wena, Old High German wanen, German wähnen, Gothic wenjan “to expect, suppose, think”), from *woeniz “expectation,” from PIE root *wen- (1) “to wish, desire, strive for” (see Venus). Archaic since 17c
At this point I could check out Venus as directed. But this, my friends, is how one gets caught up in an endless cyber-loop of links and pings. Suffice to say the name of Venus is also derived from the root “wen” and has to do with desire.
All of this searching only adds to my confusion. How does being over-hopeful translate into being conceited or arrogant. It’s a mystery.
Though modern geeks apparently got the memo and applied a new version to the original. In computing terms according to techtarget.com, when referring to online chat groups, a “Weenie” is “an avid but immature participant who disrupts orderly conversation. According to cyberlorist Eric Raymond, a weenie is “typically, a teenage boy with poor social skills traveling under a grandiose handle derived from fantasy or heavy-metal rock lyrics” whose contributions are liable to consist of “marginally literate and profanity-laden flaming.
However, I must warn you that the word can also be a compliment for a highly qualified programmer or a derogatory title for a UNIX “bigot”. Context is key to determining the difference. Confused yet?
Sometimes it’s best not to overthink something. In this case I just need to take the 14th century’s word for it. Overweening is an adjective that describes an arrogant, conceited person. Period. Here then, is my haiku:
He’s a narcissist
an overweening tyrant
thinks they all love him!kat – 17 September 2016
Oh, surely I knew
you’d be trouble when we met.
Yet, despite every warning
mornings have never been as sweet,
complete, as they are with you.
True, you had me at first glance,
chance tossed our souls
whole into passion’s fire.
Desire never fading,
jading me against anyone new…
too late now to let you go.
Oh, surely I knew!
kat – 16 September 2016
I blame this sappy Circular poem on the full, harvest, penumbral lunar eclipsing moon this afternoon. 😉 I jest. It is actually written in response to Jane Dougherty’s Poetry Challenge to write a Circular Poem on circles, cycles, seasons, life. (A circular poem is written by repeating the first line again at the end, and along the way, having the last word of each line rhyme with the first word of the next).
About this poem…Having fallen for a few “wrong” types in my life, I have learned that I am painfully hesitant when it comes to making things right and moving on. I get caught in a spiraling spin, in, then out, then back in love with the wrong person who feels so right! Of course I am an expert at justifying each lapse. I can only imagine how many breaths I’ve wasted! But some memories do make for good stories. Also, I must say, I’ve learned about people, and most importantly, about myself through each ill-fated encounter.
At any rate. Enjoy. The moon will be phasing into its eclipse soon. I’m thinking perhaps I should stay away from the keyboard! 🙂 (or maybe I best stay glued to it! Who knows what lunacy lurks on a day such as this! :))
Another installment inspired in part by this lovely painting by Casper David Fredrich and Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge.
Seasoning – Part 10
“Well, I’m off to pack! Breakfast was wonderful Hannah!”
“My pleasure ma’am.” Hannah forced a smile until Helen left the room. She glanced at Helen’s list of duties. It included daily as well as additional tasks specific to each day of the week. It was exactly what Hannah expected. Her mother had prepared her well.
She cleared the table and washed the dishes, grateful for the work that laid ahead. The whirlwind of the past few days had nearly undone her, but Hannah was determined.
She gathered the broom and duster and headed into the parlor. Hannah liked to dust. It gave her a chance to examine the valuable trinkets and photographs that lined the mantle and shelves in regal homes such as this. The things people collect, and the photographs that they display, often tell hidden stories that are never mentioned in polite conversation.
There were a number of jade figurines, flanked by beautifully ornate faberge eggs on the mantle. A floor to ceiling corner cabinet contained more treasures: a China tea set, several carved tiny boxes and a silver service. Hannah was so enthralled with the interesting array of knickknacks that she didn’t notice the absence of family photographs.
There were only two framed prints on the mantle, an early photograph of the house and one of the garden. She was mesmerized by the garden photograph. Even in black and white, there was no denying the vibrant splendor of the garden. The broken arbor that she had noticed the day before was beautiful and strong, cloaked in climbing vines. Hannah leaned in. “Mmm, I wonder if that’s wisteria…”
“Ah, you’ve found a photograph of our garden back in its day. Shows you what that old yard of weeds can be, with a bit of attention!” Helen entered the parlor, her coat draped over her arm and suitcase in tow. “The taxi should be arriving soon. Do you have any questions before I leave Hannah?”
“Just one. Is that wisteria covering the arbor?”
Helen laughed, “Oh my, I can see that I’m leaving the garden…and our family home in very good hands! It is wisteria. My mother’s favorite.”
“Mine too.” Hannah beamed.
“The taxi has arrived. Please tell the driver to help me with my bags.”
Hannah rushed past Helen to greet the driver. “Hello sir. Come in please. We have some luggage.”
Helen winked at Hannah as she followed the driver out the door. “My brother has a hard shell Hannah, but he’s a good egg. Give it time, you’ll see.”
Hannah sighed, smiling to herself as she leaned against the door. Ideas were swirling around in her head. She rushed past the parlor through the breezeway and out the back door to the garden.
Hannah stood in the middle of the brush taking it all in, “Tomorrow. Yes! Tomorrow my green friend, you and I will get to know one another!”
She returned to the house to finish her chores and plan dinner. “This is an important night.” she told the broom as she swept the entranceway. “As you know, we need to impress Mr. Chambers.” Hannah smiled, confident that she would crack that egg!
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Read Parts 1-9 HERE.
like mercury colliding... 