PLEASE CHOOSE ME

The Sunday Muse #85

My word, the weeks fly by, don't they?

Once again The Sunday Muse comes around.

I thought this prompt was very appealing so I just thought I would let the little kitten speak for itself

Thank you Carrie for this great prompt.

PLEASE CHOOSE ME

Photography by Guy Kawasaki

Please choose little me.

I hope you will agree.

I'm sort of cute and fluffy

Though I'm also rather scruffy.

Will you adopt me?

Other's have dropped me.

Can I share your home

Where I can freely roam?

You might well be smitten

With me now as a kitten.

I can't promise I will stay

In this form and in this way,

For one day I will grow.

Will you tell me then to go?

I'll still be the same me

Could I stay?  So please agree.

I'll sit there on your lap

And have a long, long nap.

While you gently stroke my fur

And I will gently purr.

If you don't show me rejection

I'll give you my affection

And bring to you a mouse

or a bird into your house.


Please choose little me
I hope you will agree.

Eddie Bluelights

7 December 2019

To reach The Sunday Muse please press HERE

WHY DO ZEBRAS HAVE STRIPES?

This week I am very pleased to participate again in Carrie Van Horn's weekly poetry circle,

The Sunday Muse #39

Image Source

Hey Mate! Why Have We Got Stripes?

One day Zebra A said to Zebra B,

"Let's conclude the debate which we could not agree,

On why we have stripes, and what does it mean?

And why they are there to be clearly seen?"

"The answer", said B, "is simple, of course,

For without them we would look just like a horse!"

Said A, "That is daft and your answer is silly,

Please think and give reasons, you illogical filly!"

"Hmm, maybe it's all about recognition,
Courting and selection and mating ambition,
Imagine a stallion approaching a mare,
Walking with a swagger and a lusty stare."

 'Hey, honey, you're it, I'm in romantic mode!
We have the same stripes and a matching bar code!'"
"At last you have noticed," she said with a stutter,
As she brushed his fetlock and her eyelids did flutter.'"

Said A, "That's just plain nonsense and you well know it!
If you have any brain cells, wise up now and show it,
Us zebras have stripes and they are all the same,
Unlike tigers in Asia, all unique, scientists claim."

"I don't agree and I read it somewhere,
That our stripes are all different, just see over there,
That's Charlie, I can pick him out from the rest
By one little stripe ~ look there on his crest!" 

"An interesting thought, you speak like a tutor,
But our brains are all finite, and not a computer,
There are too many bar codes by far to remember,
With all combinations of each herd and each member." 

"It could be to confuse all those hungry predators

Lions, leopards, cheetahs and hyenas,

"I don't think you're right and my reason for saying,

Is stripes make us stand out, thus assisting the slaying!"

"I think what you say is entirely absurd,
That's why we stay close in a very big herd,
Where we're often safe if we all stick together,
Lions often miss out, if we run hell for leather."

"So the reason I feel it is not camouflage,

For a lion will attack us with wild sabotage.

It is in their breeding and for each hungry pride

They want us for food to fill mouths open wide!"

"Oh don't frighten me with that horrible stuff!

I'm feeling scared and I've had just enough! 

So tell me the reason and just what it is?

I'm keen to get answers for this very old quiz!"

"Research has suggested the stripes may be for

Cooling us down in a high temperature,

Because we are grazing in that very hot sun

Unshaded for ages, while we eat a ton!"

"But non zebra grazers feed hour after hour,
All prey for lions, wanting them to devour.
Impala, Antelope, Springbok, Great Kudu.
With none having stripes ~ ask any Gnu!"

"And how do stripes work, why should they cool?
What is the reason? and what is the rule?"
'A' said to 'B' that he'd work hard and try,
 To answer that riddle, to explain how and why.

"Heat strikes the black in a different way,
To the white all day long on a very hot day.
Where white meets black it causes an eddy,
Resulting in cooling, making us feel less heady."

"That may be so but I really don't buy it!
I think my solution is better, just try it!
It's all about flies which suck blood when they bite us,
And not camouflage, or lions that fight us!" 

"It could be infections from blood sucking flies,
Biting us as we graze, wanting us as a prize.
They could spread disease which would make us quite ill,
With a very good chance they might even kill!"

"Experiments show that for black and white types,
The flies are attracted, but not when in stripes!
When striped there's confusion and flies will not settle
So to bite and drink blood will not test their mettle!"

"So that is the way us zebras evolved.
It may be the answer to that old problem, solved.
But does this really prove 'stripes evolution',
And is it accepted as the true solution." 

"Darwin was puzzled and had no idea

about this conundrum, he was very unclear.
The fact is that for the last two hundred years
There is no solution, or so it appears!"

"All this may be rubbish as ideas we plod,
It could be the creator, let's call him God.
He may like our stripes and made us this way,
For he's King after all, and has final say!"

* * * * * * * * * 

Eddie Bluelights

20 January 2019

Research to this problem is still on-going  and scientists are baffled.

To reach Carrie's website at the Sunday Muse please press HERE




I recently joined The Sunday Muse and just missed out on Muse #36 which I found interesting so I have written something HERE

YELL SOUNDS, SHETLAND

Another test of our flimsy cerebral hemispheres for Tess's weekly prompts for Magpie Tails.  This one MAG233 shows a lonely ship steaming out to sea.  What will this conjure, I wonder.  Will let you know when I start writing.

Yell Sounds, Shetland, 2014, by R.A.D. Stainforth

Steaming Somewhere

Shetland stationed ship 'sets sail', steaming silently seaward, steering south, skipping several submerged shipwreck sites, slicing smooth settled shimmering spacious salty seas. 

Stormy sunset skies shine serenely, shadowing shady sloping sun soaked shores, somehow silhouetting spectacular segmented silver sea/sky systems.

Surrounding shores, Sweinna Stack, Sim Skerry, Sand Skerry, Samphrey show stupendous scenery, speaking surreptitious secret sagas, saluting steaming ship.

Sunbeams scatter, screaming seagulls swoop, sea salmon shoals swim, self satisfied scruffy sailors sing, shrewd skipper steers ship safely, spying shingled saturated shellfish shores.



She sells sea shells on the sea shore.
The shells she sells are sea shore shells, I'm sure.


I was 'sunk' on this one for a long time!



Why not have a go at Magpie Tales . . . . it's fun, that's why I do it.  

But you may be a poet and don't know it.


  

THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND HELL

What a title!!

What's all is this about?

Oh, it's the latest prompt from Tess for Magpie Tales

MAG223

The Marriage Of Heaven And Hell . . . by Keith Haring, 1985

An Unlikely Wedding

One day I received a strange invitation,

sent to each soul, to every nation.

It was a bit weird, bizarre and unclear;

the concept and reason behind that idea.

The forthcoming wedding, my eyes did befell,

t'was a picture of nuptials twixt heaven and hell.

I could not believe my wide bulging eyes

and asked if this notion might prove to be wise.

Allowing for lust, maybe love, yes of course,

such union must end in a speedy divorce,

for all points relating to this sanctioned wedlock

are bound to end fast in conflict and deadlock.

Just who the bride is no-one can tell.

Is she from Heaven, or maybe from hell.

The groom; he we might speculate also.

Does he have horns, or wears he a halo?

And just who would give his offspring away?

Would he be darkness, or be he bright as day?

And who would be chosen to bless that ring?

And what kind of hymns would be chosen to sing?

Some guests would like it much more to be hot,

whilst others, more righteous, would most certainly not.

Some would be happy playing harps at great heights,

but to others this would give them such terrible frights.

When asked at the service if they had some objections

to this marriage, all said yes; there were no exceptions.

So it is  not be clear how this marriage occurs;

live in sin is the option that each person prefers.

And imagine when guests did get to the feast;

in-laws might squabble from the most to the least.
And no-one knows what they might say in their speech
and just what advice the bride's dad may beseech.

And what would the angels just happen to say?

Elect ones and demons, they would hardly play. . . . 
They might have a chat when before they decided,
a third  of them fell from the two thirds divided. 

Eddie in his Pope mobile striving to hold back the forces of evil

Well that was a bit different.  What a strange idea for a painting, wasn't it?

Why not have a go at Magpie Tales 

QUEEN NEFERTITI

Another prompt for Magpie Tales by Tess.    MAG230

Nefertiti's Bust - Neues Museum of Berlin 

Prompt by Tess Kincade,  Magpie Tales

Nefertiti - Queen of Egypt

Oh Nefertiti, most exalted Queen of Egypt;
Lady of mystery and Mistress of drama.
Thou favoured wife of Pharaoh Arkhenaten.
Thy name, "The one of beauty has arrived",
Doth herald fame to shout it aloud from time's recorded annals. 

Thy history abounds, untarnished like tell-tale embers,
glowing still from that most charismatic Dynasty. 
A time when Egypt bloomed with untold riches,
A time of power and might unequaled through the ages
A time thine heavy crown was held aloft with pride. 
Where art thou now?  Perhaps not quite immortal.

Thou ascended from the void to become a glowing star;
the other binary, to rule with power beside thine Pharaoh.
Such beauty was not seen before, nor yet repeated.
Three and thirty centuries have not eclipsed thy glory.
Thy distant Earthly dwelling remains a sharp, 
well focused reminiscence to haunt our hearts.

Those twelve years thou dreamed up Monotheism
with that most renegade of kings, Arkenaten.
Six daughter suns were born to thee oh mighty queen.
Yet we see thee fall from heaven like a shooting star. 
For no son is born to thee, and no male successor comes.
Instead we see the boy Tutankhamen rise to glory . . . 

. . . . . not from thy womb,  oh queen, but by a lesser wife, Kira, and sired by Arkhenaten, and thou art lost for ever . . .

. . . . . to meet the real and mighty Monotheistic God.

Looks as though someone has 'nibbled' her ear  . . .  hehe!


(I found some interesting facts about Tutankhamen's life which includes mention of his father Arkhenaten and Nefertiti, plus their unpopular changes to religion - also A and N were cousins and Tutankhamen, by Kira, married one of his six half sisters.  Lots of inbreeding around that time.)  

Why not join Magpie Tales and try a poem.
It's great fun

FURY IN MOTION

O Worship The Harley!

Behold this regal masterpiece of classical tradition;

fashioned by genius – a pinnacle of man’s inventiveness.

My countenance conveys such majesty, such strength, such beauty;

crafted as if by gods, and not mere mortal men of flesh.

Showers of praise and accolade rain and drench my person.

My mighty chest doth swell and overflow with worthy pride.

Consider then my purpose and exceptional design;

a powerhouse so supreme all others fall prostrate before me.

For while I but sleep, I am the object of awe and fascination.

How could mere mortals fashion such devastating perfection?

What miracle doth inspire such thoughts to cause my very being,

as if the gods themselves had willed and crafted my divine creation?

Beneath my face of steel, reflecting light in flight before me,

there lies a noble heart; a symphony of mighty moving parts,

which when conducted, will awaken and create such terror

that all creation shall know I, and I alone, am the rightful king of princes.

And those mere upstarts, who wouldst dare contest my reign,

Are not mine heirs but false pretenders to my throne.

Behold, I wake and stir and in season set in motion

all those inward parts of muscle and steel sinew, which

wouldst cause those fools who dare rival my authority

to bow down one by one and kneel before their king.

I roar! A thunderous bellow of a roar – like a beast possessed.

Yet this is but a prelude to such marvels as my power will fashion.

And now I rise to make the very air surrender to each blast of fury.

Hot gas and blood explode from deep within my furnace,

as each deep-throated roar progresses to my next astonishment.

Yet my engine doth but idle and my real task not accomplished.

But in due season I shall reveal my true and terrifying majesty –

My pulsating heart and lungs shall spring to life with deafening ferocity.

Claps of heavy thunder blasts cascade to mute all sounds around me,

as my real power engages into drive, propelling me to speedy motion

in a cacophony of canon fire with ever wild crescendo.

Every face transfixed in awe turns in my direction.

I throttle up yet again and shift a gear with omnipotence.

My belly shakes the very air in terror with unquenched fire,

and all before me flee in wonderment and admiration so profound.

I fly;

I fly on eagle's wings and with all my energy so harnessed.

The chilling wind doth strive in vain to cool my raging furnace,

and whatever thrust required of me I shall meet in plenty.

Now hear this, you pretenders, and mere princes who wouldst have my crown:

Get in rank! – you shall not have it for your pedigree will not stand the test of time . . . . .

 . . . . like mine.

Copyright:  Eddie Bluelights March 2009

I am honoured to receive Post of The Week award from Hilary at The Smitten Image, 6th August 2014.  
Thank you Hilary, and congratulations to the other winners.



To see how I became a big strong boy, able to handle this nasty beast click on MAG229

THE FRUIT AND VEGGIE SHOP

Here we go again . . . . another week has flown by. . . .

and another prompt set for us by Tess of Magpie Tales 

    MAG229

The Fruit and Veggie Shop

There once was an old grocery store
which sold nutritious produce galore
It's windows were full.
There was never a lull
in custom to buy more and more.

From outside the windows looked cute,
pitching every conceivable fruit.
Yet inside showed greens;
  Sprouts, peas and beans
and large cabbages -  whatever might suit. 

There were big ripe firm red tomatoes
And sackfuls of all kinds of potatoes
and all kinds of rices
at very good prices

And even some nice ripe avocados.

I can still hear my Mum saying clear,
 "Eat your veggies and fruit like a dear,
They'll make you grow strong,
And your life will prolong
And make you be kind and sincere!"


That's shallot . . . . 
. . . . well I could have said onion but that would have made you cry!

( hm! . . . . I wonder if Mum was right!)

Some people are surprised and touched by my use of the word "sincere".  Well, it was the only word to mind that seemed to scan and rhyme with "clear" and "dear" . . . . ROFL 




Why not have a go at poetry and join Magpie Tales HERE



__________________________________________



I don't feel I have done the Grocery Store full justice so I have done another piece in Broad Shakespearean 
about how great this guy feels he is:

Click FURY IN MOTION to meet Harley, the beast 
. . . .  if you dare!!!  

. . . . and bring a crash helmet . . . . we're going for the ride of your life!!

THREADBARE

Another Prompt for Magpie Tales, set by Tess, MAG228

Stair prompt by Tess Kincade



THREADBARE

Just like their crumbling disintegrating covering,
those risers and treads in my life craved rejuvenation.
For I was threadbare, worn out and tired; 
in need of a refit and a wanting a shot in the arm. 
More iron in my blood to resuscitate my soul;
a new coat of paint and therapy to those injured frayed nerves.
My mind craved once more that youthful spring in my step,
and longed for that insatiable unquenchable fire in my belly.


That well trodden stairway of life eluded me for a while.
Yet sweet cherished flashbacks always invaded my mind,
never ceasing to rekindle memories from a former age.
A time when I tore up those steps two at a time,
and carried the love of my life, as though just a feather.

Alas, she no longer is with me now, 
for she has faded from view like a faint evening star.
She lives far beyond my reach in a new dimension;
for she has climbed her own winding stairway to Heaven,
where nothing is threadbare and perfection rules supreme.
At her direction new life was breathed into my spirit,
and the angels injected hope and happiness back into my life.


* * * * * * * * 


I have been writing to these weekly prompts for  6 weeks and sometimes find to very difficult to get an idea. It is very good discipline writing to order and not waiting for inspiration, which may never come. 

Sometimes I think:

"What on Earth can I write about this time?
I'll have to put on my famous thinking hat . . . "

Ah . . . yes . . . it works every time, just like the famous sorting hat in Harry Potter's school for witchcraft and wizardry: Hogwarts, created by J.K. Rowling.




It's great fun - why not join the group at Magpie Tales 
and have a go? 

THE RELUCTANT FELINE

Another Magpie Tale 

Prompt set by Tess MAG227

Some dude with a cat around 1850s 
Tintype provided by Tess Kincade, Magpie Tales



We sense a coming nightmare; a holocaust.
This cloned nonet recoils in unison. 
All nine predict blood and imminent danger.
All nine stand resolute together, 
unified by razor sharp sixth senses.
All nine know within their souls,
. . . .  this is not a place we want to be.

Nine lives think as one and cannot all be wrong;
for we are unanimous in fear, that rarest of perceptions,
which speaks and warns that something is far amiss. 
A man like you, who cannot face the light,
is dark by nature and is no friend of mine.
I can see it all, etched deep within in your soul; 
. . . . unbridled, abounding cruelty! 

My mind shows an image of self preservation.
My tail is up and my back is arched,
 and I sound a feline warning to you.
Back off - I do not trust your face! 
I do not like you!
You scare me!
 . . . and I cannot stay in this darkness.

All my senses rebel, as if you are anti-matter.
 I panic as I scratch and claw my way to freedom.
I cannot remain with you, for you are pure evil,
and I know if I stayed even a heartbeat in time
. . . . . . you would kill or harm me.

You must remain here alone, 
framed in time and space for eternity.
And in due season I must die, 
one by one with my other lives.

. . . . or fail, and become an everlasting tormented hologram.


* * * * * * * * * 


I had to think long and hard about this one to find an idea and a starting point.



For those who did not see my last poem and would like to please click PATIENCE MAG226

PATIENCE . . . BE PATIENT. . . . WHILST YOU PLAY PATIENCE

Magpie Tales 

strikes again

This week Tess Kincade sets our topic for MAG226

Is this just a game of Clock Patience? 

. . . . . or is this not quite as it seems?

A Game of Patience, 1937, Meredith Frampton

She plays out her cards, yet the key aces are not there, 
and she does not know where she can find them. 
Her eyes lack fulfilment and reveal a look of sorrow,
for destiny has dealt her such a lonely hand.

Alone she sits in contemplation, 
willing a daydream;
craving excitement, desiring adventure, 
wanting a connection with someone's soul.
A man in her life who can challenge her,
make her come alive and make her feel like a woman.
A man who can satisfy all the secret longings of her heart,
A man she can find only in her dreams.

She sees him in her mind and wishes he were real, 
She can see him whenever she wants.
He is standing right now not far from her
. . . . .  the King of the pack, embedded in her soul.