Thursday, August 28, 2014


    Photo by Mary Bach

When we meet I am always amazed -
Each time you and
I seem to mesh, to complete one another,
resplendent in the sun and the fun of our uniqueness, yet together a
dynamo of strangeness and largess, suddenly no longer repressed, able to express our


Mama Zen over at the Imaginary Garden asked us toads to write about being weird.  So, this is my weird offering, dediated to my weird friend Lori, who visited recently from her home in Macau.  

Monday, August 18, 2014


     Yell Sound, Shetland by R. A. D. Stainforth

Climb aboard!
We sail away today,
over oceans deep and wild and wide,
out, and out, league after league toward the horizon
under endless slate grey skies, rain-kissed,                                  
cloud-tumbled, sun-pierced or
And all we know recedes,
all the firm, green predictable things
recede as we traverse over oceans toward
the strange terrain of dream and fable.
Unknown wonders await;
climb aboard!

The picture is complements of Magpie Tales.  The form is from Imaginary Garden w/ Real ToadsIn its simplest form, the Triquain consists of seven lines, with syllables counted in multiples of 3.
3 - 6 - 9 - 12 - 9 - 6 - 3
The trick thereafter is in deciding how many of these stanzas you want to use.  There are several described, and I chose one called   Triquain Swirl.  This is created by joining the stanzas together on the seventh line, eliminating the second 3 syllable line and the space between stanzas. The finished stanza will stand at 13 lines and may be repeated thereafter.
3 - 6 - 9 - 12 - 9 - 6 - 3 - 6 - 9 - 12 - 9 - 6 - 3 
Also, one can include an element of repetition in the Swirl by taking a 3 syllable word or phrase from one of the longer lines and using it as the final 3 syllable line of the stanza or at the bridge of the swirl. 

Sunday, August 3, 2014

When Cowgirls Git Over Their Blues

    Elizabeth Taylor, set of "Giant" by Frank Worth

Life’s a rodeo
life’s a desert
life’s a sand burr
under yer saddle
life’s a hot stinkin’ sun
burnin’ the back a yer stiff, red neck
life’s a hot, sweaty sonofabitch
full’a bullshit n’ Copenhagen.

Imma rope you up
real good 
And I ain’t talkin’ no
eight seconds.

55 for all the Toads in the Imaginary Garden and all the Magpies at The Mag.