The Insomnia Blues

2am and I’m awake
Anxiety and dread I cannot shake

2am and I can’t sleep
From the rest of the world I hear not a peep

2am: Is that the bewitching hour?
Maybe I should get up and step in the shower

2am and I’m turning and tossing
Is this what I get for forgetting to flossing?

2am and the cat’s watching me
Maybe I should get up and at least try to pee

2am and Hubby sleeps soundly
Sometimes I get jealous, profoundly, yes profoundly

2am and the room is too hot
I kick in frustration at all the blankets I got

2am and now it is freezing
Oh great! Now I’m having a fit of some sneezing

2am and I give up on resting
I’ll work on my novel and consider it a blessing.

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Whimsical Wednesday: On Friendship

My whimsical guest today is the fantastic mystery author Polly Iyer! Take it away Polly…

ON FRIENDSHIP

When Webster wrote his dictionary,
and Roget wrote his Thesaurus,
they had in mind to educate,
in a way so’s not to bore us.

They wrote on Music, Art and Beauty,
each harder to define,
on Hate and Joy and Motherhood,
on Thou and Bread and Wine.

The definition so hard for me,
and one I can’t defend,
is how they tend to miss the point,
when describing what’s a friend.

The meaning of that simple word,
they wrote more than one way.
but I’ve my own description
to relay without delay.

A friend is tried and true of heart,
a platonic kind of love.
One who takes you as you are,
and who you’d fart in front of.

All Rights Reserved

Polly Iyer

When Cindy asked me for a poem, I thought back to one I wrote a while back. I’ve been blessed to have many friends and even more blessed to have those friendships span decades. My book Murder Déjà vu has, of course, a murder and a mystery, but it also has a deep friendship―one that is forged between two men in prison. Though my poem is on the light side, the friendship in the book is made of darker stuff. How much would you sacrifice for a friend? Would you give your life? Would you take one?

Polly Iyer is the author of four mystery/suspense novels on Amazon: HOOKED, InSight, MIND GAMES, AND MURDER DÉJÀ VU.

You can read more about her books on her website at http://PollyIyer.com

 

The Best Things in Life

These are the words that fill me with glee:
It’s free!

The Charleston Art Walk is one such occasion
They offer us art, oreos and oblations
And it’s free!

Walking around town is another possibility
Gives my middle-aged waistline its needed stability
And it’s free!

The public library is marvelous indeed
Lots of fun programs and good stuff to read
And it’s free!

Listening to the cat purr does marvelous wonders
Aligns all the cosmos that tend to go asunder
And it’s free!

Can you think of others? I’d like to know
Add them to the comments and watch the freebies grow

Poetry in Odd Places

What in tarnation!
A second poem about castration?
You might be thinking, “Oh, brother
How, oh how, could there possibly be another?

The poem from April first had a different theme
A medieval love affair was its basic scheme
But this here poem’s inspired by “My Cat From Hell
A TV show I think is really swell

Jackson Galaxy is a cat behaviorist
On neutering your pets he strongly does insist
In last night’s show two episodes explored
This neutering theme, not to be ignored

And the cats were better off, trust Jackson on this
The critters went from misery to happiness and bliss
So you see? Poetry can be found in castration
And aren’t we all glad I’m done with this creation?

Writers Police Academy – Real life crime things

This past weekend I was at the Writers Police Academy–a conference where we mystery writers get to learn what real cops do. I have never spent so much time thinking about decomposing bodies. Here are a few shots (No real bodies, I promise).

A big gang of us on our way to hunt for the “shallow grave.”

We found it! Check out the dummy’s hand.

Lee Child and Marcia Clark were pretty intrigued, too.

Here’s a shoot out with the bad guys. No, we weren’t allowed to pet the dog, but he sure was cute!

And as if that weren’t enough for one week, I’m heading to the Writer’s Police Academy tomorrow for a fun-filled weekend learning about what real cops do. It’s a hands-on workshop, which means I will most definitely make a fool of myself. I’ll post some pics as soon as I’ve blundered my first pretend investigation.

Not for the Faint of Heart

A poem about the weekend chores
I’m warning you ahead
This little ditty details
Cleaning out the shed

Why did we save this thing?
What use can it possibly serve?
I’m going to throw it out now
I’m getting up the nerve

Hubby holds up a trowel
Encrusted in who-knows-what
For fear of finding out
I keep my eyes most tightly shut

Two sets of old golf clubs
But honey, I’m confused
Why have we saved those for decades
When they’re never even been used?

And that thinga-ma-jig over there?
Someone gave us at our wedding
I don’t mean to alarm you
But I do believe it’s shedding

Why did I buy this junk?
A full gallon of purple paint
I’m trying to recall the project
But sorry, I really cain’t

That table with a broken leg
The repair was supposed to be easy
But since we’ve misplaced our hammer
The thought of fixing it makes me queasy

Several rolled up rugs
The cat long ago destroyed
Why didn’t we dump these sooner?
Okay, so I’m getting annoyed

But look! We’ve reached our bicycles
Which means we’re almost done
And now with a clear path to the doorway
They might actually see the sun.

Ode to Andy

Over fifty and of big changes I’m thinkin’
It’s enough to drive this old gal to drinkin’

Selling the house and blowing this town
But really, it shouldn’t be getting me down

Hubby and I have a whole new vision
We thought about it lots and reached a decision

The urban life with its downtown delights
No longer seems exactly just right

We talked to the cat, and she agrees too
We’re all ready to try something brand spankin’ new

A move to the country and out to the sticks
We’re already fuddy-duddies, and soon we’ll be hicks

This poem’s title might have you confused
But if Andy were reading, he’d be rather amused.

Julia Child I Ain’t

Years of trying but it never took
The fact remains I hate to cook

Given my druthers on what I prefer
To others my stove, I would gladly defer

Not that I can’t cook and bake
I make a to-die-for chocolate cake

Hubby likes that cooking stuff
Elaborate prep? He can’t get enough

Peaches for cobbler he is blanching today
and he’s roasting some garlic in a dish made of clay

Some sort of pasta sauce he is apt to prepare
With graters and blenders he has quite a flare

So to his heart’s delight my hubby cooks
Meanwhile me? I’ll be writing my books