All We Can Do...

Photo credit

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even though I live in Switzerland, about 5,000 miles away from the US, I am an American. 

On Wednesday morning, I was a proud American. Georgians let their voices be heard and Blue prevailed.

By the time I went to bed (Wednesday night), I was a confused, horrified, and ashamed American. 

Powerless. 

Except for my words.

I could only muster a few, but I hope they will help for a few seconds at least:

Hold on
Until the pain
Goes away

©2021, Bridget Magee. All Rights Reserved.

Then maybe hold on some more...

Love, 
Bridget 

Today's Poetry Friday host is Sylvia at Poetry for Children. Join us...

 

Wee Blog Birthday Submission Opportunity

Today is Wee Words for Wee Ones' 10th Blog Birthday!

On 1/1/2011 this wee blog was born:

They grow up so fast...

 

 

 

 

And being that I've always had an affinity for the number 10 because I am the 10th kid of 10 kids in my family (Irish-Catholics, much?) and that I was born in the 10th month (October) I've decided to celebrate my blog's 10th  birthday by putting out a CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS for my 10·10 Poetry Anthology due to be published in October 2021!

Tentative cover art.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The 10·10 Poetry Anthology celebrates 10 in 10 different ways. 

For this independently-published project, I am looking for unpublished, original poems in all forms (written in English) in the following 10 categories/prompts:

tenacity

10 more minutes

ten little fingers/ten little toes

10 points to Gryffindor

tension

I tend to...

tenderness

take 10

I wouldn't touch that with a 10-foot pole

tentative

***

I plan to include 10 poems from each of the 10 categories to end up with 100 poems. 

SUBMISSION DEADLINE: 12 March 2021 (10 weeks from now) 

Successful poets will be contacted by the end of June 2021

WHERE TO SUBMIT: Send:

•  your poem(s)
• an indication of which category it fits
  
• your contact info 
• to me, Bridget Magee at: 10.10.weewords.submissions@gmail.com

PAYMENT: Accepted poems will receive a one-time honorarium of $10/poem upon publication.

My Bio: Behind every cute fingerprint is a strong finger. I have strong fingers. In fact, my fingerprints will be all over this blog and will be all over this anthology. I nimbly completed my MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults from Hamline University where I worked my fingers to the bone before starting my writing career. When not writing or teaching, my fingers can be found holding the book I am currently reading. I live with my family and crazy dog Smidgey - all of whom have me wrapped around their fingers (and paw). Fingers crossed you'll decide to submit. 

I look forward to reading your top 10 poems. (see what I did there?)

Ruth is hosting the fabulous Poetry Friday New Year's Day party at her blog,  

There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town. Resolve to join us! 

Wee Christmas Story: Gingerbread Zen

Merry Christmas! 

If the year 2020 was a Netflix show it would be described as:

• Quirky (sourdough starters much?)
  

• Brutal (on so many levels)
  

• (at times) Sweet (Biden/Harris won!)
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

My gift to you is a wee Christmas story that could also be described as:

• Quirky (Bob)
  

• Brutal (food gets eaten)
  

• (at times) Sweet (it involves frosting, so yeah)
  

Because, you know, it's still 2020.

(But at least there are some meditative elements.)

So pour yourself a cup of whatever will get you through the waning days of the year and enjoy a bit of Gingerbread Zen!

Picture Credit

  “Ho-Ho-Perfecto!  You will be the perfect midnight snack for Santa.”  

Mrs. Claus carefully placed the doughy gingerbread men on 

a cookie sheet. “Into the oven you go, my little Perfectos!”

   “Did you guys hear that? We’re the perfect gingerbread men!”  

    Gingerbread Bob looked around the cookie sheet.  

The other half-baked gingerbread men chanted:

    We’re rolled out flat,

    cut to look like men.

    Soon we’ll be eaten,

    time to get Zen.

    O-o-o-o-o-o-o-m!

    Bob didn’t hear their song.  He was too busy admiring his 

perfection. “Look at my stout legs and thick arms. I am one tough 

cookie!”

    Ding! Once baked and cooled, Mrs. Claus frosted each cookie from 

head to toe.  When it was Bob’s turn, he reveled in the cool creaminess 

of the frosting as it oozed over his smooth terra-cotta skin.  

“This frosting feels perfect,” said Bob.

    “Treats for my sweet!” Mrs. Claus arranged the cookies 

on a plate with Bob on the top of the pile.  

    “Look at me, perfect as can be,” said Bob.

    At midnight a shadowy, round figure entered the kitchen 

shaking snow from his boots.  

“Ho-Ho-Ho! Treats from my sweet!” Santa Claus bellowed.

    Bob wriggled with excitement as Santa carried the plate 

to his comfy spot on the couch. “I’m so excited the big man 

is going to see my perfectly frosted…”

    But the gingerbread men under and around Bob interrupted 

his revelry. They chanted again:

    We’re rolled out flat,

    cut to look like men.

    Soon we’ll be eaten,

    time to get really Zen.

    O-o-o-o-o-o-o-m!

     “Wait, what did you guys say?  We are about to be eaten?”  

    “O-o-o-o-o-o-o-m!” was their reply.

    Bob shook.  A huge hand took the cookie to his left. 

“Eek!” Bob squeaked. 

    A big thumb bumped Bob’s bum as Santa took the cookie to his right. 

Bob yelped, “Help!”

    Then Bob remembered his pan-mates’ mantra and tapped into 

his inner Gingerbread Zen. 

“O-o-o-o-o-o-o-m!” he hummed.

    Santa picked up Bob.  With a twinkle in his eye he said, 

“Ho-Ho-Perfecto! You are the perfect gingerbread man!”

    Bob smiled and embraced his fate.  “I am perfect,” Bob mumbled 

as he crumbled in Santa’s mouth. O-o-o-o-o-o-o-m…GULP.

©2020, Bridget Magee. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 Hosting this holiday Poetry Friday party is a gift 

in the poetry world, Irene Latham.

 

What the Elf?

I don't need to tell you that things are pretty elfed up right now.

Because they are.

For all of us.

But instead of wallowing in the what the elf, I've decided to put my energy into 'Where's the Elf?'.

Meet Elfanza:

 

A sassy imp who jumped ship shelf to help us through this elfing season. Hopefully her antics will make you smile. 

Smiling is her favorite. (and Buddy's, too!)

Elfanza fell for Blue!

 

Then when others went low, Elfanza went HIGH!

She was caught lifting weights being lifted by weights....

...then sinking into the couch post workout.

Unfortunately she ran into trouble when rummaging through a drawer looking for candy...

...then she got stuck in the blender...pour her.

This choice of hiding place just wasn't cool.

Her favorite spot is looking over a picture of a Christmas-past (Colleen and Maureen circa 2004).

 

Today's poem was written for another purpose, but while pilfering looking through my files, Elfanza came across it and decided to modify it to fit her elfing antics. Enjoy!

If I bend, stretch,

coil and twist,

my rear and ear

suddenly kiss.

I'm an elf.

©2020, Bridget Magee. All Rights Reserved.

 

Today's consummate Poetry Friday host is 

the one and only Buffy Silverman! Join the poetry fun!

 

Yay, Snow...Said No Dog Ever.

OK, to clarify, THIS dog would never say such a thing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Smidgey here. I took over Mom's laptop because I have something to get off my chest. 

And back. 

And bottom.

A sweater!

Would you look at me? The humiliation! Horizontal stripes no less! 

I already get comments about my girth waist size and then Mom dresses me in the most unflattering sweater known to man dogs. 

And for what?

Snow! The first flakes of the season.

 

 

You see, I am a bit fur follicle challenged. 

I'm light on fur, but heavy on...uh, well, just heavy. But not heavy enough to be able to frolic in the snow and not get cold. I lived in the desert for most of my life...

 

 

 

 

 ...granted there were coyotes, snakes and scorpions that wanted to kill me, but gosh darn it, I was warm. And my fur follicle challenges worked to my advantage. 

Anyway, this week I got swaddled in soft stripes and paraded around the neighborhood while it snowed. I'm not sure I will ever recover...

...unless there is say, cheese nearby. *drool*

I digress. 

Despite the snow, something good did happen this week. Mom got an email from poet extraordinaire, Laura Purdie Salas that had a really fun poetry prompt in it. (Sshh, don't tell Mom that I know her email password, too.) Laura invited poets to try a Biopoem. Poet-schmoets...dogs can write poems too! So here goes:

Smidgey

squishy, sweet, sleepy, smelly (ahem, using my nose) 

daughter of what my people believe to be a rat terrier and chihuahua 

lover of cheese, cheese, and more cheese

who feels cold without a sweater and humiliated with one

who gives licky kisses, waggy-tailed welcomes, sleepy snores

who fears nothing and everything at the same time (I'm a confusing beast)

who would like to see Colleen again, my people staying home all the time and the insides of my eyelids

who lives in the center of the living room in the center of Switzerland

Dog

©2020, Bridget Magee. Smidgey! All Rights Reserved.

Join the all the Poet-schmoets at A Year of Reading where a super

 cool teacher-poet, Mary Lee, is hosting. 

Rumor has it, there is a book about a dog there...*woof*

Wee Bright (and sweaty) Spot

Unfortunately the internet can be a dark place. With this in mind, I work hard to make my wee blog a bright spot for you to visit.  

Today I am talking about rediscovering of the joy of being light on my feet and getting my groove on! 💃

Being of, *ahem*, a certain age, I thought my dancing days were over. I did gymnastics all the way through my childhood and into college. Here are two pictures of me competing on floor at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, circa 1988:

Split jump!

Back when my hair was brown!

Somehow over the years I've forgotten how much I LOVE DANCING. 

During the lock down in the spring I was looking to spice up my exercise routine instead of just jog, jog, jogging.

Don't get me wrong. I love to jog. I've been doing it for years...In 2016, when we lived in Tucson, I celebrated my 50th birthday by running 10 different 5K runs over the course of the 10 months leading up to my October birthday. (It was an expensive, but fun challenge.)

I do miss warm Tucson winters...

 

I continue to jog here in Switzerland (though 5K races are few and far between...and I'm sure even more expensive!) but I wanted to do other forms of movement, too.

Then my Colleen told me about a YouTube channel: emkfit that publishes weekly dance fitness videos. 

SO FUN! At first I saw that most of the dance exercise videos were around 20 minutes, so I thought, "The perfect quick and fun workout." 

But then I got hooked. 

Now I do about an hour of emkfit videos every day or so. I didn't say I was a good dancer (I am not), but I do have a lot of fun. And my mood always brightens...while I sweat!

Trigger Warning: Here is 9 seconds of me flailing myself happy:

Dancing at home is perfect for a pandemic, for winter weather, and for getting out of your head and finding joy. One more benefit? 12 lbs lost (since April) and counting...

Smidgey, on the other hand, does this while I dance:

Her bright spot is behind her closed eyes.

 

Today's poem is my invitation for YOU to dance with ME!

bop

bip

twist

skip

jump

wiggle

sway

giggle

 

skip

prance

strut

dance!

©2020, Bridget Magee. All Rights Reserved.

Dance on over to Teacher Dance and join Linda who is hosting the Poetry Friday fun!

 

Wee Fungus Amongus

We've had a very cool and wet autumn thus far in central Switzerland. So cool and wet that the mushroom population has exploded - right up to the side of just about every path, not only in the forest.

They are popping up...

...along sidewalks...

 

...in neighborhoods.

And the Swiss love themselves some mushrooms. 

A Swiss man could be described as a "fun-guy"...to gnome one is to love one. 

*Ahem.* 🍄😃

Photo Credit

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 It is a common sight to see people out and about gathering wild mushrooms in baskets or paper bags. But one can not go willy-nilly gathering mushrooms across Switzerland. Oh no, the Swiss also like their rules. (Well, except when it comes to Covid, but that is a post for another day). 

The governing body for mushrooms is: Vereinigung amtlicher Pilzkontrollorgane der Schweiz (Association of Official Mushroom Control of Switzerland) and each individual Canton (state) has its own set of rules. 

Personally, I like mushrooms on my pizza or in my spaghetti as much as anybody, but I am more inclined to buy them at the grocery store where I know they are edible. And I don't have to worry about getting fined!

On a different note, a musical one of sorts, today's wee poem focuses on another valuable aspect of mushrooms:

mushrooms assemble
to orchestrate
a decomposition
©2020, Bridget Magee. All Rights Reserved.

Today's Poetry Friday fun (guys...and gals) can be found at Robyn Hood Black's fabulous Life on the Deckle Edge blog. Join us!