Notable, a Logical Encounter


Notable, a Logical Encounter

A tourist walked into a nice restaurant and was escorted immediately back to the door.

“We’re full up.”

“Can I get something to go?”

“What? See, we’re a restaurant. No fast food joint. Didn’t you see the sign?”


“The sign in the window.  The maître d’ almost smiled, “You must be new on the street.”

“There’s a sign?”

“Yeah, right, now it’s for sure, you’re a noob.”

They go out to the sidewalk and there in the window is a well made, hand-lettered sign, Notable.

“There’s no space.”


“You need to insert a space.”

“You kidding me? Then we’d have to buy more tables.”


© Lemuel

27 April, 2018

Daily prompt




Cur Doggerel


Cur Doggerel

Some have openly claimed

and will remain unnamed.

To charge a person of our esteemed Salon—

(Oh, sacred Muses be swift, now intervene),

Composes hack poems from midnight till past dawn—

(So quickly sharpen the rusty guillotine).

Brusk poesy hardly so refined, void of grace, a “spewed fit”

Poetry so crude and burlesque, in pain, like being dog bit.

If so-call poems were likened to a stream, no images of burbling brook

Such worthless pratter would be a gutter full of putrid, infested muck.

If it were a dog, then a mutt, a nameless breed

Unrefined rhyme, senseless, no pleasant creed.

Those scribbles could be parsed

As scrawl, pariah, wild, or worse.

If classification were a task to be described,

illuminate mindless jibber, the naughty implied.

Digressions inhabit every line within failed couplets

patter rhythm, base humor, and scores of murky subjects.

However one may slice it–

chop, mince, or finely dice it;

Fair words in all pleasant company, so proper to say

This mash n’er resemble poetry—in no-dog-gone way.

These are barks and howls

All threatening growls

Not poems by any measure, is the just charge

Merely more cur doggerel, writ very large.

© Lemuel

26 April, 2018

Daily prompt: Cur


Frigid, a Second-helping



“That’s fifteen points, Frigid, F-R-I-G-I-D; righty.” Louise was way too perky a winner.

The other players shivered with cold blank stares.

Strip Scrabble, whose idea was that?

Louise needed to lose her fuzzy hat and her Simpsons mittens.



11 April, 2018


Frigid, a Second-helping

Frantic Pet Peeve



I have a pet peeve. My right eyelid itches or a trembles at certain not-so-convenient times.

The crisis occurs a few moments after I plunge my hands into soapy cleanser or when I begin a greasy goo-covering task, it is then my right eye cover kicks up a twitch.

“I feel a disturbance in the face.”

My eyelid is frantic to be soothed. It feels weird to speak of part of my body as somehow removed from me, but my right eyelid seems to have a mind of its own. When I ignore the facial tug-of-war the results have been strange to witness.

One afternoon I was hip deep peeling and de-seeding tomatoes for a familiar recipe. The usual-suspect went into a mini-tremor then escalated into a full -fledged line dance across my face. I madly washed my hands and dried them for this was a true emergency, yep, my eyelid said so. I tried to gently shush my face-quake.

“Let me say, I was not put on this earth to sing Soft Kitty to my eyelid.”

My hands were not sufficiently free of tomato residue so some of the acid crept into my eye. A lot of rinsing later I finished preparing the tomatoes.

I have a new plan when I have messy jobs. When I begin a messy job I wear gloves. Somehow I feel I have out-flanked my right eyelid.

“Now, left ankle I’m looking at you, do not try my patience.”




Micro a Small Consideration


“Micro” for being such a small word it packs a lot of power. It is an adjective for so many nouns it boggles the mind. It’s a prefix for almost any noun imaginable. Micro has limitless flexibility for building new nouns as needed relating to the extremely really ‘tiny’.

As a verb “micro-ing” might catch on but never at an all-you-can-eat buffet. “Just go micro,” no haute cuisine thrill there.

Fans often shout, “Go big or go home,” to show our team loyalty or almost as often at spelling bees; never,  “Go micro, shish-boom-bahh.”

I remember when people spoke of getting “small” after inhaling a lot of smoke.  I heard comparative talk about how small these individuals thought they were, “I’m so small, I’d fall through the joint in the floor.”

“That’s crack in the floor.”

“No, man, that’s another head, dude.”

Micro also has the connotation for exquisite or careful. That’s plastic surgery down to the micro scale, very fine, very careful, no scar. Nice and refurbished and looking good.

After working the nouns all day Micro rings up Nano and they go out on the town for big fun and macro-relaxation.

Go big or go home.



Identical, an Ocean Poem



I hear the ocean in a shell,

Alike but not identical.

I sniff the ocean in a shell;

It’s not the same wet salty smell.

I wade knee deep in the warm-gray-soupy water,

And race back to the beach when I spot a floater.

I feel the sea, the powerful motion

And play dodge-shark–this is the real ocean.



Please credit me and this blog when you use my intellectual property. It’s good to know other people can see something, good or not so much, in what I make.


Faceless in Modernity


I scan and bag my own groceries. I pump my own fuel, pay both with plastic. I consult with my Doc over a medical link.  I pay up-front with plastic before she appears on my screen.

The closest person to me on Friday was the teller at the drive-through. I received a lollipop and a receipt was emailed to me. Is the lollipop a bribe, quid pro quo?

“We’re the bank with the best lollies.” Nope, it is classical conditioning –mind control.

I have been quietly trained to not have much contact with other people. I like a good algorithm and applied statistical forecasting as much as the next person still I miss chating-up the toll booth matron.

My world is full of faceless commercial interfaces, regiments of robo-calls, and spasms of spam, utilities now estimate my usage and deliver an e-bill.

On Thursday I met friends for coffee. The shop has free wi-fi. Lots of mumbling and faceless face time. I like to sketch whilst sipping hot bean-water and sharing quiet fun with chums.

Even when I go regularly to a group meeting it is mostly anonymous. Get in, get done, and get out, benign and superficial. GPS helps me find my vehicle.

Then Saturday morning I had a cell phone call from a number I didn’t recognize.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. You okay? Checking up on you.”

I reckon I’m not as faceless as I may think. Someone missed my face in the crowd.



Do Not Provoke the Chickens


sign do not provoke the chickens 2

The small print on the sign reads:

“Provoked chickens go off their feed.

When they go off their feed they stop laying eggs.

Then I lose revenue.

The banks foreclose; I’m turned out, homeless, penny-less, on the dole even, whilst you and your mates had a lark frightening chickens.

Since I will have lots of time on my hands I will find you.

You will beg for mercy, there will be none.

I will go all Liam Neeson on you.

I promise it will be bad, very bad, the worst ever.*

Please, for the love of all that is civilized,

Do Not Provoke the Chickens.”


*Cleaning chicken coops.


 c 2018.