Sunday, December 30, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #149

                                                    Image/ R.A.D. Stainforth

THANK YOU, Tess, at Magpie TalesThanks for all your creativity...Happy New Year, one and all...


I want to open the windows
in every room,
let the stench
of last year's corruption disappear
in a blur of smoke.

I want to suddenly feel
the promise of springtime in January.

I want my children to be underfoot,
my daily sneezing
to be the worst of it.

I want to forgive all art,
to have poetry
dancing through my wits,
to kiss a prince,
have him stay a day or two.

I want to go through the new year
lead by last year's angels,
and if I'm no longer here at the end,
I want to come to you in a dream
and tell you I'm alright.

                                                          Happy 2013  

Copyright/ All rights reserved/ 2012

Sunday, December 23, 2012

WELCOME...Merry Christmas..happy holidays!

Enter and enjoy...can't think of anything nicer than to share some luscious, simple recipes.  I'll do the hors d'oeuvres, the veggies, and the dessert.  You can do the main course!  And the good cheer...

Pears with Blue Cheese and Prosciutto

2 ripe pears, cut into wedges
2 tsps. lemon juice
1 bunch arugula
3 oz. blue cheese, cut into small pieces
6 oz. thin sliced prosciutto
In a bowl, toss the pears and lemon juice.  Layer a slice of pear, an arugula leaf, and a piece of cheese on a piece of prosciutto, and roll up.  Serves 8.
Roasted Vegetables  
1 1/2 lbs. beets, peeled and cut into wedges
1 1/2 lbs. parsnips, peeled and cut into 2" chunks
1 1/2 lbs. baby carrots, peeled.  Leave 1" of tops on
4 tbls. brown sugar
4 tbls. olive oil
2 tbls. apple cider vinegar
1 lb. shitake mushrooms, cleaned and stemmed
Heat oven to 400 deg.  Place vegetables in roasting pan. 
In a bowl, whisk together brown sugar, oil, and vinegar.  Pour over vegetables, toss to cover.
Cook until tender, about 1 hour, stirring halfway.  Add mushrooms last 10 minutes, and toss well, finish roasting.  Season with salt and fresh ground pepper.  Serves 8.
Apricot Crumble

2 sticks unsalted butter, cold, cut into pieces
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup sugar
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
1 egg yolk
1 tsp. vanilla extract
3/4 cup apricot jam
1 tsp. grated fresh ginger.

Heat oven to 375 deg.  Coat an 8 inch square baking dish with 1 tbls. butter. 
In a food processor, combine flour, granulated sugar, brown sugar, baking powder, and salt.  Pulse to combine.  Add remaining butter and pulse till crumbly.  Add egg yolk and vanilla and pulse till mixture just comes together, but is still crumbly.
Take 1/2 cup of dough to a small bowl, cover with plastic wrap and save in refrigerator.  Press remaining dough into baking dish, and push sides up about 1/4 inch around edge.
Combine jam and ginger.  Spread evenly over crust.  Crumble remaining refrigerated dough over the top. Bake until golden brown, about 35 min.  Cool on wire rack for 20 min. before cutting.  Serves 9.

Thanks to Real
        A great holiday to all!

                     RIP...Lee Dorman/ 70/ Sept.15, 1942-Dec. 21, 2012

                                  Iron Butterfly/  In-a-Gadda-da-Vida
copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012


Monday, December 17, 2012

MAGPIE TALES...Prompt #148

                                                                 Photo/ Andy Magee

Thank you Tess, at Magpie Tales.

           Something to share...a bit of good luck.  A really terrific blog, VenusBlogs,  genererally covers "women's issues" in a most creative and enlightened way, asked for permission to post my poem of last week, Magpie Prompt #147, "Lost At Sea".  You bet!! 
           Please check it out....


Follow me to the
end of the world.  Desire me
at the finish line.

Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012

Wednesday, December 12, 2012


                                                        Photo/ New York Times/ 12.12.12


Let's say it's the first day of spring.  At last.  Fifty shades of grey slush are being washed away from New York stoops and sidewalks.  Balmy days are here again.  Well, if you can't bear to see a yellow daffodil popping up in that crack in the sidewalk, have I got a treat for you.

Opening this Spring, and be the first kid on the block to know it, is the Minus5deg Ice Bar.  Winter one more day.  Yay!  Just so you can plan ahead, it's going to be at the New York Hilton.  Can Paris be far behind?

Already in New Zealand, Monte Carlo, Las Vegas, now you can look forward to freezing  your ass off in New York for an extended winter.  All-ice bar, chairs, tables, glasses made of ice.  All the ice to clink in your drink is Canadian.  Glasses frozen in New Zealand.  What, even our ice has to be outsourced?

Ice sculptures inspired by ice.

No food, (not even a frozen TV dinner), just drinks.  $17. for a drink.  The specialty of the house, vodka, at the top of the list if you have fond memories of Siberia.  And to ward off frost bite, you will be given a parka, with faux fur.  And boots.  And a hat.  Upon entering.  Check your stilettos at the door.

Can't wait to see the ladies room.  Penguins in attendance?

Hi, do you come here often?

Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012

Sunday, December 9, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #147

THANK YOU, Tess, at Magpie Tales...


Ulysses sails
the map of my back,
tracing a path
where balmy currents
the Cape of Good Hope.

The Flying Dutchman
set his wrist
to my pulse,
then rushed away
to doom.

Don't fear
the Cape of Storms.
Here is the path
to the covenant,
where sugarbirds
search for nectar,
and patches of lilies
give up their scent.

copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012

Monday, December 3, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #146

THANK YOU, Tess, for Magpie Tales....
Great saints, even Joan and Polycarp,
having doubt at the final bind to the tree,
reach through the burn for the brass ring.
What if heaven's eye opens to darkness,
time is a click, nothing more,
and a name engraved on a stone
is all there is?  Born and died,
a box of days, laid in the earth.
Martyrs sway with their last breath,
hearing a requiem
as they approach the endless blaze,
sputter like twigs,
try to take wing,
find their soul,
grab hold of the savior's hem.
Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012

Sunday, November 25, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #145


                                                      RED CHAIR

THANK YOU Tess, for Magpie Tales


Half demolished,
the house of early days.
shapes without glass,

every breath,
freed from the walls,
now part of the wind.

All I feared
were simply tales,
old wives whistling.

Days of first dreams
now have
the weight of silk, fraying.
Chairs splinter into fossils, 
specters work.

Timid memories
float from my mind.
All phantoms left behind,
asleep in Samsara.

I pick up a key
to swift passage.

Copyright/ All rights reserved/ 2012

Sunday, November 18, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #144

                                                     SQUALL/ 1986/ Andrew Wyeth

THANK You, Tess...for Magpie Tales.


Flung open the door,
grabbed my binoculars,
fine-tuned to the prospect
of bird watching.

No need for
a yellow slicker today,
still wet from yesterday's tempest.

Sun, like weak tea,
paints itself into a corner,
spreading over the crazed wall.

No ships at sea now.
A blameless horizon
backing away,
heading for a smooth current,

leaving the shore
piled high with splinters.
Once had names.

copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Will Barnet

                                                          WOMAN READING/ 1970/ Will Barnet

                                                                      5/25/11- 11/13/12

My muse, a print of this hangs over my desk.  I see it dozens of times a day.  It is always dynamic, pure, full of zest, and life.  This is a portrait of the artist's daughter, reading a book, with the seemingly coziest cat ever.

Will Barnet, known for beautifully stylized portraits, died on Tuesday, November 13, 2012, at his home in Manhattan.   He was 101 years old.


                                                                Photo/ Anthony Brown

Will Barnet, National Medal Of Arts recipient... painter, printmaker, receives Medal from Pres. Obama at East Room ceremony at the White House.  On Feb.13, 2012.

copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012


Sunday, November 11, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #143

                                                  Verdun, 1917/  Felix Vallotton

THANK YOU, Tess for Magpie Tales...


What color dust
have you become?
Did you drink in red
as you were sliced?

Is it soul or skin
that drifts upwards
to add a stain
to the eternal cloth?

I'm the shade of hell,
the mud trench we died in.
You sink into me.

A raven calls the time,
eleven, eleven.
On my back
dead eyes
stare at the azure sky.

Part of forever now,
I'm the blue in the rainbow,
don't search
beyond that
for me.

copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012

Sunday, November 4, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #142

                                 CHARIS/ Lake Ediza, CA./ 1937/ Edward Weston

THANK YOU, Tess, at Magpie Tales.


Weston's Charis shows her face,
and my eyes are pulled
to that pretty gaze,
boys boots, girls tease.
I wonder which,
but then I spot the access,
the exit,
between her legs.

I was born from that canal.
I see the slit,
covered with layers of modesty.

Beneath the rough cloth,
folds of fine silk,
softest porn.

Great artists do more
than one thing at a time.
Manet's Olympia
looks my way,
then dresses to serve
with motherly grace.

Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012

Monday, October 29, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #141

THANK YOU,Tess at Magpie Tales...


nymphs and mermaids all,
able to unlock the ocean
into a Red Sea.

Rolling pebbles
from the foot of the deep,
a thousand years
for a handful of sand.

We'll name a new Nereid,
let her roil and churn,
a spinning tempest,
a debutante sprite,
with a dragon's tongue,

dipping fire,
drinking deeply,
a tango,
a surge.

The traveler,
wrapped in a hurricane,
knows his refuge is the sea.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Fifth Annual Willow Manor Ball

OH, TESS, I just love what you've done to Willow Manor.  You were right, as usual, didn't need more than a dash of whitewashing!  And the moat at night!  Now everyone will want one!  Fabulous, of course!!

OH, this old thing?  So glad you put me in touch with your little dressmaker!  I intend to wear it more than once, something I never's just so cute...I mean FABULOUS!  My date, my charge, my next husband, well who knows?  I try my best but the sweet old thing still keeps confusing me with a chair...see what I mean?
Yes, I do still call him Mr. Eastwood, don't like to overstep my bounds!  He generally calls me, (or the chair) punk, as in "Do you feel lucky, Punk"?   At this point he generally pulls out the chair and in very clipped tones, tells it, "Go ahead, make my day".  Sometimes he says that to me.  At times I have accommodated.  After all, a legend is a legend!  But for the most part, he is a fabulous companion.
How adorable of you and Radical Rad to be giving dance lessons on the terrace!  And no, it's never too late to learn the two-step.  Touch dancing is so fabulous!
Chocolate martinis..if anything will get me to look less like a chair...this could be it!  Cheers, and I'll  let you know about the fabulous results later.  Oh, Mr. Eastwood, I'm right here, next to the chair!!
Some thing's working!  Now Mr.Eastwood is talking to a green girl...."Go ahead, make my day"!  Does he mean me, the green girl, or the chair?   Anyway, we've had a fabulous time.  Tess, no one can throw a ball the way you do!!  See you  next year!!
copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012

Sunday, October 21, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #140

THANK YOU, Tess, at Magpie Tales...


According to Wikipedia, "Novus Ordo Seclorum", words lettered on each dollar bill in Latin, translates into "New Order of the Ages".  Every day this legal tender slips through our hands, through our notice, with poetry.

From the fourth Eclogue of Virgil, (IV:5)

Now comes the final era of the Sibyl's song;
The great order of the ages is born afresh.
And now justice returns, honored rules return;
Now a new lineage is sent down from high heaven.

What you get for a dollar....still possible?

Copyright/all rights reserved/ 2012

A lovely Lady Magpie, dedicated to Tess Kincaid, sent to me because of my affinity for the Prompts, by Dori Hartley, a blogger for Huffington Post.  Who happens to be my daughter.  Thanks, Dori...

Sunday, October 14, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #139


                                     MIDNIGHT SNACK/ 1984/ Curtis Wilson Cost

THANK YOU, Tess at Magpie Tales...


Last night it hummed in the attic,
an idle Nosferatu
who's found a recurring song.

Biting my nails,
spitting fret,
writing a plea
to God or man,
that daybreak will rescue me.

Each and every light
switched on,
enfolds me like armor,
saves me
for tomorrow.

Then I'll invite somebody
to listen with me
to the screech,
whistling from that dim corner.

I desire a moment of embrace,
tendrils of morning fog
hold me close.

An advent of specters
dance around me.

I grasp a hand
cold as one that tosses earth
on an open grave.
I find the returning melody.

Copyright/ all rights reserved/2012

Wednesday, October 10, 2012



Sucking up bathtub spirits,
spitting them out,

mixed bag of stew,
too much hot sauce
disguises the content,
makes it seem, dream,
that my life
has real zest.

Still doesn't turn
into a four star restaurant.

Standing up straight
like a buttoned down shirt,
only my tongue
flaps in the breeze.

Leaves fly by,
shape of zeroes,
same color all year long,
icy blue,
don't change tint
with the seasons.

No color show,
this chance gone.

Wait till next May,
think of a new dance
around the pole.

copyright/all rights reserved/2012

Sunday, October 7, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #138

                                                    SICK WOMAN/ Jan Steen/ 1665

THANKS TO Tess at Magpie Tales...


What's turned her humour
to black bile?
Warped her cold and dry,
bound to earth,
forever in melancholy?

Tulips at the door
from the shy one
with the downward glance.
The wind sighs with her voice.

He begs for courage
to fetch some magic.

Perhaps a unicorn's horn
filled with tears of the stag
who trampled her ardor.

He longs to spill
the Satyr's blood
and wash away the tether.

The bonesetter
who heals fractured maidens
arrives, fills the kettle,
pours a flow into a lucent cup.

Melancholy sits,
she sips white tea,
stirring cinnamon, lemongrass,
a sliver of cardamom from India,
knobby ginger,
and a stain of beetroot
to brush her lips with sunrise.

Copyright/ All rights reserved/ 2012

Sunday, September 30, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #137

                            IT MUST BE TIME FOR LUNCH NOW/ 1979/ Francesca Woodman

THANKS to Tess at Magpie Tales


Like a faux magus,
I've bent spoons for you
with my mind.
Look at me,
starved, waiting.

When called to be present
I ring with pangs of remorse.

Despair bumps and grinds me
to my knees each day,
trickles of crimson
sully the dust.

The villain of the piece,
I'm bleeding,
now wearing
your favorite color,
Scarlet A.

Not yet entitled
to meet eye to eye.

Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012

Sunday, September 23, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #136

                                                       FLYING DOWN/ 2006/ David Salle

Thanks to Tess at Magpie Tales.


My dream vibrates,
won't let me shed it.

As a rule
sunshine melts
the night's exploitation,
thoughts soon fly away
like crafty ravens,
but not those hovering
in the hours
of last night's darkness.

A gilt frame surrounds
my prevailing life.
A two way mirror allows
Freud to peek in
on the old guilt.

I'm a collage,
layers attached
but transportable,
not embarrassed
by my naked derriere.
Dreams intact.

Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012

Sunday, September 16, 2012

MAGPIE...Prompt #135

                                     VENUS AND THE SAILOR/ 1925/ Salvador Dali

The rhythm of a Pantoum, feels like a dance to me....Thank you Tess, at Magpie Tales.


Don't take the dance from me.
I give my word not to wait
for intoxicating applause.
Just need my heartbeat to do a jig.

I give my word not to wait.
Dancing is my body's dream,
just need my heartbeat to do a jig
when a melody seduces me.

Dancing is my body's dream,
it bubbles from the source
when a melody seduces me,
weaves my karma into a waltz.

It bubbles from the source,
embraces me at nativity,
weaves my karma into a waltz.
Simply want to keep on dancing.

Embraces me at nativity
for intoxicating applause,
simply want to keep on dancing.
Don't take the dance from me.

Copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2012


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