The Climate and the Bee

Good morning everyone.

The Ragtag Daily Prompt for today is the word EXTINCT.

I pondered this for a moment, wondering what I could write on this topic. Lots of things have become, or are becoming, extinct. My thoughts went to a another blogger’s article I read recently, titled SAVE THE BEES. Click here to read.

They say one good way of writing poetry, especially haiku, is to contrast the very great with the very small. The universe versus one point of starlight. The person who’s just lost everything in a house fire holding the melted frame from their family photo.

This morning I thought of the major issue being discussed these days — climate change — versus the poor endangered bee. I see a certain irony in the fact that while folks are worried about our extinction due to global climate changes, the loss of this little insect will pose a grave danger to our planet, if the research that prompted Sue’s article is correct.

Yes, it’s sadly ironic that, in order to produce more food, many growers are inadvertently poisoning the very thing that helps them produce the food.

Jack’s Abstemious Diet

The Word of the Day challenge this morning was JACK.
I thought of various Jacks, some authors like Jack London and Clive Staples Lewis, whose nickname was Jack. There are various Jacks mentioned in poems, like Jack who went up the hill with Jill, and Jack who ate his Christmas pie. Finally I opted to do something with the Jack who could eat no fat — poor fellow!
The Ragtag Daily prompt this morning was HEWN, so I’ll include that in my response, too. They say you should have fun with the writing prompts, so here’s my fun rhyme.

FOR THE GOOD OF HIS HEALTH

Bucking all of the sumptuous trends,
Jack’s diet’s been hewn to abstemious ends,
poor Jack gets all the leanest grub
while his dear little wife…ah there’s the rub!

Jack salts his spuds and peppers his beef
not a lick of gravy to give them relief;
forbidden the butter, denied sour cream.
He’s wasting away on this fat-less regime!

His wife does her part to empty the plates
of anything fatty Jack might want to taste;
she, ever-vigilant, metes out his diet
no oil on the salad — though Jack once did try it.

He watches his missus pour on the cheese sauce;
to moisten his veggies, Jack gets barley broth.
She slathers on gravy, eats ham with the fat,
poor Jack’s turning pale as he takes in all that.

Mrs Spratt finished the whole Christmas cake;
for hubby’s dessert a scone she did bake.
He gnawed on the morsel all afternoon
thinking it must be of ebony hewn.

He rues that sad day when his doc, meaning good,
said Jack mustn’t have so much fat in his food,
for Mrs Spratt took the instructions entire
and now from starvation he may well expire.

Brunch for Mother

The Haiku Foundation Poet’s Dialogue is doing a series on Food and the Senses. I’ve been inspired with that idea, but tend to miss the submission deadlines, so here’s the family brunch I’ve put together.

cutlery clatter
Matthew sets the table
wanted to crack the eggs

thunk thunk the wooden spoon
Jenna stirs the grape juice
pop goes the toaster

Brittany sneezes
Father performs the frying
sprinkling more pepper

Cole opens windows
tries to hush the smoke alarm
mother’s to be surprised

brunch is ready
Mother expresses delight
smoke alarm hiccups

Picky, Picky

As I wrote in my last post, The Haiku Foundation’s dialogue this week is about Food, focusing on the sense of sight. Here’s another senryu I’ll add on that theme:

get a life
he grumbles — she slowly picks
sausage off the pizza

 

Pizza slice
Open clip art from Pixabay

Since the Word of the Day prompt this morning was CHIC. For lack of anything more erudite, I’ll give my response in this gem of wisdom:

It’s never chic
in public view
to carefully pick
anything from your stew.