Beachcomber Finds

Merriam-Webster’s word for today is Aggregate

Which they define as:

Formed by the collection of units or particles into a body, mass, or amount:
such as a clustered in a dense mass or head, an aggregate flower
Formed from several separate ovaries of a single flower, as aggregate fruit
Composed of mineral crystals of one or more kinds, or of mineral rock fragments

Taking all units as a whole, as in aggregate sales

It’s quite closely related to conglomerate, defined as:
made up of parts from various sources or of various kinds
Synonyms: full amount, sum total, totality, collection, as a whole, the lion’s share, the whole kit and caboodle.
Beach sandals
Image courtesy of Chezbeate at Pixabay.

Daisy Declines Deficit

Even though I have other pressing occupations this morning, I had this urge to respond to Judy’s latest word-wise post. READ IT HERE.

Daisy desired asseverations of imperishable affection.
He preferred the pedestrian expression, “I’m half crazy over the love of you.”

She dreamed of a splendid carriage and all the appurtenances of fashion that would turn her friends green.
He offered a more pedestrian transportation:
“You’ll look sweet upon the seat
of a bicycle built for two.”

She dreamed of daily domestic help: a butler, housekeeper and chef, perhaps under the governance of a majordomo.
He offered her romance, affection, and a life of cooking, cleaning, scrubbing clothes on a washboard, and the floors on her knees.

Would she hazard all on the precariousness of his obligingly gaining a fortune straightaway and supplying her with all the accouterments of opulence she so desired? Or would she forsake this avenue of amelioration, abandoning all hope of Harry’s imminent rise to fame and fortune?

Briefly contemplating all the prospects, she elucidates her position thus:
“I’ll be switched, if I get hitched,
On a bicycle built for two!”

On A Bicycle Built for Two songwriters: Nat King Cole and Steve Gillette

Tourista Losta?

I think write, therefore I am.
I read, therefore I write.
I read more, therefore I write more.

Reading some interesting and amusing senryu at The Haiku Foundation this morning has sent my thoughts shooting off into space. Then back to Earth they came and landed on some foreign shore. Maybe not the best senryu, but I hope it gives you a chuckle.

on far flung planets
aliens all speak English
tourista losta mista?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BENVENUTO / BIENVENUE / WILLKOMMEN / KONNICHIWA, etc.

I’d like to give a warm welcome to Tree Top Haiku subscribers who are visiting or following this site now. Yesterday I had a WordPress helper beam Tree Top Haiku’s URL over to this site. At this moment I can’t seem to keep up with two blogs, so will be posting more haiku here.

Another bit of news: We saw our first robins Thursday morning!

A Poet In Exile

In honour of National Poetry Month, here’s a verse we writers can all identify with, written by Robert W Service (1874-1958).

Words

If on isle of the sea
I have to tarry,
with one book, let it be
a Dictionary.
For though I love life’s scene,
it seems absurd,
my greatest joy has been
the printed word.

Though painter with delight
may colours blend,
they are but in his sight
means to an end.
Yet while I harmonize
or pattern them,
a precious word I prize
like to a gem.

A fiddler lures fine tone
from gut and wood;
a sculptor from stark stone
shapes godlihood.
But let me just caress,
like silver birds,
for their own loveliness—
bewitching words.

According to Wiki, “Robert William Service was a British-Canadian poet and writer who has often been called “the Bard of the Yukon”. His first book of poems was titled Songs of a Sourdough.”

Woe in the Green Woods

Since this is National Poetry Month, I dared to hop over to Judy D-B’s blog and issue her a challenge — based on her own suggestion, mind you — to write a poem using at least three of the following words:
chlorophyll, fettuccine, rosemary, poison ivy, parakeet, and Greenland.

I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist — and she hasn’t. You can read her verse here: Green Cuisine. Now I invite any other readers to wander the green woods with us and write a poem using at least three of those words. You can give the title and leave a link to your poem in the comments below.

Once I had these words in front of my eyes, my own thoughts started to whirl in a kaleidoscope of green chips and I composed a poem as well. Unlike Judy, I didn’t succeed in using all the words.

One day a poison ivy patch
attracted little sister;
before too long she started to scratch
and itch turned into blister.

Our mom was crushing rosemary
planning a meatloaf lunch
with fettuccine on the side,
when in trooped our sad bunch.

Mom boiled up some chamomile
to make a soothing potion,
sent brother to Greenland’s drug store
for a jug of calamine lotion.

And all the while my sister wailed
our parakeet kept repeating,
Our grandma’s, “Count your blessings now.
The joys of life are fleeting.”