haiku for the day: music

As many of you know, I love music. All kinds of music. Which means I love musicians. I want to embrace my blues, I play something real bluesy. Like Muddy Waters or Chet Baker. If I want to embrace my loneliness, l listen to Sinatra, especially at three in the morning. Don’t know why but three a.m. seems to be good for that sort of thing. If I want to be joyous, I find joyous music. There’s Satchmo and his trumpet and his gravelly voice. There’s nothing like Beethoven and his “Ode to Joy” for that. I want to jump up and howl. There’s music for that too. And many a time I’ve gone to a concert and been mesmerized by the back-up musicians, not the main guys. Because they are such awesome musicians.

guy on a guitar
threading song thru the cosmos
ain’t nothing better


Uncle Bardie’s Spotlight Creators: Sarah Kay & Phil Kaye, Spoken Wordsmiths

Once a week on Friday, Uncle Bardie celebrates the creativity in others by shining a Spotlight on a movie, a song or a creator. This week’s Spotlight Creators are Sarah Kay & Phil Kaye:

Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye performing.

It was late at night and I was out cruising the highways and byways of the world wide web. I came across these two spoken wordists. Liked them a lot. And wanted to share their creative storytelling with you.

It only goes to show you what you can find when you are not looking.

haiku for the day: a debate

Animals intrigue me. I see my cat and I ask myself, “Just what is she thinking?” She has that look in her eye. You know the one. The one that says she might just have me for lunch if I don’t mind my manners and put food in her kitty bowl. Or the times she is asleep, snoring and dreaming. What is she dreaming of? Probably some cat heaven where there are things to chase. Or the fish swims around in that tank. Wonder if he’s thinking, “Gosh darn it. What is that big eye that’s looking at me for?”

a dog and a bird
under a tree debating
usefulness of cats

Near 500 words about this or that or the other

I know. I know. This post isn’t quite 500 words. But it could be. You see, it’s time to make a decision.

It’s been a long and winding road with Lady P.P. Now something says that I should let it be. At least, for a while. What shall I do with Wednesdays? Over the past several years, I have posted longer pieces for the Wednesday posties.

I spent all of 2014 on a short story blitz. A famous short story became a prompt for one of my short stories. In 2015, Uncle Bardie took on “Hamlet”. In 2016, it was the humorous novel, “Politics in America” which really couldn’t compete with real life American politics. 2017 was the Year of Lady Wimpleseed-Prissypott.

So what now? I’ve been debating. I do have some ideas. Possibly a humorous mystery novel, “The Great Squirrel Caper”.

But then again, maybe I should take a break from the longer stuff and compose a number of five-hundred word pieces, give or take a few words. The pieces will be about this or that or the other. Some humorous and others a bit serious. Nothing that causes the fumes to come out your ears. After all, this is entertainment, not earth-shaking.

Maybe give something a historical perspective, such as what were the Cave Dudes and Dudettes like. It’s always good to get back to the good ol’ days when I was something of a fool on a hill. Or reflect on a word like “wrangler”. Or just which end of a dragon does the flame shoot from. Or what would the Abominable Snowman wear on a hot summer night. Or it might be a short story. Or maybe I’ll just hang loose with Michelle or Lady Madonna.

The thing is that I shall try to keep it as close to five hundred words. No long speeches.

And you being my faithful followers, Uncle Bardie would love your input. You might even make a suggestion or two. As the Eliza Doolittle song goes:

haiku for the day: stories

Every car has a story. Or maybe many stories. There’s the story of the car itself. How the car came to be in the possession of the driver. Then there’s the story of the driver and what the heck are they doing next to you in traffic. If there’s passengers, there are more stories.

Perhaps the driver turns to the passenger next to him and says, “So, you’re not going to marry me?” She might say, “You bet your sweet booty I won’t marry you.” “Then why are we still dating?” “I thought you might win the lottery.” The car is thinking, “Ha. Him win the lottery. He’s got worse luck than Louis XVI.” In case, you didn’t know. Louis XVI was Marie Antoinette’s cake-eating husband.

man in the next car
stopped at an intersection
it’s his turn to go