Some cool all car games for girls images today:
My month of December poetry and stuff.. Something to read…
Image by Pedula Man
Eartha Kitt Memorial.
My sweet beauty.
I will trimble to hear you purrrr…
In the night you curl up with me.
You make me so warm.
You PURRRRFECT creature.
Your tail so high.
Your back so arched, set in seductive, feline, combat, or, love.
Tameless woman I will not try to control you.
That frantic and ferocious moment when you are mine is ours.
Just for that Moment.
In our loving dreams.
You are mine.
Prof. Pigg 12/26/08
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Oh dark lover in my night.
Treat me wrong if I might fight.
Tie me down and punish freely.
Give me all I want, I’m needy.
Proud ,tomorrow, when I rise.
I’ve been to Hell and I survived.
But my dark lover’s in my mind.
I seek her out another time.
Prof. Pigg 12/24/08
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I hear the sweet, sad, sound of a single fiddle playing alone for simple pleasures.
The gypsy woman dances about without care.
Haunted, am I, as I peer across the shrub I have hidden behind.
Oh fair maiden of the night. Your beauty is beyond my hearts limit.
Oh fair gypsy maiden. I dance, for now, with you.
Prof. Pigg 12/26/08
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His dobro lay across his knee.
He looked at me and chuckled then drew long from the cheap bottle of wine which had been sitting by his foot.
Lost, for a moment, I saw some ecxtasy within this old man that I knew could not be defined.
He slid his hands across its’ strings and his dobro came alive as any creature I knew. Oh please, old man, play your soulful blues for me.
Prof. Pigg 12/08
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This old house ain’t got no windows.
These old bones now only sleep.
Barren are her rafters.
Silence ‘xept the wind.
But music’s been in the valley.
If you…….. could only hear.
There’s ghost down on the roadway.
The truths of love that we may feel.
Prof. Pigg 12/25/08
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I’ll take cream with mine. I’ll add it please.
Then I think…
I wish I wasn’t alone…
I want to just go home but, alas, there is none left to go to.
I know someone must care. Don’t they?
Oh what a mess. Oh my feelings.
I can’t talk anymore because my words come out so dark and I can no longer cover that pain. Oh……..dark, great, pain.
So for this moment……I will enjoy…..because the coffee is warm and sweet…
So bitter sweet.
Prof. Pigg 12/24/08
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My tribe has sent me away.
The medicine man turned his back to me.
I walk, now, about country which I am new.
Why did they send me away?
What have I really done?
Now I conjure ideas in my head to explain.
Cheap words which I pray bolster my spirit.
I only wanted my brothers to see
this new idea which was related to me.
Oh father, I have not sinned in your eyes.
Oh Father, I let you lead my lonely journey.
Prof. Pigg 12/24/08
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My path no longer follows a straight line.
Accelerating around curves that mark more than bends in roads.
I no longer can see where I started and I have no idea when I will end.
Sometimes I stop to look at what I’m passing.
More often I speed by in pure ignorance of the beauty and wonder hiding outside my window.
Not even smell nor sound will reach my senses.
I’ve enclosed myself in this all protective shell.
I’ve come a long way but not quite far enough.
To hide from this world that I ignore.
Prof. Pigg 12/23/08
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Oh doubt, my wary friend.
If only you could be held on to,
tightly, during the night.
Could be that somehow my want and desire could be quenched?
I think not for time and doubt have shallowed my fertile place and left my fields wanting.
Oh for my fiendish friend doubt.
You slayer of dreams and purveyer of madness!
No more shall I seek you.
No more for now.
P.Pigg 12/24/08
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She’s an old girl.
Getting kinda hard to look at.
She’s got her special thing that only she can do.
Paint , no more, shines like wunderlust but still she cries alone for me.
Oh sing in the night my beloved.
I’ll harmonize with thee.
Oh savage have the years been oh cry your song solemnly.
This is for my 1968 Fender Telecaster which seems to have no, real, home. 12/24/08
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Peel any layer and set about looking closely at the cellular makeup within.
Slice it thin because it has grown thick and hard to see with time.
Old, it seems, look how tough and hardened around the edges.
Frail, it seems, though, but held together by scar and withered sinew.
Peel that layer but don’t feel sadness for that lonely cell.
It’s not alone, that’s plain to see, they bunch together,
As if lambs huddling for safety against many hungry wolves.
The oldest to die, The youngest to run for life.
Do not cry. Do not cry.
Prof. Pigg 12/24/08
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Push my chroma.
Lower my exposure.
Put a road through me
and add composure.
Somewhere in the light
you’ll find me there.
A vignette close to night
with leaves orange and red.
View me when you can,
I’ll hang there for you.
A photographic slice,
I’ll be your jewel.
Prof. Pigg 12/24/08
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Wash the windshield,
He’d fill the tank.
Need a quart of oil, a smile and a thanks.
Give directions to where you want to go.
Coke machine’s right there through the door.
The Esso Man
The Esso Man
Car started steaming 66,
Stopped at a station to get it fixed.
Red rag hanging from his belt.
He put the hood down and we were gone. OH……………………
The Esso Man
The Esso Man
Being daredevil, drive the car,.
There’s a curb a comin’ and your running hard.
Here he comes to save the day..
His wrecker’s built and it’s ready to play.
The Esso Man
The Esso Man
ProfessorPigg
12-19-2008
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Interesting message post in a yard.
Door was open didn’t want to linger long.
I took a few pictures and was ready for more.
When I saw it swing open, on the porch, it’s the door!
So I stabbed the little pedal and drove away.
Thinking is it real and is this "The last day?"
Prof. Pigg 12/08
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I peer more deeply than ever before,
into a well of dreams and,no, empty stare,
I can hear the water dripping, carelessly,
one at a time making, what I know, are ripples,
that travel onward until they hit an object,
to, then, rebound back into my mind,
then I realise, though I try to not believe
that this is what I see.
Prof. Pigg 12/23/08
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Touch me
and find your pouty lips beside mine.
Feeling your embrace justifies the boldness
of my ego as I capture the demure stance
that captivated my stare.
Tell me then, young lady–
would you smile for me?
Prof. Pigg. 12/08
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What happened?
Why am I here?
Why are the bones of my brothers lying buried so far over there?
Honor and patriotism we did practice.
Yet why were we oucast when we came back?
Soldiers and sailors, marines were all there too.
Why is it that only me and my friends care who?
Aren’t we a nation?
aren’t we supposed to care?
Trampled, now broken, my soul now seems.
I wake in the night to those old forgotten and frightened screams.
Who knows?
Who cares?
They’ll always be there…
Professor Pigg
12-19-2008
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The Game
Let’s get back to playing the game.
I’m ahead and your being lame.
Always taking everything from your masses.
Always coming back and wanting more passes.
Hey! That’s cheaten.
That country was beaten.
You hung the dictator
You said you brought them freedom
Well I’m gaining on you
see what I’ve done
I made them new leaders
now they’re shooting their guns.
Ah, this is fun
I know Daddy warned us but this really is fun.
I made up religion to shake things up.
Now you make it something different than it was before
You got ‘em all warring and man you are scoring
I’ll find me a way to get my points start pouring
I think I have you now ’cause I got the world war
ming
pretty soon the floods will cover all your warring
then you’ll start losing points, no passes coming here
you better get to work, or lose, and stop those tears
Ah, this is fun
I know Daddy warned us but this really is fun.
SHHH be quiet moms outside the door
there’ll be hell to pay if we’re caught, you know
now make your move before I have to kick your asse
There’s a new storm blowing. I want to watch it pass.
Do you think they no we are playing a game
controlling how they live—– their everyday
Do they ever stop and wonder what they call mother nature
keeps doing ug–ly things to cause them torture
Ah, this is fun
I know Daddy warned us but this really is fun.
Will we be in trouble when dad comes home?
seeing what we’ve done with his experiment
I remember he left it at dina–sours
I’m not sure that we can reset the board
try a power cycle sometimes that works
erase all the shit we did to his board
the guys he works with will really be pissed
when he they see how ruined their life-long work
There’s got to be name for the end of what we done
I made up the word armegededom
now turn off the power dad’s come home
I’ll beat you to bed and then I’ve won
Ah, this is fun
I know Daddy warned us but this really is fun.
Prof. Pigg 11/08
New picture books, late October 2007
Image by your neighborhood librarian
Reviews from Pink Me: Children’s books reviewed for grownups.
The Three Cabritos by Eric Kimmel, illustrated by Stephen Gilpin.
Three Billy Goats Gruff in a Tex-Mex setting. The goats outwit the Chupacabra by playing their instruments til he dances so hard that he deflates – a witty alternative to the violent end that meets many villains. Best line: "We always have a good time when we go to Mexico!" (You gotta deliver that one like you’re Cheech Marin, who also has a new book, about which probably the less said the better.) Love the art too.
Martina the beautiful cockroach: A Cuban folktale. Retold by Carmen Agra Deedy, illustrated by Michael Austin.
I kind of want to think that David Kirk scammed this story for Miss Spider’s Wedding – Martina rejects a batch of suitors that are too macho, too vain, too violent, in favor of the cleverest, a little mousie. Cute.
How many seeds in a pumpkin? by Margaret McNamara, illustrated by G. Brian Karas.
I like G. Brian Karas’s art. Cartoony colored pencils, fairly minimal, but still very expressive. It’s a little bit math-y, a little bit size-can-be-deceptive-y, a little bit botany-y. Nice. Especially good for schools that need fall-themed books that are not Halloween. -y.
Glass Slipper, Gold Sandal: A worldwide Cinderella by Paul Fleischman, illustrated by Julie Paschkis (Bottle Houses, Head Body Legs).
Oh now this is cool – the thread is the Cinderella story, but it’s woven from the variations from different cultures. Thus we have: (Russia) Then she reached into the hole in the birch tree. (Indonesia) Then a crocodile swam up to the surface and in its mouth was a sarong made of gold… (China) … a cloak sewn of kingfisher feathers… (Japan) … a kimono red as sunset. (France) And on the girl’s feet appeared a pair of glass slippers… (India) …diamond anklets… (Iraq) …sandals of gold. Super colorful folk-inspired illustrations pack the pages. First class.
Gimme cracked corn & I will share, egg-secuted by Kevin O’Malley.
Oh man. Kevin O’Malley is one funny guy, and he just can’t resist a pun or a joke. This one is packed full, and each one delivers. Plus he has never been more on his game art-wise. Good composition, judicious use of black. Our man’s gonna turn into Mel Brooks one of these days, and won’t his wife be surprised!
The getaway, by Ed Vere.
Ooo! Collage! Film noir quotes! Breaking the fourth wall! Taking this one home. Big Man and Mr. Four will lap it up.
Gai See: What you can see in Chinatown by Roseanne Thong, illustrated by Yangsook Choi.
What can you see in a Chinese street market throughout the year? Well, if your graceful verse book is illustrated by Yangsook Choi, you will see vibrant colors, impressionistic humans and precise drawings of irresistable goods. This book makes me miss Pearl River and the New Ao Jang in a big way. Beautiful on a gray autumn day.
That pesky dragon by Julie Sykes, illustrated by Melanie Williamson.
A fine book about not making assumptions. Dynamic illustrations, good color (love the farmer with his long sideburns). Puts me in mind of one of my all-time favorites, The Ravenous Beast by Niamh Sharkey.
Little Louie takes off by Toby Morison.
Now, tell me about these watercolor illustrations. In slightly off tones of gray and pink and red and blue, they are sophisticated like I imagine a matchbook from the Stork Club was. They feel like 1958 Playboy magazine, pre-Castro Cuba, and Esky the Esquire mascot. The story is very nice, about a late-blooming bird who learns to fly and makes a friend, but really, it’s all about these marvelous illustrations.
A drive in the country by Michael J. Rosen illustrated by Marc Burckhardt.
First off, I want to check whether this Michael Rosen is the same Michael Rosen from Michael Rosen’s Sad Book. No. Ok. In fact, this is the Michael Rosen who wrote May Contain Nuts. Wow, what a likeable book. The family goes for a drive and stops to pet a horse and sings songs in the car and stops at a country story and lets loose milkweed from the car windows and stops to look for buckeyes et cetera. This is right up with Douglas Wood’s Nothing to do in celebrating unstructured time. I love it.
The toy farmer by Andrew T. Pelletier, pictures by Scott Nash.
Scott Nash illustrates Flat Stanley. I’ve always thought his cartoony style made Stanley look so likeable and friendly, and it works here too. The toys look like Stanley and the "real" world is done in colored pencils. The contrast is really neat – it’s like Who Framed Roger Rabbit, except in this case it works, it doesn’t look clunky, and it doesn’t make you want to strangle Bob Hoskins just to put him out of his misery. And the story is cool too, one of those was-it-all-a-dream-probably-not stories, of a toy that comes to life, and a giant pumpkin, and a blue ribbon. I do like me a book that is "just" a good story.
Mind your manners, B.B. Wolf, written by Judy Sierra, illustrated by J. Otto Siebold.
Judy wrote Wild about books and Monster goose, and J. Otto did Going to the Getty and the Target Ready Sit Read program materials, so this book would probably have to vehemently suck for me to not like it. Craa-ack… yep, no sucking. One big burp and a couple little songs, a whole sack of characters familiar from both traditional stories and from J. Otto’s other books, and a trip to the library! All right!
Mine! Mathilde Stein, illustrations by Mies van Hout.
Ah, Europeans. A little ghost comes to stay with Charlotte, but he doesn’t know how to share. Charlotte is patient and sensible and eventually turns the ghost into a considerate, cooperative playmate. Would be dull and heavy-handed, but the friendly little declarative sentences ("I know only one ghost and he is very nice.") and the textured, Quentin-Blake-like illustrations keep it from being so.
I miss you every day by Simms Taback.
From a song by Woody Guthrie, this book is for any child who has ever missed anyone. As usual, Simms Taback delivers tactile illustrations dense with content, and as an added bonus, there’s an envelope with a picture inside it on the title page.
Panda foo and the new friend by Mary Murphy.
Well it’s a sweet little book about making friends. The illustrations are kind of unusual and in a good way. Instead of black outlines, plants are outlined in tomato red or turquoise blue. The more detailed spreads are breathtaking.
The all-I’ll-ever-want Christmas doll, written by Patricia C. McKissack, illustrated by Jerry Pinkney.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen these two teamed up this way. No, they did Goin’ Someplace Special, and Mirandy and Brother Wind together too. And this one is lovely too, a Christmas story set during the Depression, and a young girl learns that the best gift is family. Except it’s not gross like I just made it sound.
yourneighborhoodlibrarian.blogspot.com/
Tampa (Late 1970s to Early 1990s)
Image by trainman74
Only a portion of Tampa, Florida, is visible here, but it’s the important portion, as far as I’m concerned.
Tags:Cool, Games, girls, images, today
