Hump day hubby prompt “it’s not your mamas cookin’ “

hubby gave me the prompt last night and as I posted today’s prompt will be….
Try it he says
As I roll my eyes
Where he can’t see
But really he does…
Don’t worry girl,
This ain’t your mamas cooking…
No dried out
Long suffering
Pan of brick,
No, I’m going to make it so special
You’ll beg for more.
He squishes it in a big bowl
Chunks of pink and veggies
And oooh, I see cheese…
Now it’s getting good.
He lumps them in a pan
And takes them out
To the Weber they go,
Smoking he says
Is the way to go.
With an evil glint in his eyes
(The singer Meatloaf…hubs doesn’t like his pic taken)
The smoke she is a raising so high
And later the smells
Oh gosh tell me it ain’t so,
We sup on the loaf
And I must admit,
This is NOT my mamas cooking
But don’t tell her I said that.
Besides, last week she called for advice,
Not from me…..but from the hubs
On how to make the perfect ribs,
And she said later they were her best ever.

meatloaf above not hubby’s, his looked even better but too big to download.
Sorry honey, guess your meat is too large for WordPress…..

Infinity…and beyond (NaPoWriMo)

NaPoWriMo prompt: take a famous poem written in another language and translate what the words look like to you. With greatest apologies to any Italian fans reading.
Every other line is my interpretation ….

Giacomo Leopardi (1798-1837)

Sempre caro mi fu quest’ermo colle,
Simple care my quest errant collie
E questa siepe, che da tanta parte
A quest seeps, Cheeto aunt party
Dell’ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude.
Ultimate computer orzo I guard exclusive
Ma sedendo e mirando, interminati
My second a miracle intermittent
Spazi di là da quella, e sovrumani
Spots of the quill, a souvenir
Silenzi, e profondissima quiete
Silence a of professional quiet
Io nel pensier mi fingo; ove per poco
I don’t pensive my finger over par poconos
Il cor non si spaura. E come il vento
I’ll coronate yes spa. I come to vent
Odo stormir tra queste piante, io quello
Ode storm tree quest piñata , I quill
Infinito silenzio a questa voce
Infinite silence a quest voice
Vo comparando: e mi sovvien l’eterno,
No comparison : I me sovereign eternal
E le morte stagioni, e la presente
I Morton salt stagnant, and presents
E viva, e il suon di lei. Cosi tra questa
Viva I will soon lie, because I question
Immensita s’annega il pensier mio:
Immense sang the pensive me;
E il naufragar m’è dolce in questo mare
I Neufchâtel me don’t in question female horse.

Translation actual:
Always dear to me was this lonely hill,
And this hedge, which from me so great a part
Of the farthest horizon excludes the gaze.
But as I sit and watch, I invent in my mind
endless spaces beyond, and superhuman
silences, and profoundest quiet;
wherefore my heart
almost loses itself in fear. And as I hear the wind
rustle through these plants, I compare
that infinite silence to this voice:
and I recall to mind eternity,
And the dead seasons, and the one present
And alive, and the sound of it. So in this
Immensity my thinking drowns:
And to shipwreck is sweet for me in this sea

every day simplicity

Washing dishes
Suds galore
Watching the view from the window,
My basil store bought,
For now,
Come summer time
pots on deck,
Hanging with my chick
Easter done and he will soon fly
Back to his box
Till next year
Where he will watch me merrily
Doing every day things
Like washing the dishes
Dreaming like a child
Out the window
Adventures in my mind
To share,
Like therapy,
And sweet aromas
And simple abundance