Leonard Nimoy ~ Live Long & Prosper




the world has lost Leonard Nimoy

who was so much more than just Mr. Spock

an icon for multiple generations

actor,  director  (including “Three Men And A Baby”)

author,  photographer,  singer

soldier,  father,  husband

the man who created the Vulcan hand sign for live long and prosper

which is iconic in itself

Mr. Nimoy did live long and prospered

though his life was not nearly long enough

not nearly

rest in peace





“Highly Illogical”   Leonard Nimoy  from his album  “Mr. Spock’s Music From Outer Space”



image  ~  “I am not SPOCK”  by Leonard Nimoy
{ autobiographies,  available on amazon.com  HERE  as well as  “I AM SPOCK” HERE  }  i receive no compensation  for sales of  his books






Filed under general post, NaBloPoMo, Post-A-Day

· ১ · as quiet as a summer cloud · ৎ ·

˚ ৩ ˚

· ৩ ·

i  stand quite still
a silent fog
in need of  a mountain
to wrap  ’round
lost in circumspection


i  wander reluctantly
unable to decide…
which direction should  i go?

a summer cloud
quietly drifting
across the ocean


i  rush forward blindly,
bravely,  into the future
a thunderstorm
loudly proclaiming  “i am here”
casting lightning bolts
by which to see

at last in motion

˚ ৩ ˚

· ˚ ৩ ˚ ·

১ · ˚ ৩ ˚ · ৎ

this recording is from 2000 ~ i feel Mitchell’s voice is much richer~

“Both Sides Now”    Joni Mitchell

artwork ~   “Antibes, The Pink Cloud”   Paul Signac
{  public domain }

i  wish to thank my friend and  fellow poet,  Ainsley Allmark,  for his assistance with this poem.  his suggestions made all the difference in the  final version.  you can  find his poetry and photography at  Dolphin Muse  and  Dolphin Visions  or any of  the other Dolphin links in the blogroll at the bottom of  the page.

i am participating in ~

Prompt No. 5:  Fog;   Form:  Elegy;   Device: Metaphor
and Part of  Prompt No. 10:   Future
for   Writing 201:   Poetry!
Blogging University   Presented by
The Daily Post
on WordPress.com

i  used  fog as a metaphor in the  first verse,  hopefully used metaphors in all three verses,  and mentioned the  future in the  final verse.  i did not attempt the elegy as i have  found that if  i am not inspired by a  “form”  the harder  i try to achieve it,  the worse my poem becomes.  i am still behind with prompts and devices,  as well.  if  i am able to manage any of  the  forms,  i will do so,  but that is not my strength.  though  Writing 201:   Poetry!   has officially ended,  i  am going to  finish what i can.

this is my submission to  ~

Open Link Night — Celebrating Poetry!!!    at    dVerse ~ Poets Pub
submit a new or old poem

thank you,  Brian & Claudia for all you’ve done!

Poetry Pantry #241    at    Poets United
submit a new or old poem

thank you,  Mary


Filed under Creative Every Day, dVerse ~ Poets Pub, NaBloPoMo, poetry, Poets United, Post-A-Day, Writing 201: Poetry!

·ƨ·Ƨ· summer nights ·Ƨ·ƨ·




the blush of  pink


washes o’er the garden

as the summer sun is


her goodbye


the night


late bringing

the moon with

a sprinkling of  stars



its arms


across the lands and seas




Beethoven’s   “Moonlight Sonata” 



originally posted  27 June 2011



artwork  ~  “Flowers”  Eugene Delacroix
{  public domain }





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Filed under blog anniversary, Creative Every Day, NaBloPoMo, poetry, Post-A-Day, redux

haboob {another creepy tail}



It was easy to slip across the border from Mexico into Arizona and a haboob was the perfect cover to get into the city undetected.  The massive dust storms covered the valley at least once or twice every summer during the monsoon season.  One news helicopter photographer caught a few seconds of  the two lights moving in at the front edge of  the mile-high wall of  dust,  but it was explained away as airplanes skirting the storm to land at Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport.  People only see what they want to…  especially those with neophobia.  In today’s political climate,  that was just about everybody.  Arrangements had been made the week before via email offering a remunerative deal that a local street gang couldn’t refuse.  It was just enough to cover what they could make in a month selling weed ~ any more would have made them suspicious.   A small bag full of  diamonds would be left at the landing site.

The two space ships set down unnoticed in the burnt-out block of  South Phoenix where the drug gang had chased off  all the addicts and homeless people.  By then, everyone who could be was inside anyway.  The haboob was an immense sand blaster made by nature with hurricane-force winds.  Anybody unlucky enough to be caught unawares was stuck on the side of  a road somewhere praying that their car wouldn’t be carried away like Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of  Oz.

Ramps came down from both landing craft letting out a strange neon-orange glow.  The eight-legged creatures made their way into the rubbish filled back yard of  an abandoned house.  A modulated signal beyond human hearing was being broadcast. The haboob would also mask detection by any of  the humans’  equipment designed to pick up sounds in that range.  In less than a minute a strange scurrying noise could be heard.  It seemed to get louder by the second.  The creatures from the space ships opened the doors at one end of  each of  the cases they carried in their two front claws,  laying them gently on the ground.  In under ten minutes,  the containers were being filled by scorpions of  every size scrambling over one another to get into the large cases.  The {illegal} aliens closed the containers and made their way back into their ships,  cooing and clicking to calm their babies within.  They had more than enough nurseries on board the mother ship to allow their descendants plenty of  room.  All of  the subterfuge had been unnecessary when they had made the last trip one hundred years ago.  It had been quite a surprise to discover that the city had grown so quickly,  invading their hatching grounds.  The next brood would have to be laid on a deserted planet in another solar system.

The ramps pulled up and the two ships launched back into the haboob just before the tail end of  the dust cloud passed through the area.  When they reached South Mountain,  the ships suddenly shot straight out of  Earth’s atmosphere in the blink of  an eye.  If  there had been any eyes looking.

Video footage of  the haboobs always made the network news shows the next day.  Only one local station aired a thirty-second segment the following week to report the abrupt disappearance of  scorpions in South Phoenix.  The residents themselves didn’t question it.  They were just grateful to have the scorpions gone since no one in that area could afford an exterminator.



“Holiday”   Scorpions

{ by strange coincidence,  i’m a Scorpio.  make of  that what you will… }



this story was prompted by ~

3 Word Week #23     at     READING AND WRITING BY PUB LIGHT
prompts:  {all three must be used}
thanks for the  ‘haboob’  prompt,  Steve ~ another creepy-crawly story for you {smile}

I.)  haboobn.
A penetrating sandstorm or dust storm with violent winds,  occurring chiefly in Arabia,  North Africa and India. {and in Arizona,  U.S.A.}

II.)  neophobian.  A tendency to dislike anything new;  a morbid fear of novelty;  misoneism.

III.)   remunerativeadj.
1.)  Yielding suitable recompense;  profitable.
2.)  Serving to remunerate.



originally posted  27 September 2011



photograph by Mike Oblinski of  an actual haboob in Phoenix
{  fair use }



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Filed under blog anniversary, Creative Every Day, fantasy, science fiction and horror, fiction, NaBloPoMo, Post-A-Day, prose, redux, short stories

·ਙ· •ਲ• · imperfect offering · •ਲ• ·ਫ·

· •ਲ• ·


 i  give  you  this
my  imperfect  offering

all  that  i  have  to  give
~  my  self  ~

· •ਲ• ·

ਙ •ਲ• ਫ

· ਙ •ਲ• ਫ ·

·ਙ· • ਲ • ·ਫ·


“Anthem”   Leonard Cohen

artwork ~    “Blue on Tin”    Olga Rozanova
{  public domain }

originally posted  1 December 2013

“Anthem”   Leonard Cohen

lyrics ~

The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don’t dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Yeah the wars
they will be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.

We asked for signs
the signs were sent:
the birth betrayed
the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
of every government —
signs for all to see.

I can’t run no more
with that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places
say their prayers out loud
But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up
a thundercloud
They’re gonna hear from me.

Ring the bells that still can ring …

You can add up the parts
you won’t have the sum
You can strike up the march
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
That’s how the light gets in.
That’s how the light gets in.

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Filed under blog anniversary, Creative Every Day, love, micropoetry, NaBloPoMo, poetry, Post-A-Day, redux