This and That

That is a banana slug.





This is a sonnet.


Sonnet for a Blog About Being Lila

Fourteen lines to rhapsodize about love,
Ten syllables in each line to move you,
Make you whimper, look to the stars above
For answers, and then sigh as lovers do.
Fiddle-dee-dee to all of that, and yet
Some find that love can be the sweetest thing
That humankind may know (and then forget),
If love’s object is right and true feeling
Takes away all doubt. I only know it’s
Hard to find my way through love’s bright meadow
Without stumbling and sometimes throwing fits.
I count to ten but still I stomp and bellow,
I am a happy single lesbian!
Oh dear, an ending rhyme now: thespian?


July 31, 2009
Fort Bragg, CA


This is better than that, don't you think?

Dykes for Days

I attended the Seattle Dyke March in honor of Gay Pride yesterday. Woo-hoo! The weather was perfect and I met more great Seattle women through my connection with the Over 40s Lesbians group that meets every Tuesday evening. I'm not going to put up the pictures of naked breasts but there was plenty of T&A on full view. There were walkers of all ages and colors.


The nips were all covered with paint or pasties so it was all in fun and very "tasteful."


The Clothesline Project had a display that was very moving, as always. It's a program started on Cape Cod, MA, in 1990 as a vehicle for women affected by violence to express their emotions by decorating a shirt. They then hang the shirt on a clothesline to be viewed by others as testimony to the problem of violence against women.




These women did a great Kung Fu demonstration wherein they tossed each other around and pretended to be kicking in knees and poking out eyes--all in self-defense, of course.

Nice banner, huh? I made it myself. A few of our group, including an 80-year-old and a 12-year-old on crutches (and me and my new friend Fai), walked about 8 blocks and then cut out to enjoy some great Mexican food. Now that's what I call marchin' smart. It reminded me of that Stella Artois ad they're playing during movie previews these days where the two Italian brothers in the bike race have a flat tire in front of the little restaurant and never finish the race, just like Papa.

And here's my poem to commemorate the day:

Dyke March

We made the signs
We joined the throng
Amazons
With bare breasts
In the Broadway wilderness
A too brief mingling
Joy
Laughter
Singing
Power
Women together
We told our stories
In the dark
An inner glow
Lighting my way
Home.

June 28, 2009
Seattle