A month of Sundays would, technically, mean a period of 30 to 31 weeks. Used to denote a long period of time or something that will never occur. From times when amusement, commerce and other activities were restricted or banned on the Sabbath, a month of Sundays suggested a long, endlessly dreary period of time.

This is week ten, a “[retro]spective” of pieces (from various blogs) I posted on a previous July 7. Oh the ego of it all . . .

July 7, 2016: salty sleep (#writephoto)

Sue Vincent’s #writephoto look-out inspired this piece of micropoetry,” she said.

sing

sea winds

for her

lullaby a salty sleep

high tide waves

rock her cradle

low tide lapping

tell her we love her

mother pacific

father atlantic

our sea child

our ocean one

image: Sue Vincent

July 7, 2016: George’s Bar (mlmm photo challenge)

On Tuesdays Neeraj (NEKNEERAJ) posts an intriguing picture for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. The challenge this week, Pause, captured a woman sitting alone at a bar. I see so much of me in her. Written between 2 am and 3 am. Take that into consideration. Nocturnal blogging. Wave of the future.

Elyssa sat at the bar. One beer. One cigarette. The bartender, George, liked her. She was quiet. Didn’t ask for much. Always polite. She paid in crumpled bills and change, including a tip. She was aloof, rarely joining the bar’s conversation. A stranger’s attempt at a pick-up was met with knee to the groin. Yet, she gently asked George when someone missed their usual day, if there was a problem. Could she help?

George tended to several regulars like her. Their drinks limit might be higher, but they carried themselves with the same dignity and determination. The bar was their haven.

Phil had one or two on his way home to a vicious wife and a nasty son. She wouldn’t divorce him. She threated to kill herself if he left. The son was nothing but trouble. George and the regulars provided an empathetic ear.

Mary downsized after she lost her job. When her unemployment check arrived, she came in. Two mixed drinks. George often added a third, saying who ever just left paid for it. Mary nodded. She knew where it came from but let George play the anonymous game.

John’s family neglected to visit, or see if he needed anything. John was lonely except when he was sitting at George’s bar. People always spoke to him. Did he need a drive to the doctors? Did he need anything at the grocery store? John’s biological family forgot and ignored him. Friends at the bar never did.

George’s Bar closed several years ago when [the owner] died. Half boarded up, the building was the target of graffitists and a place for squatters.

Walking by you might hear the buzz of conversation. Laughter. George’s booming voice. Heart-felt queries. Problems being sorted out. Stories told to a caring audience.

George’s Bar remains a haven for his regulars.

image: wallpaperswide.com

July 7, 2017: ferry ghost town (TLT: three line tales)

For Three-Line-Tales Week 23, hosted by Sonya of 100 words only and the Daily Post Daily Prompt: darkness

 When they lost the ferry, the town died another death; gone were the giddy American tourists, wallets out, loving the exchange rate.

Once a proud place with a busy harbour; a forest of masts, a constellation of sails, cries of a thousand sailors in a hundred languages.

Humming mills, factories, production lines to empty-eyed darkness; shift whistles marking busy to and froing, greetings to deafening silence. {66}

Photo by Charlie Hang

July 7, 2015:  Lolita or Lady Chatterley’s Lover (mlmm taleweaver)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Lolita?”

“Sons and Lovers?”

“The Awakening?”

“Lady Chatterley’s Lover?”

“Brideshead Revisited?”

“Tropic of Cancer?”

“The Sun Also Rises?”

“Naked Lunch?”

“The Naked and the Dead?”

“An American Tragedy? .  .  . “

I would listen to my grandparents, the librarians, argue over which banned book they would take turns reading aloud to each other at bed time. Then I’d fall asleep to the words of Lawrence, or Hemmingway, Chopin or Waugh, or . . . {67}

Compiled for: Tale Weaver #75: Bedtime Stories for Your Grandparents. I can assure you my paternal grandparents NEVER had this conversation. As my maternal grandmother died almost 30 years before I was born, I can’t say.

image: penguin books

July 7, 2019 note: The titles were chosen from the  American Library Associations’ list of the most banned/challenged (attempts made to ban) literature in 2016. The reasons for censorship may surprise you.

Banned Books Week (September 22-28, 2019) is an annual event celebrating the freedom to read. Typically held during the last week of September, it spotlights current and historical attempts to censor books in libraries and schools. It brings together the entire book community — librarians, booksellers, publishers, journalists, teachers, and readers of all types — in shared support of the freedom to seek and to express ideas, even those some consider unorthodox or unpopular.

The books featured during Banned Books Week have all been targeted for removal or restriction in libraries and schools. By focusing on efforts across the country to remove or restrict access to books, Banned Books Week draws national attention to the harms of censorship.

 

July 7, 2017 Humpty-Trumpty x 3 (mlmm tale weaver’s fairy tales)

I

Humpty Trumpty wanted a wall

to block access to health care for all

but all his lackeys and all his yes men

couldn’t get bothersome stalemates to end (28)

II

Humpty Trumpty called for a wall

to stop the invasion of any and all

not made in his image, or those of his men

deluded, secluded notion of greatness, again (30)

III

Humpty Trumpty covfefed siting on his wall

surveying his kingdom rudely seized in the fall

tweeting childish rants about false news coverage, again

whilst directing his army of obsequious women and men (32)

for Tale Weaver 126: nursery rhyme rifts

image: Wikipedia

July 7, 2017 note: Two years later . . . heads and tanks have rolled . . .

feature image: B&J on a hot humid day posted July 7, 2016 (thursday doors)

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