I hear you. I have given time today to ponder memories of the people now gone, but living lovingly in my mind. Now nearly all of my grandchildren have families of their own. I am no longer the nucleus of my family. Even if I was in the same house with them today, it wouldn't be my food and recipes getting attention, it would be one of theirs. My glory days are over.
King of the world is from Titanic, Houston, we have a problem is from Apollo 13, Show me the money is from Jerry Macquire and Sugar and Spice is the movie title.
You did a great job creating a fun story using the phrases. I would enjoy a gourmet food truck that went house to house but my waistline would object immensely.
I did some work with Roger but eventually found that journaling and doing some shadow work independently I discovered that I didn't see myself as valuable or worthwhile, so I never advocated for myself. I've written a lot of letters to myself rehashing things that I've allowed to happen and what I could do differently so I've learned new habits and better approaches.
Prompt:
Take any cliche and subvert it to bring it alive again in a poem or a blog entry.
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Bag of Bones
They said, "This baby, a bag of bones!"
and rattled, "She may not even throw stones"
a bag of bones, where my shadow lies
World War II, macabre with gray skies.
But dreams I've built and spells I've cast,
I charted my course, battled the past.
Alas, today, other lines are drawn,
fears of war wail from dusk to dawn.
Although people speak in whispers low,
in death's embrace, demons can grow.
So, this bag of bones sways and waits...
as, just one click, next war dictates.
Such a shame it is, to undo the seams!
Or let's mend the world, guard our dreams?
I hold my breath and hear the moans
and warnings from all bags of bones.
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