The Daily Dozen Rules To Live By according to Robert Lewis Stevenson of the Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde Fame!

1.       Make up your mind to be happy. Learn to

find pleasure in simple things.

2.       Make the best of your circumstances. No one

Has everything, and everyone has something

Of sorrow intermingled with the gladness of life.

The trick is to make the laughter outweigh the tears.

3.       Don’t take yourself too seriously. Don’t think that

somehow you should be protected from misfortunes

that befall others.

4.       You can’t please everybody. Don’t let criticism

 worry you.

5.       Don’t let your neighbor set your standards.

Be yourself.

6.       Do the things you enjoy doing, but stay out of

debt.

7.       Don’t borrow trouble. Imaginary things are harder

to bear than actual ones.

8.       Since hate poisons the soul, do not cherish enmities,

 grudges. Avoid people who make you unhappy.

9.       Have many interests. If you can’t travel, read about

new places.

10.   Don’t hold postmortems. Don’t spend your life brooding

over sorrows and mistakes. Don’t be one who never gets

over things.

11.   Do what you can for those less fortunate than yourself.

12.   Keep busy at something. A very busy person never has

time to be unhappy.

 

 Found this while I was packing to move. So many papers

to sort. These words of wisdom worth sharing, I thought.

Raintreepoet, reporting. 

MORE DEADLY THAN WAR Book Review

MORE DEADLY THAN WAR (The Hidden History'
of the Spanish Flu and the First World War) by
Kenneth C. Davis, published in 2018, is, quite frankly,
prescient. It recounts the last world pandemic preceding
this current  world pandemic by roughly a century.
What did humanity learn in the meantime? Are we handling
it any better?
This book is riveting and a quick read, mainly because of
curiosity about the current pandemic. What have we learned
from it that could help us now?
Containment is essential. Doing everything humanly possible
to stop the social intercourse that spreads disease.
Are we so irrepressible that we cannot beat this minute
enemy? One would think that with the advantage of the
Internet, we would do so much better than our predecessors.
After all, we can almost instantly communicate and track the
virus's movement worldwide. One would think...but, can we
halt human behaviors that border on death wishes? Public
gatherings of hundreds of people not keeping the recommended
six feet of social distancing? Or refusing to wear masks when
in close proximity to others? That, my fellow human beings,
remains to be seen...
What you can do, in the meantime, is read MORE DEADLY
THAN WAR and gain more insight and information about
how to survive our current Covid-19 pandemic. It's a great
read. Pass it along. Well worth $19.99.
Kenneth C. Davis is one of  my favorite historical reporters.
Glad to turn you on to him. You may be familiar with his
"Don't Know..." series. I suggest you start with Don't Know 
Much About History. I believe that you will be easily hooked.
Always informative, insightful and abundantly readable. You
can thank me later.

Raintreepoet, reporting.

Writer interviewing Writer

Which came first? the journalist queried, The novels or the poetry?

Well, the poetry, of course, then the songs, but actually now I remember.
It was a short story, first.
 Let's see:
 short story,
 poetry,
 songs,
 novels...
Yeah. It's about words, syntax, breathing, image, scene, story-all functionally the same. Just different vehicles.

Yes, the poem is a bit like a VW Beetle or a Harley
the song, a 911 Porsche
the short story, a four door sedan
and the novel, definitely a limousine:
now that could be a
Lincoln Town Car or
a Rolls Royce,
depending on the quality

Short stories same thing, there are:
Hondas,
Beemers,
Mercedes
and of course
Fords, Chevys are sometimes okay, too
as in "Drove my Chevy to the levee and the levee was dry"

Is the poetry harder to write than the novel? the journalist asked.

The Harley is harder to learn to ride, than driving a Rolls,
but once you get it, it's easier- Does that answer your question?

Quite more than adequately.
 You poets certainly have a way with words.

The poet smiled, So do you journalists, poets just add
more curliques...

Thank you for Sending Me yet Another Rejection…

Go figure!

I see that your four winners

All have MFAs

I do not

I am an old dude who

Has written poetry 60+ years

I have walked the walk

Read the reams of poetry

My work is fresh, original

And inspired

I had no audience except

A multitude of poetry readings and

A gazillion workshops, not to mention

My poetry blog…

But, hell, what do I know?

Do I need to stop entering contests

Such as this and accept that

I do not have the proper credentials?

It would be kind of you, if you would

Post on your website: Non-MFAers need

Not apply.

Lovely not to take money out of the

Pockets of poets who have

No hope of ever winning because,

According to you

We are not qualified.

Lesson learned.

Cordially,

a disgruntled poet

The Map of My Heart

The map of my heart has long, 

slow kisses at its center

where my journey began

The first was on my forehead

by my father

When I was a wee one

The last, I cannot remember when

I am not sad-I carry vivid memories

Of some-special-body, always

The map of my heart has soft hands

With velvet fingertips traveling

Slowly all over my body

with shivers of passion expecting

the pressure to increase in increments

And it does as the kisses plunge

deeper into my soul

Though I am no longer dewy

I am not yet through with mapping

My heart with memories of

passion and tenderness 

I no longer look for

an outside mapmaker

I am my own passion and tenderness

I map my own heart-I choose…

raintreepoet, dreaming.

"The Story of Bonnie and Clyde"

 
Okay, So I watched a documentary on Bonnie & Clyde and discovered that Bonnie wrote poetry. Whether her intent was to immortalize the Barrow gang or not; how they lived and how they died is a unique piece of Americana. I could not resist sharing. Interesting fact: Bonnie was only 23 and Clyde was only 25 when they died.

raintreepoet, reporting.

The Story of Bonnie and Clyde
You've read the story of Jesse James
Of how he lived and died;
If you're still in need
Of something to read,
Here's the story of Bonnie and Clyde.

Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang,
I'm sure you all have read
How they rob and steal
And those who squeal
Are usually found dying or dead.

There's lots of untruths to these write-ups;
They're not so ruthless as that;
Their nature is raw;
They hate all the law
The stool pigeons, spotters, and rats.

They call them cold-blooded killers;
They say they are heartless and mean;
But I say this with pride,
That I once knew Clyde
When he was honest and upright and clean.

But the laws fooled around,
Kept taking him down
And locking him up in a cell,
Till he said to me,
"I'll never be free,
So I'll meet a few of them in hell."

The road was so dimly lighted;
There were no highway signs to guide;
But they made up their minds
If all roads were blind,
They wouldn't give up till they died.

The road gets dimmer and dimmer;
Sometimes you can hardly see;
But it's fight, man to man,
And do all you can,
For they know they can never be free.

From heart-break some people have suffered;
From weariness some people have died;
But take it all in all,
Our troubles are small
Till we get like Bonnie and Clyde.

If a policeman is killed in Dallas,
And they have no clue or guide;
If they can't find a fiend,
They just wipe their slate clean
And hand it on Bonnie and Clyde.

There's two crimes committed in America
Not accredited to the Barrow mob;
They had no hand
In the kidnap demand,
Nor the Kansas City depot job.

A newsboy once said to his buddy;
"I wish old Clyde would get jumped;
In these awful hard times
We'd make a few dimes
If five or six cops would get bumped."

The police haven't got the report yet,
But Clyde called me up today;
He said, "Don't start any fights
We aren't working nights
We're joining the NRA."

From Irving to West Dallas viaduct
Is known as the Great Divide,
Where the women are kin,
And the men are men,
And they won't "stool" on Bonnie and Clyde.

If they try to act like citizens
And rent them a nice little flat,
About the third night
They're invited to fight
By a sub-gun's rat-tat-tat.

They don't think they're too tough or desperate,
They know that the law always wins;
They've been shot at before,
But they do not ignore
That death is the wages of sin.

Some day they'll go down together;
And they'll bury them side by side;
To few it'll be grief
To the law a relief
But it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.

— Bonnie Parker 1934