Everyday Canvas

Public Transportation and a Writing Exercise

Prompt: Do you think there will come a time when gasoline or petrol will be banned for ordinary individuals and everyone will have to use public transit, bicycle or walk to reach their destination? Do you think we've done too much damage to our atmosphere already?

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If the use of gasoline would be no more, I would be deliriously happy.

I grew up in the city and didn’t learn how to drive until I was 23 and hubby and I moved to suburbia. While in high school or later, I didn’t sign up for Driver’s Ed when I could. I missed nothing. Actually, everything was within easy reach with public transportation.

The fact is, I don’t mind driving at all. I even like it, but I am nervous to drive with other people in the car. Should an accident happen, I’d feel guilty the rest of my life. Therefore, having public transportation again would please me to no end.

For years, now, we have been pushing our state’s legislators to put in a train service from Miami to the North. Finally, they approved something that’s of no use to the general population. We originally wanted a train that would stop at every town along the way, but no, they are putting up a fast train that won’t stop at all. It will go directly from Miami to Orlando. Well, thanks for nothing!

I don’t know if public transportation will cure the ills of our planet, maybe not anymore. It may be too late, but if there is a modicum of a chance that we could prolong the arrival of a disaster, it will be worth it.

Prompt: Let's have some fun take each letter in your first name and choose a word with the same letter. Like for instance mine is Lyn.
lovely young naive... now once you have the letters create a poem, story or just discuss something in your blog for fun using those words like this (ex: There was a lovely, young naive woman who loved to chase the boys around town.)

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Derived from Oxford’s Rare 50 cent Words
J: Jaculiferous = having prickles
O: Ombrifuge = rain shelter
Y: Yatter= to talk foolishly about foolish things

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From my book of relics
among the thorns of dried-out pens
a jaculiferous subject
compact, sufferable
I absentmindedly picked:
my defiance of gravity
when I leaned into a kiss.

These lines
a small offering
an ombrifuge from drops
of crimped memories
stitched together
to billow in the wind
while I yatter,
each word an aching wish.