Friendly Friday raindrops & Day 12: Significantly drab

For her Friendly Friday challenge, Amanda down under in her finally no longer so dry land of plenty says raindrops. Let’s deal with the poem first, and then teardrops will fall. I mean, raindrops will follow.

Challenge 12: Each student had to bring in two objects from home to a dream poetry workshop, give away or destroy the significant object, and write a poem about loving the dull thing. “Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem about a dull thing that you own, and why (and how) you love it. Alternatively, what would it mean to you to give away or destroy a significant object?”

Significantly drab

I’ve always had twisted concepts
of possession
and value.

Suppose I bring
my “Shut up bitch” shirt,
see-through, torn and stretched, 
and my first ever digital camera,
a rather bulky
but cute little Canon. 
Shun the drab,
love the significant.
Precious camera, dull shirt?

Or should that be: my favourite shirt,
bought in Venice Beach,
that saw Iggy and so many others live,

and my first, now forgotten camera
that hasn’t seen any batteries
since I got a new Nikon?

Precious shirt, dull camera?
Love the drab,
shun the significant.

Frankly, I’d gladly dump both.
No – let me tear up the shirt
and give the camera to the cameraless.

It brought me much joy.
It was a present for my ex.
I’m sly like that.

Ask my mother
how she gifted a doll to her brother.
He was given an hour to play with it.

Did you expect me to bring
my laptop?

Love insignificance.
Shun the bard.
She is unreliable.
Iggy Pop, Ljubljana, 2008.
My parents’ first surprise Tuscany visit, 2013.

Luckily, at least over here, the rain is reliable, for now. Even more than that: today is the second Friday in a row that I was unable to meet my new friend who has painted me in a fascinating new location because of the rain.

These are old photos though. If it sees rain, my camera goes in hiding. While the first six are all different shots, in the last line there are two different edits of the first – unedited – photo which some of you will remember from my second blog.

For Friendly Friday Photo Challenge hosted by Amanda from Something to Ponder About

Friendly Friday

and for Day 12 of NaPoWriMo



  1. Fun poem and fantastic study of raindrops, Manja. Your macros of this colorless substance called rain are really something to see. With the advent of mobile phones, the cameraless could be considered a dying breed.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Amanda. Ahh, I never take photos with my phone (unless it’s urgent and I’m without my camera) because results are really bad so I forget that nowadays everybody can take photos and post them… Wait… And they do! 😀


  2. Lovely, cheekily subversive poem. My favorite kind. I love the detail of your photos too. You have a gifted eye for them.

    Oh, and I really dig your shirt. Nice to put a face with the artist. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks, Barry. I guess you missed Day Nine with so many photos of me that I won’t be posting many me’s any more. But that was an experiment. The shirt is really from California. My only time in the USA ages ago.


  3. Pingback: Day Thirteen
  4. Isn’t it funny, as you said, that cameras stay hidden in the rain? The sun makes everything look so much better. But maybe these moments after the rain are when the camera should be taken for an outing. Such beauty in the raindrops!

    Liked by 2 people

  5. A great poem. Very profound thinking there. Love the photos too.
    And that t-shirt. 🙂 I notice it’s hiding under a coat until needed though, and the scarf is handy for the same purpose too.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Who can resist a shot of rain on leaves?

    I still have all my old cameras..broken or working. Three or four digital indigents as well as my still-working but unused for 18 years two film cameras–Canon with all the lenses. Do they have a museum of old cameras? Does anyone still use film?

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Bitches have the best tee shirts! 😉
    Great shots, so pretty — for now it’s not been a rainy spring. We’ll see how it goes. Three years we had too wet of a spring.

    Liked by 1 person

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