My
pen sieve
look
is thoughtful,
considered,
evaluational.
Smaller things will fall through the gaps,
perhaps;
but, all my pens
will be restrained.
As opposed to a mime act
where nobody speaks
and nobody is heard –
not a single word.
No. What I meant was,
playing with words;
using them in different ways;
creating new, never before seen,
or heard, words.
Take ‘Badriomaku’ for instance.
It didn’t exist, and then it did.
Now it one if the top thirty trillion words barely in use today – impressive, huh?
Make yourself a new word today – you know you want to.
Posted in Poetry
Solly the Dover Sole
#SoCS @LindaGHill
Prompt: Soul / Sole
See Linda’s Site here for more info
Solly was a lonely soul; being the last Sole in the sea. He swam around in the English Channel, a Dover Sole was he. He swam around other places , too – he believed in swimming diversity, ever since he was at school, and all through university.
He sought a like-minded Sole to be his soul-mate; but, he couldn’t find a single Sole, Solly got into a state.
Swimming the seas from Britain to France, Dover to Calais, Solly sought a Sole called Sally; but she had fled, a tad too late, and ended up upon a ceramic plate with a slice of lemon upon her head – in one short word, Sally was dead. Sad face.
Solly didn’t know this, he couldn’t read; he hadn’t learnt, didn’t heed his mum’s advice to learn the Classics, Plato, Dickens, Agatha Christie – where the plot thickens, like gravy or a Béchamel Sauce ladled upon a fish who is now a main course. Sad face with tear.
Solly swam up and down; with a happy face (not) that resembled* a frown (because it was) until he met Annette. Very Sad Face with Tears.
*10-minute timer went off here. Sad face.
Pour a bucket of water over my head and have done with it!
Why do you have to keep adding insult to injury?
I only wanted a dry day for a change – and what happens?
Yup! Another rain cloud poised above me, the moment that I venture forth, disposes of its contents upon little, old me.
Dee: I’m not sure what we should call it. I’ve thought of a few names: ‘The Smooth Sunday Show’, ‘The Soft Sunday Show’…
Jay: It’s not a range of toilet-rolls!
Dee: True. How about ‘The Sensuous Sunday Show’? Bit too exotic?
Jay: No, leave it to me, I have the ideal name.
ON AIR (the next Sunday)
GRAMS: Radio Reality Jingle
Dee: Hi, I’m Dee, and I’d like to welcome you to, ‘The Alliterative Sunday Show!’
I lost my fish in the ocean,
I couldn’t find it anywhere;
and then I had a notion:
I would scan all the fish
when they swam past,
until, at last, I would find my fish –
and I know I would,
as I had had him chipped.
A picture
is not a permanent fixture;
whether it is upon a canvas
upon a wall,
or painted directly upon a surface;
The Last Supper
will not last forever
and may be renamed
The Lost Last Supper.
Pictures painting a thousand words
are not always exactly at a thousand – at least, that is my thought upon the phrase.
‘A picture can paint a lot of words’
may, technically, be more apt –
but less apposite.
