Category Archives: Uncategorized

Alphapoetically Speaking…

Alarmingly, Zöe,

Began yachting

Classes (extra-curricular)

During Wednesday’s

End-of-term visit

From UCLA students;

Gaining techniques

Hardly seemly,

In retrospect.

Just quite

Knowing  parents

Lassitudes obviously

Make nonsence

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When Words Collide (in an Acrostic Stew)

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When Words Collide (in an Acrostic Stew)

 

When

One

Reads

Disaster

Stories

Collide

It’s

Very

Important;

Life

Is

Sacred,

And

That

Is

Often

Not

Seen-

Consequently

Realisation

Unleashes

Mankind’s

Belief-

Losing

Entropy

And

P

O

C

A

L

Y

P

S

E

Ends

V

E

R

Y

T

H

I

N

G

The Birthday Sprite

In a parallel universe Tatty Teddy is really rather smart! A cake for Jane to celebrate her 34th Birthday. G:) x

moonworld

Spirited birthday
Candle bigger than the cake
Birthday sprite cometh

With big, big thanks to Graeme Sandford for my Tatty Teddy cake (amongst other lovely gifts) and for not burning the house down. Love you x

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Today I Wrote and Posted These! Too much quantity, not enough quality? What do you think?

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Let me know if you have any thoughts upon this as I tend to get very few constructive criticisms or critiques upon my words – and I can’t believe they are all perfect! G;) thank you.

Interview with a Poet.

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Interview with a Poet

The Interviewer introduces the interview with a leading question.

Poet: What is my motivation for writing poetry?

I don’t really know
I suppose that it’s so
I get my thoughts out there
In the wide world
Where they can make a difference.

The Interviewer talks here

Poet: Of ‘course’ my poems ‘make a difference!’ Without my words, the World would be a whole lot worse.
Imagine the planet Earth with little or no mirth – it doesn’t bear thinking about…
… and, I doubt the scenario where poets don’t exist on any of the other mythical lumps of rock like ours.

Here the Interviewer pours scorn upon poetry in general as being shallow and booooooo(dull as ditchwater)ring!

Poet: Well, that’s rich coming from you!
I know you’ve got a job to do…
But, hey, let’s have a little bit of civility, please
Your inability to hold a cultured conversation
Without a smarmy, semi-witty observation
Upon the ‘nerdishness of poets’
Is just a childishness which is symptomatic of you all-know-its
Really! Do you think…
That’s it! Do you?
It doesn’t seem like you have a clue
Get yourself a new attitude
And don’t just sit there being rude
About hard-working types;
That really takes the biscuit
Abuse us more
If you want to risk it
But, remember, without us
The wheels have no bus
And the mat loses its cat.
Think upon that, my friend!

Interviewer: Right-oh! That’s about it: The End.

The Colours – a work in progress – please comment ( I will reciprocate) G;)

As nobody saw this back in September long ago, I thought that it might be worth posting it again – as it ‘is’ the length and brevity and levity that a Sunday read deserves! G:)

Graeme Sandford

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Black is the shadow of my night
Blue is the colour of my sadness
And as the colour of virginity is white
On my page it is the monument to my Madness
And also to my flag of surrender
Red I forgo, and thus is my danger
Yellow for my cowardice shows
Grey is the dawn and the sunset
And purple is maybe a colour for my prose
Green is the shade of my envy
Pink is… just for the girliest of girls
Orange will not rhyme for me – it rhymes with… nobody
Unless written in Mandarin’s curls.

(Singing)
The colours of my life are all different now.
I’ve lived a long time and they’ve changed somehow;
White and Purple,
Pink and Green,
Think about what ‘could have been!’

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Moosic for my years

If you thought ‘one’ nutter on the bus was too many – we’ve got ‘two’ on ours! G:)

moonworld

There’s a moose let loose in the hoose.
He’s elking ‘imself to dessert (mousse, of course).
He’s such a deer, despite being rather bullish.
His predilect poetic form is streaming his unconsciousness;
enematic rhyme schemes spawning circular symbolism.
He’s the shape of grey; a jelliful mass of contractions –
a joyful jiggle in the jungle (if you get my drift) –
‘not to mention’ a gregarious giggler (you didn’t read that).
He’s a masterful mosher of metaphor –
a minister of mimicry, an all-round all rounder.
And occassionaly, his style rubs off on me.
(Not a euphonium)…

*run away*

"I see what you did there!" “I see what you did there!”

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