Posted to Writers Island
QUITE THE OPPOSITE
If I asked myself
“Did you remember
To buy cheese today?”
In all likelihood,
I’d probably say
“Quite the opposite”
But that’s not because
It’s like I’d forget
To buy cheese today
No, nothing like that
“What am I thinking?”
I’d probably ask
Then maybe I’d say
“So you remembered?”
So I’d qualify
‘Quite the opposite’
My response would be
“No, no… I FORGOT…
Forgot to SELL… CHALK
…You know… YESTERDAY...Posted to Writers Island
THE BEDSITTER
What’s in the fridge then?
Cup-a-soup, already made
As luck would have it
Yesterday, the day before
Microwave, highest setting
Four or five minutes
Old stuff edible again
Nuke it; only way
It’s not worth taking chances
Especially on Friday night
Oh great… wholemeal bread!
What’s wrong with Mothers Pride White
Bit hard round the crust
Pack left open in the fridge?
…Can’t wait till Sunday at Mum’s
Posted to Big Tent Poetry
This week’s prompt(s)
We are into April, National Poetry Month,
and some of you are madly writing-a-poem-a-day.
And some of you are saying, “Um, no.”
To keep all our circus-goers happy and well-fed
on cotton candy (inspiration) and peanuts (prompts),
here is a list of seven prompts:
1. Write about a broken window.
2. Write about something that no longer exists.
3. Write a poem with lungs in it.
4. Write a poem as though you are a fish.
5. Write a letter poem to someone in a war zone or a revolution.
6. Write a poem that starts, “I am sorry about _____.”
7. Write a poem that starts, “Legend says ______.”
Also posted to Writers Island
JOHN DOE
Just like me he used to smoke
Hand rolled reefers; cigarettes
That’s what they tell me at least
So I set about my task
Tobacco at the ready
Tissue-thin rolling paper
Sprinkle, roll, lick, seal and light
Fill both lungs full of toxins3
Exhale to his memory
Friend of a friend of a friend
The death of a chain-smoker
Who survived Afghanistan5
Only to fall to Cancer
At the age of twenty nine
Legend says he’s a hero7
History thinks otherwise
Local history at least
Our man – let’s call him John Doe
Is a year passed-on today
Played his part for his country
In a scene from Hell On Earth
Back to civilisation
Where the Peace On Earth Brigade
Play a war-game of their own
Hiding behind their morals
Those without, sin; cast their stones
Music to rabble’s ears, who
Love the sound of window pain1
…Stones and glasshouse residents
Hero saves another day
Takes his wife into his arms
She’s beside herself, poor soul
And flapping about the house
Like a fish out of water4
Justice – what’s all that about?
Whatever became of it?
The justice heroes deserve…?
Alas it no longer exists2
…If it ever did at all
I am sorry about that6
Posted to Writers Island
SUPER
Only takes a minute
Innit?
A smile
A nod and a wink
Don’t you think?
And sworn enemies
Are reborn best friends
Time mends
The deepest rift
Attitudes shift
And happy days
Replace the haze
And hopes are raised
Remember yesterday’s
Childish game?
I claimed my dad
Was bigger than yours
But of course
Yours was bigger than mine
That’s fine
But mine drives a Batmobile
And he can see
Through solid steel
For real!
And he flies the open skies
With an ‘S’ on his chest
He’s the best!
But me
I’m no Superman
Maybe
Desperate Dan
Less than a hero
On a scale from zero
To ten
Me, a hero?
Think again!
Posted to Writers Island
PALINDROMIC ACROSTIC AMERICAN SANDWICH STYLE NAISAIKU
Dentally tortureD
Excruciating toothacheE
Thursday afternoon, I saw the local dentist for an appointmentT
About ten minutes late and I was overcome by the aromA
Rushing around the surgery like a madman, gasping for fresh aiR
THURSDAY APPOINTMENT
Reclining into the dentist’s chair, I fell into a deep slumbeR
Agony followed as he injected my lower gum areA
That’s definitely the last time I’ll see that particular dentisT
Excruciating toothacheE
Dentally tortureD
Not exactly pwoemwrds, but fun with words anyway
Tomorrable – Not possible today, but next day, sure.
Lardsm – Fat bloke
Bootyful – Fat woman
Secondomery – as practiced by:
Secondomerists – following the principles of:
Secondomerism – A political movement supported by corrupt M.P’s
Posted to Writers Island
and Mad Kane's Humor Blog
4 5’s 4 5 - (Four fives for five)
A fellow was fit to be tied
Then hung with fresh herbs to be dried
It suffices to say
He’s still hanging today
But he’ll soon be chopped up to be fried
A fellow was fit to be tied
As he walked past the hangman he sighed
“Spare a life would you, mate?
For the usual rate…”
A request which the hangman denied
A fellow was fit to be tied
To a bride who had recently died
“If only she’d cared”
The sad groom declared
“It takes pride to reside by her side”
A fellow was fit to be tied
To an ambulance fifteen feet wide
Then dragged through a field
Until he was healed
Of what illness he could not decide
What’s it got?
What’s a what?
What’s a Tardist?
Not a ‘what’
No it’s not
It’s a ‘who’
As in Time Lord Doctor Who
Who’s a Tardist?
You say Doctor Who is a Tardist?
Doctor Who is only The only Tardist
Pilot of a Time Machine
No less
Tell me you can see what I mean
Oh yes
To drive a TARDIS
Is not the hardest task to face
Regardless of Time and Space
In any case
They’re mere dimensions
Inventions created by Man
Doctor Who is no big fan
Because Who really is the man
So what’s a Time Lord?
Who’s a Time Lord
Who’s a ‘who’ who should be adored
And his TARDIS Temple should be toured
On journeys through Relative Dimensions
Extensions we positively activate
While we celebrate the times he’s saved
The day, the age
Wave upon wave
Of Daleks invading Earth
It was worth the Time Lord’s time
Time after time
The Doctor’s worth every dime
Who’s sublime?
Doctor Who, that’s Who
Who‘s Doctor Who?
You know who
You know Doctor Who
Who’s the Tardist
Posted to Writers Island
ON YOUR DAY
Always in my thoughts
Miles away, years departed
Happy Mother’s Day
For We Write Poems
NUMBER’S UP
Wake up O-seven O-O
Bathroom, for a number one
Or maybe a number two
Then four minutes in the shower
At forty five Centigrade
Breakfast – bet you can’t eat three
Cup of coffee, zero milk
One sugar… stirred to the left
Twelve paces to the front door
Into my four door saloon
A sixteen hundred cc
Five forward gears, one reverse
Some take the ninety nine bus
Arrive at work eight thirty
Day starts at nine on the dot
Ends at five, or thereabouts
Then back home, to Number Nine
Takeaway dinner tonight
Chinese, number forty two
Pork in green pepper, black beans
Two or three glasses of wine
Then up thirteen stairs, to bed
And I don’t mean forty winks
Morning, back to the grindstone
Five days a week, forty hours
Fifty two weeks every year
Until I reach sixty five…
Then, one day… my number’s up…
For Writer’s Island prompt #31 2010
THANKSGIVING
Although not American
On this day, especially
I have reason to recall
And reasons to be grateful
Funny how you remember…
(Some things, you just don’t forget)
Must be fifteen years ago
… Seems like only yesterday
You didn’t ask me for it
But I knew you wanted it
You didn’t even say it
But it was clear you meant it
Just an item of clothing
But you folded it, neatly
Tucked it into bed with you
Probably dreamt about it
It was such a privilege
I’m eternally grateful
For having witnessed such an
Expression of gratitude
For Big Tent Poetry – wordle
WORKAHOLICS?
Only just awake if truth be known
Still hung-over from last night’s session
Pen in hand, and a freshly inked nib
I check-in my pal, another lush
so the boss won’t know he’s passed out, drunk
We blame the clunk and thud of presses
(and the Coalition Government)
for a condition that resurfaced
when we thought it was under control
We’ve both spent time at de-tox session
Been named, shamed and dragged over the coals
Forklifted from the ash-pit, hand washed
and hung over the boiler, to dry
Still we don’t seem to understand why
the consumption of alcoholic
beverages is prohibited
while operating machinery
For Writers Island #30 2010 – Peerless
And We Write Poems – Swimming
Ans posted to Monday Poetry Train Revisited
UNTOUCHABLE
Morning, bathed in rays of golden sun
Met her for a sink or swim showdown
Hoping we could pool our resources
Shall we synchronise watches? I try
Should have gone to greater lengths than that
Am I in her thoughts…? Won’t hold my breath
Learn to crawl before you walk; she laughs
That would take a stroke of luck; I think
One of us may have to take a dive
Which will send me right back to square one
Passing on the water; ships – that’s us
In her presence, I’m out of my depth
She’s aloof; Madame’s a butterfly
Floating freestyle through a crowded room
Clutching secrets to her heaving breast
