Friday, October 29, 2004

Let’s Write a Poem

That might be fun, mightn’t it? Here’s what you do. There are eight lines.
Line 1 - Write down something that happened this morning. But make it an out and out downright lie.
Line 2 – In the spirit of 1 – write a sentence with a sound in it.
Line 3 – Write a sentence with a colour in it.
Line 4 – Write a sentence with a number in it.
Line 5 – Write a sentence with a character from a book in it
Line 6 – Write a sentence with an animal in it.
Line 7 – Write a sentence with an emotion in it.
Line 8 – Write a sentence to do with the past, present or future.

You might want to go away, write it, cut and paste it. But write it quickly! Go for the first things that come into your head. But by all means do a little work on the finished result. The result may not be great poetry - but hey, it should be fun. Here’s my attempt.

This morning I looked in the mirror and saw a slice of toast peering over my shoulder.
This morning I heard the crack of thunder and the laugh of angels
This morning I picked up my pen and realised, for the first time, it was red
This morning I drank 5 coffees, ate 4 muffins, rang 3 friends, tried to connect to the internet twice and had one regret
This morning dawned yellow. The yellow turned to green. The green to blue. The blue to despair.
This morning a balrog landed on the roof. Got bored. Went away.
This morning Judy, our dog, told me a very good joke.
This morning I woke up with the Blues. That’s right. The whole of Birmingham Football Club were in bed with me.
This morning I saw the future. And there were more laughs in it than I had any right to expect.

Good luck.


michael said...

This morning I built a wax museum in my shed
I twanged my garters with a pencil lead
The red pyjamas were made in heaven
On the back was a big number seven
Ratty clicked the heels of his flying clogs
Summoend the cats and the dancing dogs
Sadly he sung with tears in his eyes
"Yesterday, today and tomorrow" he cried!

The Reporter said...

I jumped out of my window this morning,
inside and all around, great bells were clanging,
the sun screamed out in a golden haze,
And I was broken in a thousand ways ...

Blech! I am terrible at writing poems. I shall leave the job to worthier people like you. Loved 'Missing'.

Roger Stevens said...

Nice, Michael. Liked the wax museum. The trouble is it's supposed to be a lie. And I happen to know that you did build a wax museum in your shed.

Hey Coolcat! The trouble is you tried to make it rhyme. Just write down 8 non-poetical sentences. You might be surprised at what you get.

(Glad you liked Missing. Thanks.)

Boomsa said...

Here's mine, Roger:

Warm under the detached sun, he woke me up with his eyes.
Pretending to sleep, still, I listened to his watch ticking.
Peering through protesting eyelashes, I saw my orange blanket wink-
We had been up to no good, the three of us. Twice.
But Atticus needed to be taken out for a crap, a walk and a hobnob with the ladies.
Dogs can’t flush, and some others may be on heat.
Afraid that he might poo in the innards of my shoe,
I yelled out his name promising a walk presently.

Stan said...

Hi Roger, Thanks for the advise on the back button. I can't imagine why it never occured to me. I'm not very bood at insnt poetry but I have a great art link for you I just discovered: art that combines text and images.

Syl said...

Couldn't resist, though I think
I cheated on the number of sentences!

Early this morning at the crack of dawn
into the fishbowl my head I did cram.
With a hiss and a growl Mr Crab tweaked my nose
then swirled his claw and went blam, Blam, BLAM!
That rude critter was soon out of mind
as the Neons swished by gleeming blue, green & gold.
My bulging red eyeballs peered 'round the aerator
Oh, Captain Hook, I know how you feel
for coming toward me was one ugly gator!
My mouth made a grimmace-scared wasn't the word
there's only one thing that has to be said...
In future take these words of wisdom
and NEVER eat fish before going to bed!

WeirdLoverWilde said...

I checked my email for you,
and a moan escaped my lips.
I cried into my coffee.
It was 6:47 in the morning.
My Humbert Humbert, you
made me forget my dreams. I slither
back into bed, crying and desperate,
and will wait to see if you write tomorrow.

Ed Giecek said...

I shot the sheriff (bang, bang), and the deputy too!

They were so scared they both turned to blue.

It wuz my 27th birthday, and I made a big bang!

Too bad I wuz spotted by Charlie Chang.

The bear wuz a growling, the dog wuz a howling!

I wuz so scared that my britches were cowling!

But that wuz neither here nor there, nor when or when. Now izz now, and then izz then!

Roger Stevens said...


Some great stuff being produced here. Well done everyone. Looking forward to more...

Allan Revich said...

Knocked nasties with Pam
Booo Yah
Powder blue and pretty in pink
One more time, for the last time
Gandalf eyed Jason Bourne with some suspicion
The wolves were howling in the night
Love lost and forlorn
I will remember this

webgal said...

We made love all morning.
Woah, Woah
And not far from the sea, blue watery reflections of autumn trees were looking the color of pumpkin.
There was one more hour today
Peter Lake was sad.
The ducklings had their fifth birthday in Boston.
Those smugly snide phony liars should be strung up by their nose hairs.
Thank goodness there are multiple dimensions, else we'd be doomed to repeat our memories ad infinitum.

Anonymous said...

Ode To Ale

I woke up this morning and I got myself a beer
Took a long swig of it, and belched in good cheer.
Ah! Amber liquid, ye King of Ales!
Faster than a Nimbus-2000 in gales
You rush me like Myrtle to the nearest door
Where, like a horse, I piss more and more,
And still my love for you'll stay strong.
I fetched myself another, before too long.

-- Ilyana Rostrig

Anonymous said...

Before noon this afterthoon I did gallop awae
Wid me jangling hussocks a ringing
A loon suft brricht purple heather trilby
Forty thoosand poonds a wuggly
Me uld lang Billy Broon wus fidgety
We rented a lurching haggis at bay
An' a fine whistling sporran
To kep ma wee tick-tock a wuddle til Throttling Day

Hootie mc Bloater

Leviathan said...

This morning I took to a pirate's life
The occasional clatter of some wooden leg on the wet wooden deck
Black flag looking down with is skeletal grin
One woman aboard with fourty seven men.
Long John, the silver one, took a bite from my book.
Grimaced and said this fibre's no good for the dogs or crew.
To my shock he threw the rest overboard
"There's no future in words, only thieving and gold!"

Roger Stevens said...

Some excellent verses there. A few that could be worked up into some pretty first-class poems I'd say.
Leave out any dodgy lines, add a bit, cut a bit, paste a bit...

Great fun.

Meanwhile I've been busy the last few days but back at my desk for the rest of the week (Wednesday, Thursday, Friday) so will be blogging again soon. And paying a few calls. Right now I need some sleeeeep.


Amie said...

Since I just got back from vacation, my mind is not yet up to the challenge. i'll try it later when I'm in my creative mood ;)

Jilly Jargon said...

The house is cold, damp and empty when I wake at six. I am alone
A knock, a call - there's someone at the back door. Do they want to come in?
I tumble down the stairs. It's Stan, the postman. He admires my blue check pyjamas - and reveals that he is a Jehova's Witness.
I let him talk for four or five minutes, then promise to read his little leaflet. He goes away.
My mother comes to find me where I'm sitting on the sofa, reading yesterday's paper and rubbing my thumb which is sore and swollen like Cissy's - yes, even cowgirls get the blues.
Mum joins me, so does Judydog, who quietly begins to crunch the food left by the fire for Alfiepuss.
I contemplate Chelsea's rise to the top of the Premiership and the wonderful bat mitzvah yesterday and I'm filled with Sunday morning contentment
Comfortingly secure in the haitus which comes between the rush of last week and the pressing work of the week to come.
It's a good life.

Roger Stevens said...

That's very good. Okay Jilly Jargon, you win the prize!
(See me later.)

Alex said...

I overslept
Dreaming of slithering snakes hissing and racing horses
Black snakes and white horses
Two snakes and a horse.
I thought Ka was a yellow python and Bagheera a black panther
But this war of snakes and horses
Leaves me tired, torn
I will wake up early from now on.

Alex said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Marginalien said...

Spangled eels surged up out of my morning coffee cup
Spluttering and gurgling as they came -
Viridian, carmine, gamboge and ultramarine were they
Twenty or more, surging across the tablecloth.
Babette would have cooked them tenderly
A shark would have eaten them raw
O joyously, fervently wriggling fishy folk!
So bright today, so dead tomorrow.

Ubermensch said...

My pennies,
Sunday workday.
Woes of blue.
All second december sundays
are marked for inventory ,
a dogs day,
sadly he tells everyone

Ostrich said...

The sunrise came as a big surprise
Clanging like a fire engine
Red, vermillion like Albino eyes
1 big giant orb of mention,

like prometheus on the vast horizon
running like little piggie to market.
Wondered if today would be the one
I'd tell my boss just where to park it.

balihai said...

Sunrises to a sudden Swahili shudder, a beautiful bird beaks
"Putroo, putrro” a DJ scratch, the left claw imitates
Only then the purple highlighted albino macaw whispers,
"Forty-two, as an answer, solves most problems;
Hey! Munchkin Land is where I met you last, you timid lion!"
Pride unfurled, I roar a murmur, "Fifty! Fifty times I copulate in a day.
Jealousy doesn’t live here; the she-lions kill only the magick-untouched.
Gypsy crystal balls, I am told, are used reference."

DailyLinks said...

Hey, you have a great blog here! I'm definitely going to bookmark you!

I have a Cold Sore site/blog. It pretty much covers Cold Sore related stuff.

Come and check it out if you get time :-)

harvey said...

Nice blog I have one myself great idea Special

Egal Bohen said...

Sea Glass Blue

Helen Mary
Seeks the blue
Sea worn glass
Beside the pool
Where the tide lays
On the shore
By rocks
Small stones
Sea fairies store
Though green glass glistens
On white sand
By oceans sent
To touch her hand
Helen Mary
Seeks only
Sea glass blue

Egal Bohendlefa

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