I’m na’ casting me clout

Ne’er cast ya clout til May is out. Ha! With the great British weather as it is, I’m na’ casting out my clout regardless of the month. Soo in April there was a frost somewhere every dang night, chilly you say, well it would seem so. Friday morning as carer arrived, in the time it took her to get from car to my door there was rain-heavy rain- hail, chunks of stinging balls of ice! Mother Nature is off her meds again, or her grandkids flipped her calendar back to February.

So … how are things? Been anywhere? Looking forward to being out and about with the great unwashed? I know what you mean, it’s too peopley out there *shudder*

I scrolled back to my list, can you believe it was as far back as 20th March! Time has done it’s thing, still feeling a bit groundhog but the days are lighter for longer. Anyway, as they say, previously

• Add crochet border to red cat blanket – started yesterday but run out of that colour.
• Start the Alan Davies book – I’m about half way through
• Check domain registry dates – did that, all good until next year
• Go through iTunes genre – classified the blank, tweaked others
• File images accumulated – mostly, sort of done ish

So my to do list is lacking the mastermind effort (I’ve started so I’ll finish). In my defence April got taken over with writing a poem everyday and reading all the other excellent, poignant, hilarious, rude, epic verses.

May, I have decided will be crochet month, each day I will do some, hopefully getting a blanket to grow across a week, maybe a toy or two across the weekend. Ohh, I wrote a poem about that…..

I'm a little hooker
Not short nor stout
Sometimes I swear
Often I pout

You mucky minded readers
Keep your trap shut
It's not what you're thinking
None of your smut

Yarn over, pull through
Yarn over, pull through two,
Front post, half double,
Twiddle deftly is what I do

Blankets for the pussy cats
Toys of fish and mice
A gift to Cats Protection
Because I'm really nice

 

#NaPoMo concluded

I must admit there were times went I felt myself going mildly cuckoo as I wrangled to make things rhyme or when rhyming couplets spewed forth like a native second language. Still, I have completed the challenge, a poem per day.

Last time I bored you with a few of my attempts. Well buckle in dear reader, here we go…again!

Our lovely group leader posted a picture of a fun fare, think charactered postcard, as a prompt to rhyme.

Yesterday at the funfair, There was so much to do
Throwing for coconuts, Hooking a duck or two 
Crash banging on the dodgems, Screaming at the ghost
Stopped atop the Ferris wheel, Sure scared me the most
Eating hot dogs and candy floss, Galloping around the carousel
Sliding down the helter skelter, I started to feel unwell 
With all that motion and excitement, The injested sugar and grease
My inside started to heave, It had to be released 
Sorry Mr Tristrum I tried my very best
Apologies for spewing all down your bright striped vest.

Another bright thought in the wee hours, triggered by a podcast I was falling asleep to

I love an oxymoron they often make me laugh
Like being 'slightly pregnant', or choosing the 'larger half'

Being 'weirdly normal', when you're 'clearly misunderstood'
My 'unbiased opinion' tell me these are 'terribly good'

I feel your 'deafening silence', hear your 'dull roar'
From 'growing small' with 'intense apathy', wait I have more

How 'awfully good' was that 'crash landing'
What about a 'civil war' or being 'found missing'

It really is the 'living end' how 'seriously funny' these get
'Good grief', it is 'properly ridiculous' and yet

They're 'openly deceptive' and leave 'only choice'
Our language is ridiculous But it's our only voice 

I found the challenge of haiku and fib syllable patterns quite enjoyable.

One
Nine
Thirty
Twenty six
Forty four, sixteen
Bugger, no Jackpot win, again

As for the last day, well…….

When April returns in 2022
Wanting another each day
You can if you want to
I'll be running the other way!

I’ve kept all my creations in a document, after a month or four I’ll re-read them and groan, maybe blush a little that I put them in public view.

 

Rhyme Time (#NaPoMo)

April is National Poetry Month, across the cyber world people attempt to grapple and wrangle with their language to conjure something of power, of poignancy, or amusement. Poetry is one of those forms that has many variations, from the syllable structure of hiaku, tanka and fib, the free form structure (isn’t that a contradiction terms, an oxymoron), limerick, sonnet, the list goes on.

Many moons ago in the blogging days of the defunct bcuk.com a group of us would game play with words, write short stories, poems, enjoy the weekly Friday fives, Wednesday wordle and alike. A few of us are in a private Facebook group and have been enticed (read cajoled) into taking part in the write a poem everyday.

Now I am no bard, I struggle enough just writing a blog. My levels of imagination swing between non-existent to fleeting sparks. Yet somehow I seem to have ended up joining in and I might admit begrudgingly that one or two of my attempts ain’t too too bad. I shall now proceed to bore you all with a few, please feel free to vacate now if you wish.

Let’s start with a light limerick

There once was a man from Nantucket 
Who was troubled by the hole in his bucket
Eliza suggested
Henry then tested
Until they conceded to chuck it

A haiku follows a syllable pattern of 5-7-5.

Procrastination 
Is my new occupation
Until tomorrow 

A fib poem follows the syllable pattern 1-1-2-3-5-8, and I was attempting one when the death of HRH The Prince Phillip, Duke of Edinburgh was announced

Gone
Dead
Grieving
Such a brain
Such a character
None like him will be seen again

The acrostic style is where the first letter of each line spells something out

Nonchalant 
Openly inquisitive
Through my window creeps
Mannered and quiet
Yet expecting
Chair, blanket or lap
And caresses on head and chin
This cat of not mine

There there is the more traditional comfortable style

Fight The Rhyme, is the new rallying call
We'll storm the libraries, we'll march to Whitehall.
April has been high jacked, It's becoming quite the strain
More addictive than hippie crack, the effort quite the drain.
It's sneaky and enticing, You're teased with a simple ploy
Just a few to start with, to release those endorphins of joy.
A little harmless game, it's fun, a poem a day
Before you know it you're caught, and with headaches you pay.
I am here to make a stand, to stop this engulfing all of us
If you need help, reach out, to Poets Anonymous.

Websites like thesaurus.com, rhymezone.com and syllablecounter.net have seen their hit rate sky rocket into the stratosphere.

Right then, off to wrestle with tomorrow’s attempt.

 

Beyond My Window

The world beyond my window
Is in a bit of a state
With pandemics, plastics and pollution,
Deforestation and nuclear waste.

The world beyond my window
Is in a state of fear
With anger, riots and violence,
Police suited in riot gear.

The world beyond my window
Is sometimes blue and green,
With life and light and untold
Beauty to be seen.

The world beyond my window
Was somewhere to explore,
Rolling on the high seas,
Rocking around a dance floor.

The world beyond my window
Is removed from me,
Years and decades have flown by
While my mind thinks it 1993.

The world beyond my window
Is somewhere I don't pursue,
It's not because of Covid
More nothing I can do.

The world beyond my window
Continues without me,
My ability has passed
To work, drive and spree.

The world beyond my window
Has become out of reach.
My access is now virtual
And that's a dreadful pastiche

 

A Ditty For National Poetry Month

Poets are looking to rhyme corvid19

That has put us all in quarantine.

First some people act as an unruly teen

Behaving the worst I’ve ever seen.

But what can we glean

From this growing scene.

Of their stockpiled pasta and Andrex clean,

Of groups congregating, turning mean.

A few with the kind hearted gene

Volunteering to help and shop for cuisine

Deliver food and much needed caffeine

A smile and a wave through windows clean.

Perhaps there is much we can glean,

Society may not be pristine

But during times of the unforeseen

Acts of consideration are not few and far between.

©️AnneMarie2020

 

Dark December Days

Dark December days

Leeching life’s lustre 

Morphing melancholic moods

Damp drizzle descends
Languid leaves loam

Freezing frosts form

Dreck drizzle drops

Sleet slams skin

Mental motivation missing

Damp decay deforms

Winds whip wildly

Endless echoes emanate 

December drags deeper

 

Reposting a Christmas Poem

Christmas is coming, The goose is getting fatThe TV Ads are blaring, giving it all that.
Mum is busy stressing, what gifts there are to buy

No socks, pants or smells, harder she must try.
The stick tape’s gone missing, the bows won’t even stick

She watched all the videos to find the wrapping trick.
The decorations are dusty from storage in the attic,

The waving snowman should move but he standing there all static
The cats gone up the tree again, the baubles won’t survive,

The dogs been at the mince pies, the hamsters at the chive.
The kids are all excited at the gifts beneath the tree

Trying to shake and feel and find which one’s for me.
Dad’s no help, he’s snoring, he’s sampled the christmas punch

Mum needs a bigger oven to cook the christmas lunch.
Turkey roast and turkey stew, and turkey curry too

Anyone for more sprouts, the gravy turned to goo.
Come Boxing Day it’s all over, well it is for some,

One is still working, you know her, she’s called Mum.
As you raise a glass to toast and welcome the New Year,

Just 359 days until Christmas again is here.

 

Festive Stress

I am sure I wrote something similar one christmas ago, might have been on a community group over on the departed and deleted BCUK.  Anyway here is something rattling around my head [anything to avoid the wrapping].

Christmas is coming, The goose is getting fat
The TV Ads are blaring, giving it all that.

Mum is busy stressing, what gifts there are to buy
No socks, pants or smells, harder she must try.

The stick tape’s gone missing, the bows won’t even stick
She watched all the videos to find the wrapping trick.

The decorations are dusty from storage in the attic,
The waving snowman should move but he standing there all static

The cats gone up the tree again, the baubles won’t survive,
The dogs been at the mince pies, the hamsters at the chive.

The kids are all excited at the gifts beneath the tree
Trying to shake and feel and find which one’s for me.

Dad’s no help, he’s snoring, he’s sampled the christmas punch
Mum needs a bigger oven to cook the christmas lunch.

Turkey roast and turkey stew, and turkey curry too
Anyone for more sprouts, the gravy turned to goo.

Come Boxing Day it’s all over, well it is for some,
One is still working, you know her, she’s called Mum.

As you raise a glass to toast and welcome the New Year,
Just 359 days until Christmas  again is here.

 

Take Time To See

I wrote this many years ago.

Why don’t you take time to see
The wonderment inside of me
Instead you just stand and stare
Not focusing past the metal wheelchair
It’s easy for you to turn away
I have to live in it day after day
Viewing the world just three foot tall
Being patronised belittled made to feel small
It may surprise you to know
That I can laugh and sing and show
The world what it’s not ready to see
An intelligent loving enlightened person like me
So next time you see me as I roll by
Happy contented head held high
Just think, I’m your biggest regret
Remember there is a chance yet
For you to take time to see
The wonderment that is me