Another limerick, cos I’m low on energy & been napping sitting up at my computer. 5 to go …
The lovely fat lady with a crutch
perhaps is eating a wee bit too much
———cramming in scone eleven
———with her cream tea in Devon
before exploding at the waiter’s touch.
Oh dear, grandma’s gone to heaven …
Next on the agenda: #52
This was a poem which presented many choices. Yet, surprising myself, I went a different way than I thought. (One of those out of nowhere experiences.)
#11
Legs’s Eleven.
for the first time in a decade
i am remembering Harry Mulroney
nicknamed Legs because his were short
a fresh faced boy as he remains to me
though when i knew him, of course
i was about that young too
played cricket in the same team
as head-in-the-cloud teenagers
he was the wildly talented captain
whereas, i, was just wild
good friends, only semi-close in the way
boys often must stay, not best mates
yet we talked of renting a place
in the city, when we went there to study
two country kids planning for uni
most around us had no such goal
we’d talk about it for hours, at training
in the car to away games, making the idea safe
yet as he was a few years younger
i went before him & we slipped apart
another precious thing lost
for reasons i still don’t understand
#87. Dammit, one off the other call I really wanted 🙂
The dictionary defines “duck and dive” as — using one’s ingenuity to deal with or evade a situation. & that’s exactly what I’m about to do now with my next poem.
#25
the water fowl went
———–beneath
the surface of the lake
Wahoo! It seems right that I should get to do perhaps the most famous call of all. Legs Eleven. Not sure what I’m gonna do with it yet though. (After a rocky start, my fingers are pulling out better numbers lately: that’s sure to jinx it!)
A slightly post-modern, self-referential metafictional style poem — which, when I was doing my preparations, I thought I’d be excited to see the #1 come up, but when it arrived, I was like “Oh no, I have no energy for all that”. But it was actually fairly easy flowing. I kinda like the end product (good jumping off point for revision hopefully) … & it uses every call I found about number 1 — including a very modern one. So pretty chuffed. Plus if I upload it quickly, I’ll get 20 minutes off.
#01
i am the B1 baby
first on the board
at the beginning
of all time
i am little Jimmy
who sees with Kelly’s eye
lack of sleep means
i don’t always make sense
but when i do
— Nelson’s column —
i am the son of a gun
top of the pops
number ace
Bernie’s formula
means i win the race
now if only someone would
make me a number three
& maybe butter a scone
but i’d better not lie down
or my marathon will be gone
More 5’s — #25
Arrrrghhh this was a tough one. Ended up creating a so-so poem using a range of pick n mix candy/sweet names.
#26
fruit sours
& an apple drops
as the flying saucer
sherbets overhead
skittles warheads
toxic waste
atomic fireballs
liquorice ropes
with a sour
rainbow twist
#1. First one of the lot 🙂
Two fairytale-esque pieces that I was working on simultaneously & ran out of time on each. The Mother Goose mash-up replaces the traditional end of lines from the nursery rhyme, with the relevant bingo call. The plot, such that it is, kinda dictated itself based on the pre-exisiting rhymes.
#32
There was a young gal covered in tattoos
Who only knew how to buckle her shoes
—–—–But would Cinderella
—–—–Have landed her fella
If she wore more than ink … & her Jimmy Choo’s
*****
A Dark Mother Goose Bingo Mashup
One, two,
—–all you can do is buckle your shoe;
Three, four,
—–wait for that knock at the door;
Five, six,
—–when silent screen hero Tom Mix;
Seven, eight,
—–rides up to the garden gate:
Nine, ten,
—–finally you’ll be free of Dave’s Den;
Eleven, twelve,
—–one dozen years here you’ve dwelled
Thirteen, fourteen,
—–since Valentine’s Day 2003;
Fifteen, sixteen,
—–sweet sixteen never been seen
Seventeen, eighteen,
—–coming of age, living in a cage
Nineteen, twenty,
—–one score to settle, none too gently
#26. Hmmm, could be tricky…
PS now have 3 out 5 for my first possible BINGO of the day.
#65
The end of entitlement, or how to get a Newstart in life
the wisdom of Treasurer Joe Hockey on how to work the system
despite industrialisation taking jobs away &/or offshore
our beloved bumbler, believes we should now all work
til we’re 70 before becoming eligible for the age pension
free visits to a doctor, free welfare — no such thing
it’s a safety net, not a cargo net, unless you’re a whale
so here’s some steps to get ahead courtesy of Count Flappy
1. (obviously) don’t get sick, or if you must, don’t visit your GP
2. if you’re poor, don’t drive cars (that’ll save you plenty)
then all you have to do is
3.
get a good job that pays good money
in order to buy your first home
a politician is a pretty good one (if you’re up for it)
then you can charge taxpayers $1000 a month
to sleep in your wife’s $2 million home
Here endeth the lesson.
(Except no doubt Mr Millipede
will put yet another gaffe prone foot
in his mouth again, within a week)
#32. Whoop-de-do!
Limericks are (supposedly) not limericks unless they are obscene, ergo, not one for the contemplated collection of children’s verse. I like limericks (at least today) cos this one has earned me a 40 minute break!
#10
There once was a man from Number 10
Downing Street — The PM’s Den.
————Although not politic
————he sure did like to lick
& stuck his tongue up many a hen.
#65. It’s doable. Possibly a political poem.
Five is my lucky number, so I was very pleased when this number came out of the hat. So much so I’ve got two poems up for your delectation. I wish I had a chance to give the first one, one more verse, but oh well.
#55
1.
snakes alive
give us a bunch
it’s all the fives
some famous
some jackson
& one renault
no prizes
for picking
the odd one
out
clearly the Renault 5
French supermini
aka Super 5
aka Supercinq
aka Le Car
true to its number
they built nearly
5.5 million of em
take that Timmy
& Tito too
*****
2.
— snakes alive!
the sort of
interjection
my mother
spouts at the footy
to vent her
frustration
contempt
disgust
with how
the game
is proceeding
& the players
performing
along with other
almost obsolete
idioms as:—
— alack & alas!
— boomshanka!
— ay, ay, chihuahua!
sometimes it seems
as if she wants to be a pirate
with her:— cor blimey!’s
— blooming heck!’s
— shiver me timber!ing
— gee whillikers!
— suffering suckatash!
& — gadzooks!
a vendetta
against god’s creatures:—
— loveaduck!
— leapin’ lizards!
— jiminy crickets!
— holy mackerel!
— ye gods & little fishes!
other times she berates
people not even present:—
— jumping Jehoshaphat!
— Jiminy Cricket!
— my giddy aunt!
— blimey charlie!
& then there’s the ones
that simply make no sense:—
— och aye the noo!
— pish posh migosh!
& — thunderations above!
& she wonders
why i’ve taken up
macramé
#10. Another low number. Though I think I’m due a short poem soon.
Hitting double digits on the poem count, the spoonfuls of coffee are getting bigger & I’ve had to do something I was hoping to avoid — making a kind of list poem using occurrences of things twenty — but I can’t get bogged down here… still 14 to go.
#20
20th in the letter lineup
T & the hebrew kaph
double x
in the roman way
two times double x
is perfect sight
6/6 the metric equivalent
(which doesn’t sound as cool)
a very fast form
of rock star cricket
the number of questions
you may ask me
the end of teenagerhood
the beginning of true angst
the third magic number
in physics
for calling egypt
calcium’s weight
the IAU shower number
for Coma Berenicids
(also not that impressive
it’s only a minor meteor after all)
& the number of matchboxes
to make a crap pop band
#55. Jackpot! This better be a goodun’.
gareth roi poet boi 