I don’t not know if this form has a proper name. It is however my default poetic form using cadence and rhyme to drive it. I don’t know if I ever matured beyond Dr Seuss, but there is something in it that speaks to the inner me.
Colleen’s last poetry challenge of 2020, is to write a poem about hope, using our favourite poetry form (and on this occasion, it doesn’t have to be syllabic). She asks that we make these poems inspirational to others.
She stipulates that we should avoid negativity and politics.
We are to also tell us why the specific form we chose is our favourite.
Gladys looked at her schedule and a shiver shot through her spine. 11 AM Rapunzel, she read and then took a deep breath. “I’ve got this,” she said aloud remembering last month’s visit. She remembered that appointment all to well. “A wash and a blow dry. How hard could it be?” she had said over the phone with no idea what she was getting herself into. This time I’ll be ready, she said to herself glancing over to the wall she had prepared just for such situations.
One of the American classic pies is Sweet Potato Pie. It is similar in many ways to Pumpkin Pie, but has its own unique qualities. Sweet Potatoes are also generally easier to access in the UK outside of Autumn. The pie is relatively easy to make and has approximately 445 calories in a 1/6 pie slice (or 223 if you are going with the 12 slice approach).
Prepare pie crust and set aside. Then prepare 16 ounces of sweet potato by boiling (approximately 50 minutes if doing a whole potato) or baking (about 80 minutes at 200C/ 390 F). Preheat oven (if using boiling method) to 175 C/ 350 F). When potato is ready peel and place flesh on a large mixing bowl along with softened butter, eggs, and spices. Mash together then add marmalade and condensed milk. Blend well with a hind mixer until smooth. Pour mixture into pie crust and bake on middle shelf for approximately 40 minutes or until nicely golden. Remove from oven and let cool (or chill) before serving.
The invaders had intercepted and decoded the last desperate communications of the defenders. It had said, “Communications Compromised! Refugees use protocols to Safe Zone.” One such “protocol” was a spray-painted sign at an obscure crossroads. It read “Gone North.” On discovering this, Lieutenant Role of the occupying force posted a lookout near the place to see if it was in fact one of the defenders’ instructions. Within an hour the observer reported a band of about fifty refugees and handful of soldiers approaching the sign and then turning West. Role ordered the word “North” removed to symbolise the Resistance’s future.
The challenge this week was to write about a song that includes Odor/Scent/Smell/Taste. While Weird Al’s Smells Like Nirvana doesn’t technically have the words in the lyrics, it is however the song’s title. The song is a parody of Smells Like Teen Spirit by the band Nirvana. Weird Al released it in April 1992 as both an album tract, and as a single. It reached Number 35 on the US Billboard chart.
What is this song all about? Can’t figure any lyrics out How do the words to it go I wish you’d tell me, I don’t know
Now I’m mumblin’, and I’m screamin’ And I don’t know what I’m singin’ Crank the volume, ears are bleedin’ I still don’t know what I’m singin’ We’re so loud and incoherent Boy, this oughta bug your parents
Yeah Blergh HaaiIt’s unintelligible I just can’t get it through my skull It’s hard to bargle nawdle zouss With all these marbles in my mouth
Well, we don’t sound like Madonna Here we are now, we’re Nirvana Sing distinctly, we don’t wanna Buy our album, we’re Nirvana A garage band from Seattle Well, it sure beats raisin’ cattle YeahAnd I forgot the next verse Oh, well, I guess it pays to rehearse The lyric sheet’s so hard to find What are the words? Oh, never mind
Unn awoke and scratched at his beard. It was cold, and the embers of the fire near the cavemouth were barely glowing. He added some dry moss and attempted to blow them back into life, but his efforts were futile. He dreaded the thought of having to trudge through the snow to his brother’s dwelling to ask for fire yet again. But need prompted him to go see Urn anyway. Unn and clan’s three women that lived with Urn, watched in admiration as Urn struck stones together and sparks emerged. Urn was one bright troglodyte.
Carol and Jean met every month for a coffee morning. They had been friends since high school, but their day to day lives had largely grown apart. Nonetheless, they did still enjoy their times to reminisce and catch up.
One January Carol remarked, “My Howard was ‘Associate of Year’ for the third year in a row. You won’t believe the bonus we got.”
“Jamie keeps us comfortable, and we always have enough to eat,” Jean replied with a smile.
In March, the conversation turned to summer plans. “We have two weeks in Hawaii this year. Hot and cold running everything,” Carol boasted.
“I think we will be visiting the Jamies’ mum at the coast. Debbie and Rory really love seeing their Nan, and exploring the beach,” Jean explained.
April found Carol talking about their new Jaguar and its heated leather seat. “And Howard negotiated such an amazing deal as well. He is so clever.”
“Our ‘Bessie,” as Jean called their Ford, “has character, I would hate to think of trading her in before her time. She’s part of the family.”
In May, Carol noted that, “A big push is on, and Howard is putting in some long hours, but who knows a Partnership might just be in sight.”
“Jamie’s home straight from work in the evenings, and plays with the kids before dinner,” Jean said with a reflective smile.
The July meeting found Carol explaining how Howard had been away on a couple of extended business trips, but that he brought back the most exquisite gifts. “In fact, this past weekend, he took me on a five star break in London, and a shopping spree in Knightsbridge.”
“That sounds lovely,” Jean commented. “Jamie never goes away for work and that’s just find with me. I can’t even imagine sleeping a night alone.”
In September, Carol showed off her holiday photos, and the new pearls Howard had got her.
“Jamie’s never gotten me pearls, but I know he loves me from the little things he does,” Jean said.
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Carol replied with a hint of condescension.
In October, the coffee meet started much as normal. The Carol abruptly screamed and broke into tears. “I can’t believe he’s leaving me for that tart receptionist of his. I always knew she was trouble.”
“I am so so sorry Carol,” Jean said as compassionately as she could. “I can’t even imagine what that feels like.” Jeanie really couldn’t imagine it, nor would she ever have to.