Three Ideas For The Price Of One (Poems, Stories Etc)

OK so - 'tis Poetry Bus Time again and this week my single solitary idea for a pome was so grim that I thought I'd best follow it with a few things to cheer you up again and get you all talking.

As you know by now Total Feckin Eejit has stated good claim to be the owner of the Blog that Guiness would run if Guiness ran blogs (IE probably the best) and instigator of the Poetry Bus.

At the moment the bus is on tour and different past participants are taking it in turn to drive (look out for my stint behind the wheel in late June)

This week I had the pleasant experience of discovering a new blog via the bus as I ventured to Barbara’s Bleeuugh! for the first time and was set the challenge of starting a poem with "I got down on my knees and smelled the new linoleum..."

Out Of Gas

I got down on my knees and smelled the new linoleum
Picked up the heavy jar full of liquid petroleum
Struck up the match, held it over my head
Wished that I had gone and bought shagpile instead

OK - told you it was grim. So - idea number two is a quick one that I saw on a comedy programme last night, but which appealed to my sense of surreallness. The idea is the science of Oppositism.

So - you probably think that the opposite of a knife is a fork - but think about the function of a knife: it's to cut things. So the opposite of a knife would be glue.

And the purpose of hair is to keep the top of your head warm - so the opposite would be some kind of ice hat.

I'm sure many fun hours can be spent with following this idea to it's illogical ends so will leave you to devise your own.

And finally a return to Raven's Wordzzle's - a challenge that a few more of the Poetry Bussers might enjoy having a go at.

Raven sets a list of words: five, ten or fifteen depending on how adventurous you are feeling - and the idea is to encorporate them into stories (or poems, guys)

This week I've decided to stick to the mini: eggs over easy, lawn mower, forgiveness, cold shoulder, chipper and bring you an idea that has been lurking in my head for a day or so:

Are We There Yet?

Sir Henry Polkington-Smythe 3rd took a moment to look around at the view and did his best to breathe in a full lungful of air in the thin atmosphere. Despite the long climb and hard work he was feeling quite chipper and rather pleased with himself

"Ah Ptolome, we have made it"

Ptolome, the long suffering guide, who had done all the actual hard work of planning the route to the summit, carrying the bags and, one one occasion, pulling a particularly nasty thorn out of somewhere unpleasant, merely nodded and grunted as if he had done nothing more than reach the local bus stop.

Sir Henry ignored the guide, giving him the cold shouder as he took a second to think of some inspiring words, "I, Sir Henry Polkington-Smythe the third, do hereby claim Mount Bloodyhardgoing for Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth. By the grace of God may this mountain be forever a part of England"

There was a polite round of applause, so nearby that it took Sir Henry a moment to realise that it wasn't Ptolome. He looked around and saw the two old-aged pensioners staring politely at him over a mug of tea

"Nicely done lad, very inspiring" said the old man

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Sir Henry enquired

"Mr and Mrs Jenkins" said Mr Jenkins, with a gesture requesting forgiveness as he turned his attention back to the small stove that had been set on the rug just three foot from Sir Henry's now rather sad looking British flag, "I'll have my eggs over easy dear" Mr Jenkins said to his wife, "how about you?" Mrs Jenkins just nodded and pushed her false teeth back into her mouth so she wouldn't have to gum the food to death

"But..." Sir Henry tried to fathom what had happened, "I've just spent two weeks climbing up this mountain - the first explorer to reach the summit..." he trailed off as he realised that what he had initially thought to be a walking stick was actually the handle of a lawnmower

"Really?" Mr Jenkins said with a frown, "Barbara and I have been coming up this hill every wednesday for a picnic since we were fourteen. Normally we bring the dog, but he's not feeling well today"

"Hill???" Sir Henry nearly shouted, "But I nearly fell and broke my neck on the north face sixteen times!!!"

"Yes" Mr Jenkins said, "we saw that" He paused, "You know you really should have used the steps like everyone else around here does"

"EVERYONE ELSE!!!!!"

"Yes" Said Mr Jenkins as he got up and started folding the blanket, "Come on, I'll take you to the gift shop and tell you all about it"