Is inspiration failing you this week? Then why not give my latest writing challenge a go?
Option one: Write a limerick with the word TROUBLE in it somewhere
Option two: Write a poem on the theme of FEAR
Option three: Write a twenty-word story using all of the following words: BARBARIC, ECONOMY, NUN, TRIVIA, QUANDARY and LOVE
Last week option one was to write a limerick with the word PARTY featuring in it somewhere. Here are the results –
I could read a whole book of Keith Channing‘s limericks and still want more:
First we must invite Russell Harty
And never forget Moriarty.
Once we have that pair
We’re near halfway there
To the world’s most exceptional party.
When moving into a new city
You must choose a house that is pretty.
A party’s a must
To gain neighbours’ trust
If not, your new life will be… erm… gritty?
When faced with a boss who’s imperious,
Whose attitude is deleterious,
You must remain hearty,
Accept life’s a party
And not something that should be serious.
The parties have made their selection
After round upon round of rejection.
The doves and the hawks
Both accept money talks,
But they’ll still never win the election.
A shrewd speculator invested
In a seat that was safe – uncontested.
The party believed
That it was well conceived,
But it hadn’t been properly tested.
And my weekly challenges aren’t quite the same if Graeme Sandford doesn’t treat us with his own unique limericks:
Party Limerick #1
If I write you a Limerick about a party
And it’s good I will feel such a smarty
But, if it’s not
And the party is grot
Then I may just have to go back to the starty.
Party Limerick #2
A party once held in East Finchley
Was never mentioned in Limericks
I wonder why
Maybe it’s because
East Finchley is not that easy to rhyme.
Party Limerick #3
The cake and the jelly were flowing
The music showed no sign of slowing
But, then, the worst
The big bubble burst
And the politicians denied what they were knowing.
Party Limerick #4a and #4b
Parties come and parties go
Some in the sun some in the snow
By the pool
Act the fool
Jelly and ice cream, cake and co.
That’s not really a Limerick about a party
I was just being clever, trying to be a smarty
But, you know it’s my way
It how I am on my birthday
Oh, no, that is next week, silly tart, me!
Party Limerick #5a and #5b and #5c (parts 1&2) and #5d
I’m on the party line listening to your conversation
The year is nineteen seventy one in this nation
I was calling my girl
Now my head’s in a whirl
As I struggle to comprehend your elation.
You had a cake and some jelly
Watched the black and white telly
Played games
Kissed James
But, not Nigel, because he is smelly.
I’m Nigel and at your party I had some cake
Sang ‘Happy Bugday’ and stepped on a rake
Fell into your pond
And of you, I was fond
But, I think that I made a mistake
By spraying myself with Mum’s perfume
From a bottle I found in her room
Channel no.5 it did say
So I did gleefully spray
The whole of myself – thus my doom.
Is to be thought of as a smell and to annoy
Whose reeking was not greeted with joy
That’s why outside
I was seeking to hide
Until I floated in your pond like a buoy.
Party Limerick #6
There once was a man at this party
Who looked just like the late Russell Harty
I said ‘Are you him’
He said ‘Are you dim?
He’s been dead for some years – but, hey, in his honour let us party!’
It’s my great pleasure to welcome Al Lane for the first time, with an entertaining limerick:
A peculiar man cried “Pinch me!
For it’s Christmas and I’m feeling all Grinchy
I haven’t cracked a smile
In a good long while
But apparently that’s normal for Finchley.”
David Harrison has been away but is back with two laugh out loud limericks:
A lobster in mood hail and hearty
Pulled a mussel at a drinks party
But she said “I am
Engaged to a clam
He’s slimmer than you and more arty.”
At a bash the Labour party
Invited a girl very tarty
Then Jeremy said
“Ask Yvette instead
She’s clever and far less warty.”
Option two was for a poem on the theme of SUMMER. Enjoy this thought-provoking read from Rajiv Chopra:
In the West, they love the summer
In India, it can be a bummer.
They love the sun right after the winter,
But here, it burns us to a small cinder.
This year it is hot – hotter than ever,
Memories of pleasant days have gone forever.
Our world is burning, who is to blame?
God, The Devil, or man – who bears the shame?
We blame El Nino, we blame the sun,
Then we blame Nature for spoiling our fun.
We drain the taps; we think we’re cool.
Then cry when there’s no water to fill the pool.
Our need for goods just grows and grows,
To feed us, the factories, they blow the fumes.
We ask ourselves why – why is summer so hot?
In our web of greed, we are always caught.
“It burns us, it burns us,” cried poor Smeagol
No Elven rope, our deeds burn us all.
But we need our summer, the sun is good,
It feeds us, it nourishes us, and gives us our food.
So, let’s not blame God, nor The Devil himself,
Let’s put blaming fingers back on the shelf.
The animals and plants can hold us to treason
If we continue to spoil, this very special season.
I love this very British poem from Jason Moody:
I’ve waited a while
For you to show
We’ve put up with wind
Rain and some snow
We’ve been rather British
And simply made do
So we ask you again
What time are you due?
My swim trunks are crumpled
Asleep in a drawer
They’re doing nowt
Not what they’re made for
My milk bottle legs
They long for some rays
Sat on soft beaches
For long lazy days
So when are you coming?
This waiting is a bummer
Yesterday you teased
Now, can we please have a summer?
Geoff Le Pard has written one of his stunning poems. Please click on the following link to read it:
https://geofflepard.com/2016/05/10/thoughts-on-the-bomb-poetry-poem/
Option three asked you to write a twenty-word story using all of the following words: BOB, TIRADE, MYTH, NOSE, METTLE and CRESCENDO. Read the hilarious stories sent in:
Rajiv Chopra impressed me with his speed of entry:
The crescendo of cacophony voices broke Bob’s nose. The myth that he could hold his mettle against noise was shattered.
Jason Moody sent in a funny one:
“Argos. Terrible service, it’s no myth,” groaned Bob, nose slightly out of joint.
His mettle tested, his tirade, a crescendo.
David Harrison finishes the challenge with a wonderful story:
Bob was on his mettle when someone suggested his nose was big.
“It’s a myth!” His tirade reached a crescendo.
***
Ailsa, the barbaric Nun, was sat in economy. Her love of trivia put her in a quandary about flying Virgin.
“I’m in a quandary,” said the Nun.
“I know. Your love of barbaric trivia has ruined the economy,” replied God.
Economy love is trivia to a caring nun who views a picture of barbaric Hun and goes into a quandary!
This is great. Thank you 🙂
The nerds in the room were in trouble
As they had lost contact with Hubble
They had sweaty palms
And this raised alarms
As they were called to the boss on the double.
Good one, Jason!
I’m still very much Charlton Athletic to your Barcelona!
Don’t sell yourself short, Jason – apart from which, as a rank amateur, I’m more Longford AFC than Barcelona!
Don’t do yourself down, Jason. You’re very talented. 🙂
When I burst the forbidden bubble
I found myself in deep, deep trouble
Coz I had firmly been asked to refrain
From making unnecessary false and tall claims
For was I anything more than a mere “muggle”?
Very clever!
Little George craved a chocolatey Mars
But they were all stored away in posh jars
He grabbed it, it slipped
He’s in trouble, it’s chipped!
But thank God it wasn’t the Ming vase
The trouble with being a teen
Is that they’re predisposed to be mean
Sarcasm’s the law
Their manners are poor
And their bedrooms are rarely that clean
I have one like this at home!
Trouble is a song by Coldplay
And Chris Martin’s voice is Ok
I prefer the song Yellow
Because it’s quite mellow
But I prefer Shakespeare’s Sisters’ song, Stay
This is brilliant!
Trouble is a good friend of mine
He has been since I was nine
But as I grow old
I do as I’m told
And for me, I guess that’s just fine
“£1:50 for economy love hearts? That’s barbaric,” said the Nun.
“That’s the quandary,” smiled the shopkeeper, no hint of remorse.
Thank you so, so much for all these. Your writing is getting better and better 🙂
Really? ☺️
Yes, really! 🙂
Published today as Hubble, bubble, soil and trouble?
When NASA first sent up the Hubble
The blasted thing kept seeing double
To arrange a rebuttal
Brave men in a shuttle
Went up there and sorted the trouble
While her mother was wrist-deep in soap,
A child with a voice full of hope
Asked, “If it’s no trouble
Can you blow me bubble?”
Her mother said, “Go ask the Pope!”
The child thought her mum was referring
To the Papacy, known as unerring.
That the Bishop of Rome
Should trouble their home,
Is an outcome she was not inferring.
A Pope came – ‘twas Dave from the quarry
Turned up in a herfing great lorry
Not bringing her trouble,
Just a truckload of rubble
“Ten quid,” he said, “or you’ll be sorry”
The mum said, “In here on the double
But first you must shave off your stubble.
I don’t like your tenor
But you do look like Ben Hur [groan]
So I’ll thank you quite well for your trouble.”
…and the child never did get her bubble
You clever man. Crackers!
Thanks, Jason.
Super! You don’t ever fail to produce something remarkable 🙂
“What do you mean I’m in trouble?”
“The woman said single, not double”
So I poured her another
And imagined her smothered
Under a ton of fresh rubble
“Nun?”
“Nope.”
“Barbaric?”
“Nope.”
“Love?”
“Nah.”
“Economy?”
“Way off.”
“I’m in a quandary. What is the password?”
“Im not telling.”
Very clever 🙂
“Economy?”
Sue was not pleased. She loved business. Mingling with the barbaric hoards? Ugh.
What a quandary for a Nun.
Ha! 🙂
Ooh. Loved. Sssh. Don’t tell anyone.
Lunchtime gossip was rife.
“Barbaric? A Nun?”
“She was in economy apparently”
“She’s in a right quandary now,poor love”
Another super duper one 🙂
Fear
Let not fear stroll anywhere near.
Should it find its way around,
You no longer remain sane or sound.
So trounce it beneath your feet
Before fear picks up & gathers heat.
The moment fear you do meet
Or face to face, fear you greet.
To thrash that gnawing emotion
Just call out loud and clear,
“Scoot you devil, why are you even here?”
I like this very much. Thank you 🙂
Hope it makes some sense.
Fear
Dark clouds gather and try to overpower
As fear turns monstrously big.
Rears its frightening face
My heart-beats pick up pace
Till they reach a crescendo
And my twirling thoughts an inferno
My within, emerges out
In fear I do shout.
But not a sound is heard;
Am terribly scared
My voice rooted in my chords.
Another good one. Very chilling 🙂
This my take on fear…poetic prose, least my take on it….
I’ve asked myself so many times if you are real, if you only exist because I want you to, that you only live and breathe on here, and in my imagination. I’ve replayed in my mind all we’ve ever said, tried to find the meaning, the truth of our feelings in the endless sea of words. Since a child I’ve had one fear, of drowning, I think I understand it now, of not hanging on, no matter what, to what means most to me, to you. Without you I feel I’m slipping away, out of my depth, unable to breath, beyond the reach of anyone, but you. You are my lifeline, my kiss of life, the reason my heart beats. You are real, a part of me, it’s the way it is.
I like your take on this. Thank you.
Here you are Esther
Story: The Nun was in love with trivia contests. But the barbaric economy put her in a quandary – to lose, or not?
The poem
Fear not fear, but fear thyself; You must not run, nor hide. Your lies will catch you in the end, And hurl you into your private Hell.
To look inside, we always fear; We hate to lose our myths so dear. Who shall meet us at The Gate? It’s not St Peter who seals our fate.
When the Doors of Death open wide, You’ll find there is no place to hide. No God, no Devil are in their place, All you see is your true face.
You fear Yama by the riverside; You fear his smiling face. He sees your soul, his eyes see all; They pierce you like a fiery ball.
Fear not fear, but fear thyself, You have tried to run and hide. Yama shows you your True Face, You seek redemption, and Death’s embrace.
I love both the story and the poem. Two contrasting pieces.
Thanks! Yes, they are quite contrasting. I think that there is a bit of savagery in the bit of verse
Couldn’t resist having a go at this 20 word thingy….
Blue nun, a quandary, no economy of words, makes love sounds, creates barbaric images, trivia doesn’t hack it for her!
Ha! I’m really glad you’ve had a go 🙂
The Trouble With Limericks
The trouble with Limerick-writing
Is at first they seem so inviting
But after a while
They don’t
And they really get up your nose.
Which is not to say I won’t write them
No, I shall still take the time to invite them
Ask them to tea
Or for a party
Or whatever they need to excite them.
All this may not appeal to a man from Wisconsin
Because Limericks are seldom about him
It’s not that he’s boring
He’s a (door-to-door) salesman of flooring
And it’s not our position to doubt him.
In fact, he’s a really nice fellow named Chuck
Which is ‘Charles’ in the mother place yUK
And if he has a fault
It’s his liking for malt
And his lack of a thing we call luck.
For example, last week on Friday the 13th
He was mowing his lawn when he pulled a muscle in his back
And,
As you can tell,
He doesn’t really fit the Limerick format that well.
Whereas, a pretty young lady from Kettering
Was in need of some knowledge for her bettering
She read in a book
About 50 shades to cook
And from her cooker she now needs unfettering.
This all goes to show that a Limerick
Is essential and not at all like a gimmerick
And a place it is too
And it also has a zoo
And a shop where you can buy saffron and turmeric.
G:)
As always, extremely witty 🙂
A one-eyed potato named Spudsey
Had a mate (who also had one eye) by the known name of Pudsey
But, he was no bare
For he had much hair
And at bath time he became Pudsey Sudsey!
The trouble with Spudsey was his eye
It was causing him pains, by and by
He went to the docs
In his jacket and socks
But, the doctor wasn’t an amicable guy
Spudsey’s hopes were dashed
So he went and got mashed
In a pub
Rub a dub
And then went over to Pudsey’s – where he crashed.
The tale of this potato’s sad life
With all of his troubles and strife
Did come to an end
When he realised his friend
Pudsey was firstly a girl, then his wife.
G:)
Laugh-out-loud funny :-))
NEWS HEADLINE.
“Barbaric actions of the government leave economy in a quandary.”
“Interesting headline, I love it,” said the Nun.
You’re getting so clever at these 🙂
“These economy tissues are barbaric on ones bottom,” said the Nun to the clerk.
“Try these.”
What a quandary.
Hilarious!
“Spell economy,” said the host.
The Nun froze. What a quandary. Mind blank. What a barbaric embarrassment.
The poor love.
Brilliant!
Fear
I fear to tread
Where angels bled
Where demons roamed
Where Satan rehomed.
I fear to speak
And hear my words
As others hear;
Do they hear the fear?
I fear to look
To see the book
With my name upon
When I have gone.
I fear to ask
And avoid the task
And shrink like violets in a godlike sun
For it is indeed a fearsome one.
I fear to hear
The words you hear
And when your words are near
I disappear
Wow! Very powerful. I really like this. Thank you 🙂