Author: Doug Jacquier

An Ode to the anodyne Ms. O

/ Doug Jacquier / 7 Comments

Chelsea Owens has bought to an end her weekly Terrible Poetry competition because, instead of getting more terrible with each passing week, we started to sound more like people who were actually literate and punny. This is my final entry and tribute.

Bring a ring o’ poeters,

A pocket full of poseurs,

A tissue (of terribility) at issue

And we all fell down.

 

A bunch of us numpties, with almighty gall,

Us proletarian-lumpy had a great fail

All Chelsea’s exhortations to fracture our pens

Ended in the dumpster time and again.

 

But the fighter inside ‘er will eventually out

Back will come her brain and give the spiders

Gout from the sun-dried tomatoes that on her pizza reign,

And, Owen to her zeitgeist, she’ll re-rack us once again.

Letter from Gallipoli

/ Doug Jacquier / 7 Comments

This piece was written in response to Carrot Ranch’s 99 word challenge on the theme of distance dating. Today is Anzac Day in Australia and New Zealand, a tradition that started after 11,000 Australians and New Zealanders were needlessly slaughtered at Gallipoli in Turkey, allegedly to defend the British Empire.

Dear Flo

I’m writing this from the ship that’s taking us to some beach. The brass say it should be a walk in the park and that Johnny Turk will turn tail at the first sign of gunfire.

Every day I think about when we went to the beach with our picnic and the cordial bottle leaked and soaked all through our sandwiches. We laughed all the way home and that was the day I knew I wanted to be with you forever.

I’ll be home soon, so start thinking about our wedding.

Love and kisses

Bert

Ode to an automatic lawnmower

/ Doug Jacquier / 2 Comments

This is my response to the weekly Terrible Poetry contest prompt of ‘a humorous end to a useful object’.

 

Boris, as we called him,
made short work of our lawn in
no time at all for many a year,
his whirling dervishing music to my ear.

But one fateful day
his brain faded away
and chaos reigned on our green parade
as anything but lawn was flayed.

Boris charged and snapped dragons at full pelt,
(all the while how his innards smelt)
and mounted kerbs uncurbed
as he rose to the occasion so recently suburbed.

Just when I thought his madness was expended
and his carnationage had ended,
he climbed the bean poles, snicker-snack,
and gave the peas no chance, alas, alack.

There was nothing for it but the mortal blow
as my axe cleaved poor Boris’s fevered brow
and he shuddered and turned turtle
‘midst the burgeoning lemon myrtle.

Barfing on Dad’s old army pants

/ Doug Jacquier / 5 Comments

This week’s challenge on the world of Terrible Poetry is to parody a popular song on the the theme of Covid-19. I’ve chosen ‘Macarthur Park’ with some reluctance, having been a roadie for Jeff Duff in the distant past and was always thrilled to hear him sing this. Ah, well, anything for art.

 

The bus was never waiting for us, girl

It always left when the driver said

We stayed too late at the dance

It departed and we were depressed

In the closet, hot and stuffy,

Along with Dad’s old army pants.

 

We barfed there in the dark

All the Coke and pizza flowing down.

Then I had to walk home in the rain

Caught a cold, I can’t shake it,

so next week I can’t make it

Cos I’m locked down with the Covid once again.

Oh, no!
Oh, no
No, no
Oh no!!

Bucket heads

/ Doug Jacquier / 8 Comments

This piece was written for the 99 word Carrot Ranch  challenge of ‘shield your face’.

‘We’re going to have to tell him.’

‘What do you mean “we”. It was your idea!’

‘But you went along.’

‘True. You do realise he’s going to go mental?’

‘Oh, I realise alright. Hence these two buckets?’

‘OK, why the buckets?’

‘For protection.’

‘From what?’

‘From what’s going to happen when I tell him.’

‘You’ve lost me.’

‘You’re familiar with the phenomenon that is euphemistically called the waste substance hitting the revolving blades?’

‘The waste … oh, yeah, I get it.’

‘So when I tell him, put the bucket over your head to shield your face.’

The immortal sailor

/ Doug Jacquier / 28 Comments

This 100 word piece was written using the photo prompt below (photo supplied by Jeff Arnold) for Friday Fictioneers

It had taken seven years for him to complete his glass-encased diorama from his wheelchair. Every evening and most days would be spent working with tiny tools and a high-powered magnifying glass, to re-create the seaside village where he was born, lived and died. His home, the boatsheds and every boat were true to that time. The final touch was the rainbow, symbolising both his hopes for the future and the inevitable disappointments in his life as he searched in vain for its end. Years after I inherited it, I noticed him in his blue sailing jacket, the immortal sailor.

Rainbow

War and Pizza Store Menu

/ Doug Jacquier / 3 Comments

My entry into this week’s Carrot Ranch 100 word challenge on the theme of pizza.

PETA special – Contains no animal products but please note that wheat screams when it’s harvested.

Four Seasons – Perfect for the procrustinator

Meet Lovers – Could be anything but comes PDQ

Blonde – Toasted open sandwich (they’ll never know)

Neapolitan – Ice-cream pizza you can spoon

Deep dish – Intellectuals special

Frutti di mare – Italian for pretentious

Viagra – No droop, all satisfaction

Hawaiian – Take-away only, for the benefit of sensitive in-house diners

Carbonara – For that burnt crust taste

Pizza Cake – Easy combination of main and dessert

Aussie – with a dozen eggs, half a pig, beetroot, tomato sauce and attitude

OCD – exactly 17 olives

Cheepskates (with apologies to the immortal Lennie)

/ Doug Jacquier / 20 Comments

This piece was written for this week’s Flash Fiction 100 word challenge, with this photo from Douglas M. MacIlroy as a prompt.

Just because I’m like a bird on a wire (well, actually, sometimes I am, except when there isn’t one, and then I’m wireless and then I get drunk and sing in a midnight choir) doesn’t mean I can tap into the phone system. And people don’t seem to realise you can’t make trunk calls from a tree or even from a branch line. I see they’re into aerial photography and cable TV. Must be loaded. So if they’d open the window I could make some calls. (Don’t worry, they would be cheep.) Just trying, in my way, to be free.

Bird call

Re-leafing myself in public

/ Doug Jacquier / 5 Comments

My entry into this week’s Terrible Poetry contest on the theme of spring or autumn, depending on your hemisphere.

(with apologies to His Bobness)

 

As the calendula ticks (not to be confused with cattle ticks)

over to the March of the sugar plum fairies

I vow to turn over a new leaf.

But I am de-feated

by the myriad discarded oak appendages

carpet-snaking to my door.

There must be some way out of here,

I thought in disbelief.

There’s too much confusion.

I can’t get on relief.

So I sprang forward through

a hole in the daylight-saving curtain

and found, to my re-leaf,

rabbits eating my lettuce seedlings.

The temptation of Rabbi T.

/ Doug Jacquier / 13 Comments

This piece was written for this week’s Flash Fiction 99 word challenge around the theme of a rabbit on the roof.

 

Rabbi Tannenbaum trudged through the snow and knifing winds until he saw the diner. Inside, he was greeted by an older blonde woman.

‘Cold enough for ya?’ she said, her smile frozen but her eyes taking in every detail.

‘Could I get something to eat?’

‘Ain’t had no supplies in 2 weeks. How ‘bout a toasted ham or bacon sandwich.’

‘Anything else?’

‘I just made a pie for my husband, Pastor Schicklgruber. We got lucky. Rabbit fell of the roof last night and broke its neck.’

‘Can I just have coffee?’

‘Kosher can’, she said, her eyes daring him.