Day 7 and the end of the WP Intro to Poetry challenge. ‘From the simple (butter on toast, a childhood-evoking bubblegum) to the more complex (insert your latest dinner-party triumph — or fiasco), flavor (when will Americans learn to spell correctly) occupies a crucial place in our memories, in our stories, and in our social interactions. Make today’s poem about one flavor and why it matters to you.’

 

In my impending dotage,

I’ve discovered cooking

and a penchant for adventure.

Found a recipe for squid stir-fry

and imagined a song of praise

from my goodly spouse.

 

‘Perfectly cooked squid,

on an eclectic bed of seasonal vegetables,

conjuring the exotic flavours and aromas of Asia’

the menu would have said.

 

The recipe read ‘green curry paste’

but what would they know;

one paste is as good as another, I thought,

(ever the egalitarian).

 

With what I imagined was a chefly flourish

I enhanced my imagined masterpiece

with a large blob of chilli paste,

hurled straight into the Hades of the wok.

 

Instantly, I was alerted to the error of my ways

by a nose like a running tap

and a total shut-down of my lungs

(except for the coughing bit).

 

My wife rushed to my rescue,

either concerned about my paroxysms

or what I might be coughing into the evening meal,

but alas she was swiftly felled by the same symptoms.

 

Every door and window open onto the winter chill,

ceiling fans gyrating dangerously at speeds hitherto unknown

and the Chernobyl wok banished to the outdoors,

we averted asphyxiation.

 

My previously baked sausage rolls

sated what was left of our mustard-gassed appetite.

 

They tasted a lot like humble pie.

We’re up to Day 6 in the WP poetry program and today’s prompt is ‘screens’.

 

Come closer to your screens, children,

And download the tale of Screeny Todd,

The Demon Barber of Silicon Valley.

 

Enticed by his olde worlde striped pole

and his handle-bar moustache,

(it always reminded them of bicycles)

his soon to be erstwhile customers

were on a journey to the ether they so hungrily craved.

 

Once comfortably ensconced

and Google-eyed,

in the thrall of their imaginary Friends and Followers,

out would come Screeny’s cut-throat razor

and the latest victim would drop though a trap-door

to the waiting ministrations of Mrs. Lovett

(no Ms-taking her for a feminist).

 

Her butchering skills on these millennial cadavers

and her thriving trade with the local fast-food joints

(ever on the look-out for cheaper cuts)

was a sight to behold.

 

Ah, the irony;

Screeny Todd’s victims gaining their 15 milliseconds of fame,

(admittedly somewhat re-arranged and cooked to perfection)

in the Instagram posts of food-porn influencers.

 

Now off to bed, children, and sweet dreams.

Oh, and my screen addicted children,

I’m taking you all for haircuts tomorrow.

How cool will that be?

 

WP Intro to Poetry Day 5 – Write a poem about the imperfect nature of someone or something, whether you accept these imperfections or complain about them, try to fix them or celebrate them. Mix it up by exploring a fun poetic form: the limerick, a traditionally humorous, five-line rhymed poem that can be used in a wide variety of interesting ways.

A Hair-raising Story

Cried an actor ‘My hair is demented”

So off to the barber he went-ed

The poor little sod

chose evil Mr. Todd

Thus were Lovett’s ham burgers invented.

 

Lizzie Borden had An Axe To Grind

Lizzie lived with her step-mum and dad.

It made her sad and very, very bad.

She dealt with the problem

By saying ‘Oh, sod them’

and de-gutsed ‘em, cos they made her so mad.

 

Mrs. Bobbit’s Revenge

Their wedded bliss was well-famed

But Little Willie’s oats were untamed

So like any good wife

She took out a knife

And now Little Willie is very well-named.

Day 3 of the WP Intro to Poetry challenge, with the theme of a ‘friend’ and encouragement to give acrostic a try; an (allegedly) fun poetic form where the first letter of every verse combines to create a word or a message. In this case I’ve made it the first letter of every line to share the nickname of the Australian PM. I doubt I’m on his Christmas card list but what’s poetic license if you don’t use it.

S tanding between us and virus disaster and the Chinese

C ometh the Hour, cometh The Man.

O f course, he’s hoping we’ll forget

T hat, during the bushfires,

T oddling off to Hawaii seemed a better idea.

Y es, he’s thrown money around like a born-again sailor

F orging ahead with Jobseeker and JobSaver and

R orts to those who might remember come election time.

O rdinarily he’d be more comfortable in marketing

M essing with our minds to

M ake us buy what we don’t need.

A las, New Zealand tourism learned that

R ats do leave sinking ships.

K inder souls would suggest he’s just a daggy Dad

E nergised by the challenges ahead

T o burn more fossil fuels while

I gnoring renewables because he just can’t dig it.

N othing can shift his belief that

G od is on his happy-clappy side.

Day 2 of WP’s Writing: Into Poetry, with the prompt of ‘a face’ and encouraging alliteration. 

Doggedly defending the indefensible,

bile steadily drips from the bigot’s spigot,

fouling the stream of dreams

of lovers, under the cover

of internet anonymity.

Faceless, baseless, racist,

panting and ranting,

typing and sniping one-handed.

In the starkness of semi-darkness

the blinkered curser’s cursor blinks on.