Tuesday, May 01, 2012

A strange sonnet of sorts

Written to use prompts : 
Waterlogged-It's always fish on Friday-Hullabaloo-Lime-green pencil-Overflowing dustbin-Orange
- the sense is not focused.

Messy morass

Although the fields were waterlogged we tried
to make our way across the soggy wastes
which stretched ahead according to our tastes.
It’s always fish on Friday, batter-fried,

she mouthed, unheard amid the hullabaloo
waving her lime green pencil like a wand
conducting this unruly lawless band
of ne’er-do-wells whose dads are on the brew.

Like them these kids could very soon land in
that no man’s land of aimless thoughtless souls
the feckless, oft-blamed, idle scrounging crew
with other dust and dross, and life’s own goals
the orange jump-suit clad, despised and blue
who shovel shit, which overflows life’s bin.

A metrical hiccup/possibly permitted variation, I tell myself, in line 5.

A cat-shaped hole

We don’t need to close the door to keep the cats out
or feed them as we make our morning tea.
We won’t have to stop them leaping on the table,
Or on friends who really don’t like cats a lot.

No more jokes about cats with rolling pins
waiting at the door when we get home late –
no more silliness about doing the cleaning,
spoken to a cat with a mob cap and apron.

No making sure they're always fed and watered
No need to tell the neighbours we’re away.

The sparrows and the blackbirds’ll be safer
Though it’s been a while since any danger lurked.

The blankets are all washed and stored – or binned,
the dishes will turn into plant pot saucers
and we’ll give spare tins of food away.

Sure, life will be easier and simpler
But these creatures leave a biggish cat-shaped hole.


Anonymous said...

Aww- only just spotted this one. Life without a pusscat takes a while to get used to! Xxxxesther

aliqot said...

Yes, it seems quite strange arriving home and not being greeted by the beast.