Hot potato

Random poetry 1 Comment »

Hello, lovely people out there ūüėČ

I had to google ‚Äėyam‚Äô.¬†

from randomlists.com

I do not live in America, and I think I’ve mentioned before that I am no cook! I was a bit stumped about how to incorporate all the other words after I got it straight in my head what yams were, but a few characters materialised to help me out with that.

Handy, huh?

I can’t decide which gender the older two are, they don’t seem to be fixed in that way in my head. They are more voices that are obviously elderly, but turned down. 

I can tell you that they are sitting in a room painted a cheery pale yellow, full of dusty books and sunbeams. The chairs that hold the characters are high backed and have a pattern etched into their rough fabric.

There is a plate of custard creams and gingernut-type biscuits on the table between them.  The tea has been brought by somebody, so maybe they have a home help or maid?

 I’m not sure why the speaker is there, but she’s female, late twenties, and visits quite a bit.  She might be related??  (She’s wearing a long pencil skirt that she hates, anyway).

My subconscious doesn‚Äôt always let me have a logical sequence of details in 15 minutes ūüėČ

 

Yam   Impolite   Division   Truthful   Cluttered   Easy   Handsome   Inform   Futuristic

As their mad (favourite) topic

Rumbled forth again

I tried not to come down on

The ‚Äėyam‚Äô or ‚Äėsweet potato‚Äô side

For fear of seeming impolite.

 

It was a needless division

That neither cared about, if truthful,

As they sat in that cluttered room ‚Äď

It was just an easy way

Of passing time.

 

The handsome new window cleaner

Buffed up the panes;

The old acquaintances turned

To inform me that the lad’s musical tastes

To them seemed scandalously futuristic.

 

I wonder what the window cleaner is into?¬† I get the impression that the ‚Äėold acquaintences‚Äô grilled him, so I am inclined to

scribbly green stuff

believe we have two inquiring ladies in those chairs, but I could be wrong! 

I wonder if they invited the guy in or whether they interrogated him through the window?! That could have been a funny conversation if it was double gazing and our (assumed) ladies were hard of hearing…

What are your thoughts?

Have a lovely evening whatever you’re getting up to tonight, and Happy New Year when it comes!!!

 

(c) 2016 Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

 

 

Yawl At Sea

Random poetry 2 Comments »

How do?!

It’s my mum’s birthday today – HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUM ūüėČ

I was amazed when I read the first word of today‚Äôs little lot ‚Äď ‚ÄėSkippy‚Äô is the name of our eldest‚Äôs favourite toy that he‚Äôs had

From Jimpix.co.uk

since he was tiny!! 

So I had to incorporate this somehow…and ended up writing about a bedtime story (which can have anything in it, let’s be honest).

I had to look up ‚Äėtorpid‚Äô and ‚Äėyawl‚Äô, and then got the idea that the latter was like a bigger boat‚Äôs ¬†lifeboat, but have since learned that is not quite the case. But no matter, the poem is what it is ūüėČ

 

 

 

 

 

Skippy   Storm   Torpid   Henry   Change   Successful   Grammar   Dressed   Yawl

 As my eldest held his toy dog Skippy

In bed, the way he’d done since babyhood;

I told of a storm that raged

Upon a fated day at sea.

 

Although raised from their beds

The sailors had no time for torpid

Like in a Henry Moore carving

The wind had wrought short shrift.

 

My eldest’s eyes grew large

As I spun my tale;

Finally making the battling sailors‚Äô luck change –

Become successful against the elements.

 

The excitement having shocked

The grammar from his lips,

My eldest lisped:

‚ÄúI want those mans in a boat with me!‚ÄĚ

 

As he dressed in his PJs,

He continued to expound upon

The men and their bravery ‚Äď

To stay and not escape in their yawl

Seemed thrilling madness to him.

 

Purple, purple, evvverywhere…

I am not sure why our boy was in his bed before he changed into his PJs in the poem, but pffft!¬† (When I read it to my mum and made that point, she said ‚Äúsometimes kids do strange things‚ÄĚ, and that is very true).

I briefly thought of making one of the crew members have a nickname of ‚Äėtorpid Henry‚Äô but that didn‚Äôt seem to sit well with how a sailor would speak.¬† I quickly googled whether Henry the Eighth had been in a storm, and the carving popped up.¬† Good thing ‚ÄėHenry‚Äô was a popular name!

Later in the day, I looked up ‚Äėyawl‚Äô again and found this – if only I had that information before, the poem might have had a different story!

What scene did you think of when you read the words for the first time?¬† Let me know in the comments ūüôā

Copyright 2016 Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

 

Of Toddler-In-Tent

Random poetry No Comments »

Hiya! ūüėČ

Hubby was talking about shares and Warren Buffett today, so when ‚Äėasset‚Äô and ‚Äėcorrection‚Äô came up it raised a smile!¬† I also grinned at ‚Äėsupply‚Äô because I had just come off a natural term

from randomwordgenerator.com

breastfeeding page on Facebook…¬†

The internet is monitoring my day…!

For the third time in a row, my poem features kids.  Not quite my kids, but pretty similar to the crazy three-year-old-and-new-baby gig we did in 2013. ( I miss those days, but I also like getting a bit more sleep! Toilet training has advanced since then, too.)

 

Asset   Correction   Tent   Wear out   Supply   Bed   Bounce   Star   Suspect

As I closed down the screen

Affirming the stellar performance

Of our latest asset;

I made the slightest correction

To our baby‚Äôs head ‚Äď

And woke him up.

 

From somewhere inside his tent

(Made of flowery bedsheets

And pegs I never use)

Our eldest squawked as well.

Why do toddlers refuse to wear out

Faster than parents’ supply of patience?!

 

He leapt onto my bed

And the poor baby

Proceeded to bounce closer

To full alert mode.

(Though he was a star and settled

On a handy boob mere seconds later).

 

That’s when I realised:

The toddler’s pull-ups

Smelt a bit suspect…

 

There is perhaps a bit of work to be done here on clarifying the he in a couple of lines, but I think one can probably figure it out ok.¬† I needed more time to go back and think of something else to work ‚Äėstar‚Äô in, too. But hey-ho ūüėČ

Notebook page

 

Would you have been camping properly with these words?

 …pacing the stockmarket floor?

 …investigating a murder…?

 …or something completely different?

 

 

 

 

 

© 2016 Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

The Little Things

Random poetry 1 Comment »

Hi! ūüôā

Today’s selection of words had me nodding from the start, as ‘trap’ and ‘cook’ pretty much sum up how I feel about being asked to rustle up a meal.¬† My hubby is fab and¬†makes the¬†dinner most nights, as he doesn’t end up in a horrid mood trying to juggle the timings!¬† I cook the kids’ simple¬†meals three to four times a week, around school/nursery when hubby is in the office; so I can keep us alive, I’m just not properly wired to¬†handle it every night!

from randomlists.com

I do enjoy baking, and don’t get any complaints about the results of my efforts; but I have to be in that frame of mind where only messy, goopy, learning-and-creativity will do.¬† There is a lot of washing up generated, after all.¬† (The kids have to be involved, too, or it’s not as much fun!).

‘Birthday’ and ‘mess up’ (surely technically a phrase, Mr¬† Word Generator?!) together strike fear into my heart as well, because I’m always afraid the kiddy parties will be a complete flop!!¬† All those expectant eyes resting upon me, and a disappointed son to deal with if¬†I do not meet his exact instructions – too much pressure!

I must say, the boys’¬†friends are usually well-behaved, and that the added drama in the poem is my licence as the author of it ūüėČ

Oh, and we don’t have a dog.

 

Trap   Cook   Ticket   Extend   Birthday   Mess up   Disturbed   Far-flung   Things

That annual trap,

The kitchen: forced to cook

For an ungrateful little one

With his ticket up;

Bottom lip thrust

To extend past your last nerve.

 

His friends will all be the same

At the riotous birthday party:

Dogged in their attempts

To mess up all you‚Äôve worked for ‚Äď

(The actual dog, beyond disturbed,

Cowering in some far-flung niche)

 

Most days it is, indeed,

All about the little things…

 

And don’t they know it!!

Our two both have their birthdays in the spring, eight days apart, and as they are four and seven soon, I am going to have to get a plan in place!¬† The big party I did for our six year old this year was generally seen as a joint party, although very few of our youngest’s friends were there.¬† People turned up with two sets of presents and I felt guilty as I had only advertised it as a six year old’s party!¬†(There were a few sibling sets invited, however)

It can be such a minefield, our eldest still complains because he got puppets instead of a bouncy castle…

How do you feel about kids’ parties?¬† Do you love throwing them or dread them?¬† Discuss ūüėČ

 

Notebook workings

Copyright 2016 Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Hunched

Random poetry 4 Comments »

from jimpix.co.uk

Hi!

I like my poem for today, this could be a snapshot from my life (although I am not as proficient at coding as the speaker claims to be!).  There are always liberal doses of affection and thuggery between brothers.

Have you found that, parents of boys?!

They get so narky with each other, then turn on the charm and love, and are just the sweetest…it can be pretty exhausting!

I grew up with a brother and sister, and we all definitely had our fights (!) but it’s annoyingly fascinating watching it all from the parent side…

 

Downright   Code   Seemly   Hammered   Ignorant   Hugger   Patches   Erectile   Overt

It‚Äôs downright sore ‚Äď

Hunched over my keyboard

Code flying from my fingers ‚Äď

This silly back (and head) of mine!

Aching this way is not seemly.

 

As I hammered the keys

I could hear my children

Battering each other

(Obviously ignorant

Of my creative pains)

 

One little hugger

Gambolled through suddenly

Asking to be kissed

Between his pox patches.

I hoped he’d squeeze me better.

 

Instead, I stumbled through

To play with cars and figures ‚Äď

My spine still nowhere near erectile

My head blurry, but

Charmed by an overt display of toddler love.

 

Notebook page

I would change the repetition of through between the third and fourth¬†verse, but I love how ‘hugger’ and ‘patches’ worked their way in!

Unfortunately our youngest is still finding his spots annoying at times, but he really is being a little trooper and playing away, despite needing a few more consolatory mummy cuddles than usual!

How would you use today’s words?¬† What do they make you think of? Please let me know in the comments!

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2016 Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Picayune…!

Random poetry No Comments »

Hi there!

From random lists

So is everyone else still eating far too much and developing a bit of a worrying over-dependency on chocolate and salt and vinegar crisps?! Good good…

I had never run across the word ‘picayune’ before.¬† I tapped the pronunciation tool a few times to try and get it in my head before I created my poem¬†this evening.¬†¬†Putting it together with¬†‘roomy’, I decided I would take the property angle; firstly plumping for a holiday cottage, then a hotel suite with ‘exotic’ being in there.¬† But ‘dashing’ and ‘craven’ made me turn to consider¬†a George Wickham type setting up some shoddy deal, especially as it is the second day in a row I’ve¬†generated ‘disgusting’…

 

Roomy   Exotic   Dashing    Shy   Picayune   Disgusting   Tame   Warm   Craven

I suppose it was roomy enough,

That exotic patch of nothing

His dashing ways had sold me.

Oh yes, he had not been shy

In peddling me the picayune ruin

With its disgusting ‚Äėd√©cor‚Äô

(And surprisingly tame rodents).

At least the weather was warm that day

And took some of the sting from his craven dealings.

 

Scribbles!

Our youngest has reached the particularly bothersome stage of his Chicken Pox, and was lying on our bed finding it difficult to get to sleep.  It is such a wrench to see him so uncomfortable РI remember it all too well, even 34 years on!

He had his¬†“sk-eeky mouse” in with him for a cuddle¬†and,¬†having been¬†crocheted by Santa, the mouse needed a small operation to fix a loose end before I got to work on my poem.¬† So once I saw today’s ¬†words and started writing, ¬†tame rodents were near the top of my brain!

Have you ever been seduced into buying a property? Let me know in the comments!

 

Copyright 2016 Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

 

 

Like Some Affliction

Mental Health, Random poetry No Comments »

Merry Christmas, one and all!!

From www.textfixer.com

I apologise in advance: my subject matter is not jolly, nor is it palatable to many!¬† With the words I got today, a pretty¬†gloomy poem came out.¬† That’s the way of the¬†crumbly cookie…¬† I do not advocate animal cruelty in real life, of course, it’s all metaphorical!

Today has been spent in a haze of presents and good food.¬† My husband gave me In The Palm Of Your Hand: The Poet’s Portable Workshop¬† by Steve Kowit, too, so I shall have fun looking through that over the coming months to see if there are any poetical¬†challenges I want to share with you all!

Our boys got me a lovely necklace that says ‘Love You Mum’ on it, and a colouring book about motherhood to boot!¬†That will go well with the lovely pack of gel pens my brother-in-law got me *rubs hands together in glee* The best part was when the boys beamed at me and gave me hugs that knocked me into the back of my comfy chair.¬† Boy cuddles are wonderful!!

 

My green scrawl!

For all the jollity of the season, however,¬†there are many who still feel isolated and trapped within themselves.¬† No matter what their social calendar may boast, the date does not mean an end to grappling personal demons.¬†¬†This throws up feelings of guilt and annoyance,¬†¬†as one is meant to be revelling in the get-togethers and looking forward to a fresh new year.¬† It would be all too easy, when faced with these feelings, to convince oneself that there is some sort of defect in one’s character; a¬†huge space where something is missing, or a malignant part of¬†one’s physical¬†make-up somewhere.

This is what sprung to mind when I read ‘cavity’ and ‘conqueror’, followed by ‘disgusting’.¬† I struggled, at first,¬†with how to fit in the ‘deer’…!

 

Cavity  Conqueror   Disgusting   Bone   Ideal   Deer   Love   Drown   Hand

I carry around this cavity,

Hoping one day to be its conqueror

For I find it disgusting;

Like some affliction at bone level.

(Never an ideal state)

 

I long to mount it,

Like a tangible head of deer,

Upon my wall of love.

Say: “I shot that in 2016!

Made it fall into a lake

And drown.

 

Then I decapitated it

With my dominant hand‚Ķ‚ÄĚ

 

As I said, not conventionally Christmassy (think how poor Rudolph would feel, reading that!) but there are parts of it I like.

Can we ever be truly dominant if we feel we have to kill or maim a part of ourselves just to be normal/accepted/loved?

Ok, over to you…

 

Copyright 2016 Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

On A Scenic Bench

Politics, Random poetry No Comments »

This is from randomwordgenerator.com again.

Hi there!

Another (mostly) cheerful poem came together for this lovely Christmas Eve.¬† ‘Park’ and ‘hobby’ were a nice combination!

How are¬†you all feeling now that Santa’s about to make his appearance? There was a flurry of excitement in our house this morning, as we¬†had the maiden outing of the¬†Christmas Eve Box.¬† It went down very well with our boys, and we¬†all participated in a¬†nice¬†cuddly heap¬†on the couch, watching ‘Inside Out’ on DVD (I was sobbing, I didn’t expect to be affected so much by all the emotions, believe it or not!) followed by ‘The Angry Birds Movie’ (!).¬† Our three year old has the dreaded Pox, so he¬†dozed off¬†before the first film started, but our six year old loved all that viewing time with his family.¬† It is something we rarely do in the hubbub of work and attention spans, it is usually one or two episodes of¬†a tried and tested programme,¬†then a¬†request for a game of something completely different from someone or other!¬† Our kids are growing up so fast…

Scribbledyness from my notebook.

 

This poem is not entirely¬†based on real events, but¬†is something I dream about doing on¬†sunny days!¬† I could not resist bringing a bit of politics into the mix after seeing ‘camp’ followed by ‘tycoon’, either.¬† I shall refrain from expanding that argument…though you are welcome to explore it in a poem in the comments!¬† (Just please be respectful of others’ views as I know it can be an emotive topic)

 

Park    Money    Fold    Peasant    Hobby    Camp    Tycoon    Slide    Spend

In a quiet park

I paid my money;

Only a fiver leaving the fold.

I fed the birds the last of my chips

And, like a peasant artist,

I flaunted my hobby

On a scenic bench.

 

Later, I put the pen away,

Took out a newspaper,

(Still enjoying the air)

And read of a squalid refugee camp

Juxtaposed with the ramblings

Of a sandy-haired tycoon.

 

Lots of the children used the slide.

 

It was an easy way

To spend my sunny afternoon.

 

Not having tweaked the above past the creation time allotted, I realise now¬†that I¬†set the poem in¬†a ‘quiet park’ but then remark that ‘lots of children used the slide’.¬† I suppose that it was quiet to start off with, then ‘later’ (first line of second verse) the park filled up?¬† Maybe it was a school day and the kids all piled in after 3pm, as I¬†assert it was a ‘sunny afternoon’?¬† Not sure, but I quite like this poem and it sort of works.

Come, tell me what you think ūüėČ

 

Copyright 2016 Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Lighter

Random poetry No Comments »

Hello!

Today’s selection is from randomwordgenerator.com

I really like the words I was presented with today.¬† As I have been knuckling down to creating this blog and writing the content etc, it seemed fitting that I should get words like ‘screen’ and ‘interface’ and ‘discovery’!¬† It has not been the easiest of learning curves so far, and on the creative front it has definitely been an unearthing mission writing on demand!

But mostly, this selection made me reflect on how much I like being able to feel part of something bigger, just by logging onto the device I have to hand.

The poem made me smile.

 

Penmanship (!)

Screen   Lighter   Even   Interface   Discovery   Belief   Safety   Teach   Tape

 

A glowing screen

Making my mood lighter,

Even uncreasing

My interface wrinkles, for a time.

 

In the discovery

Of other creative minds

My belief in the goodness of life

Is restored.  Instant safety.

 

Eager for the lessons they teach,

Anxious for that sticky tape

On my soul.

 

Do you feel this way about the internet, in the most part?  Although people can use the internet to be cruel to one another, do you see it as a good way of bringing people together or rather a deviation from community, that creates more distance?

I tried to play on the word ‘interface’ here to convey not just the physical and technical wrinkles, but also the uneasiness I sometimes feel in the real world when socialising.¬† Words are an easier medium for me sometimes when I don’t have someone standing looking at me while I think!

As always, I’d love to read your thoughts (and maybe poems) in the comments ūüôā

 

Copyright 2016 Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

 

 

She’s A Bulldozer

Random poetry No Comments »

Again, from textfixer

Hello!

I looked up the definition of ‘subsonic’ for this one, and quickly ascertained that it could relate to silencing¬†bullets. This seemed to work well with ‘guilty’, ‘beaten’, ‘fiendish’ and ‘fatal’.¬† So I started to formulate a little story in my head…

It is not a strict part of the rules I devised¬†when setting myself¬†this random-poem-a-day challenge, nevertheless I like to¬†adhere to the order that the generator presents the words.¬†So ‘bulldozer’ was definitely tricky to fit in, but I put the first two generated¬†words in my opening line, and it seemed to¬†flow ok from there:

My scribbly workings!

 

Bulldozer   Guilty   Subsonic   Balcony   Beaten   Diametric   Chieftain   Fiendish   Fatal

 

Like a bulldozer of the guilty,

She stalked in, accusations flying;

Sneaky subsonic bullets

Taking us out en mass.

 

Like an anguished soul

Teetering on a balcony,

I confessed my sins

And bowed to being beaten.

 

The others took a diametric tack:

Our chieftain leading in protesting his innocence

And saying how fiendish our captor was

For thinking ill of us…

 

That way proved fatal.

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† I noticed, (after¬†I had written it,¬† checked I’d used all my allotted words, the 15 mins were up, I’d wandered off, done some housework things and been distracted a billion times, etc etc) that when one reads it back there are a lot of ‘s/sh’ sounds in there.¬† This seemed funny to me, as I really was not aiming for that in my¬†writing of it; the nugget around the¬†muted bullets must have been working on my subconscious!¬† I also like ‘bowed to being beaten’ as¬†it kind of sounds as though the blows are in the process of being doled out…

I really do think that there is a lot to be¬†said for ‘forcing’ myself to write every day.¬† It’s obviously sinking in that this is my job now!

What story would¬†you have told with those generated words?¬†Please let me know in the comments? See you tomorrow ūüôā

 

 

Copyright 2016 Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!