In Their Groove

Childhood, Parenting, Random poetry, Sport No Comments »

Hi 😉

From textfixer

I liked thinking of a groovy amphibian! 

It took me back to a friend’s house, where they had a big glass tank for tadpoles on a table outside the backdoor every year.  We would watch the sprouting of legs and the gradual changes, then try not to squash any particularly acrobatic fellows (who’d decided to make a break for freedom on the gravelled path) while we played footie!

It is not the game played in the poem, however…I kind of messed up a bit while writing this,

and had to really scramble to make my deadline, which I can explain better once you’ve read it!


Groovy   Amphibian   Aerial   Blow   Crimson   Boarder   Baseline   Circuitry   Garage

We paused our game

And gathered by the large tank;

Watched the little frogs

Do their groovy amphibian dance.


Her Father was

Half way up a ladder, puffing;

Aerial balanced,

Attempting not to blow it back down.


We turned away,

Left him (crimson) to concentrate.

Skate-boarder hoodies

Acted as our baseline, once more.


Later, the snacks

Were placed out on a scruffy tray;

Us guzzling while

Her father tweaked circuitry things.


The basketball sailed

Narrowly missing the glass,

And, again red-faced,

Her Father growled (the garage beckoning).


Notebook page, in green

Ok, so I wasn’t thinking about the spelling of ‘boarder’ properly, until I went back and started circling the relevant words to make sure that I had included them all.  So I did a quick Google search…

No, a line of flowers and shrubs is spelt differently! Of course it is! Arrrrgh!  What kind of boarder can I fit in, then??  A housemate? Schoolkid? Surfer…?

As you can see in the poem, I picked a skateboarder.  But then I had another problem that slapped me, suddenly.  My fears were confirmed seconds later: there is no ‘baseline’ in football!!!

I frantically (there were just over three minutes left) Googled to see if American football has one: not that I could immediately ascertain.  Hubby was out with the kids, I had no other lifeline.  It would have to be Tennis or Basketball! Skateboard hoodies are not really congruent with Tennis…Basketball it was.

(Thirty four seconds to go, I start to relax…)

ARRRGH! Better change ‘play’ to ‘game’ in the first line, then?!

*Changes word, sweeps eyes over poem again.  Beeper sounds*

Who made up these stupid rules anyway, EH?!

Where would you have followed your ‘groovy amphibian’ to? Stay a while and have a ponder in the comments 😛

[Frog pic is from here.  My friend did not have tree frogs, but this wee guy is so cute!]


Copyright © 2017  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 Penalty

Random poetry, Relationships, Sport No Comments »



How are we all doing this evening?

I am not at all sure of the backstory for

today’s poem.  It’s a woman talking in my head, though.  It would appear she has some issues with her companion…! 

My muse/subconscious wrote it while the kids made so much noise all the way through my 15 minute window (they were having an argument – hubby was mediating) that I couldn’t think!



Print   Meet   Remark   Trial   Justify   Cucumber   Penalty   Audience   Slide 

The pungent print on my fingers

As they meet multiple numbers;

I am looking for a name I’ll maybe use.


I hear you remark, reminiscing of a time

When this writing was not a tiring trial,

But a jaunt I didn’t need to justify.


I look over at your plate and see

The sandwich, cuts of cucumber, and

Suddenly feel rage, as you stare over my shoulder.


The penalty you celebrate seems petty somehow,

And I blank out all the audience around us;

Stand up slowly. 


Voice a-quivering, I want to stop the slither,

But I slide into infinities

Of abusive, half-thought words.


Garbled green

I wrote it in a different line pattern than I have settled on above (see my notebook page), and I have also tweaked the punctuation accordingly. I have left the words as they were written in the 15 minutes, however. 

I actually like this poem, the alliteration appeals. 

Hubby said “I don’t know what it means either, but it’s definitely poetic”  😉

What do you think is going on with the characters?  Answers in a comment, please!





Copyright © 2017  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!

Some Kind Of Dope

Random poetry, Sport No Comments »

Hello, lovely people 😀


I have had to dig out another notebook, as I’ve now used every scrap of my last one!

As I look back over all the posts I’ve managed to put up here over the last month *points to menu section* I realise I’ve earned my tiredness somewhat 😉

Luckily, I have many spiral-bound quarter-to-half-full A4 pads kicking about my bedroom, so production will not be halted…unless I get caught up in reading all the other scrawled things I forgot I’d written, that is (distinct possibility – must…resist…)

Today’s generated words were pretty straight forward, in that I knew what they all meant (always a bonus) and there were quite a few connections going on already.

As I got to work, I ‘saw’ a guy in my head; being interviewed by a BBC journalist about his former school mate, whom had fallen from grace in the sports world:


Bad    Glory   Gymnastic   Passion   Muscle   Dope   Bronze   Area   Gutsy

“…He didn’t look bad to begin with!

That silly rush for glory

In his gymnastic passion

Had him building up the muscle,

Like some crazy person.


I don’t know why he used it;

He was never one to touch our dope

Behind the old school wall…

And all that fake tan!  I ask you:

Who wants to look like some bronze statue?


I don’t even like girls using it.

(But then, I’ve never been one

To see the point in that area of make-up)


I agree he was gutsy for doing that

Expose-all feature in the tabloids –

I mean, maybe he’ll help someone else?

But what a waste, man.

What a bloody waste.”


Oooo ‘new’ notebook 😉

Does the above count as a poem?  I’m not sure.  The syllables don’t seem to follow any pattern, but it tells part of a story.

Would you have written about something completely different?  Which nuance of ‘dope’ sprang into your mind?

To the comments, dear readers…







© 2017  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!