Thursday, November 03, 2016

Day 3: Rectum Kent (Recruitment) #NaPoRhyMo #NaPoWriMo #Poemvember #NovRhymber #NaNoWriMo2016

Day 3 of writing a poem everyday in November, because I don't have time to write a novel. Not with the small human to look after.

Today I received a reply from a recruitment agency that I messaged several days ago pointing out their registration form was littered with illegal questions. Their response was simply "You don't have to answer any questions you're not comfortable about," completely missing the point of the questions being illegal in the first place.

So this is their prize (that and probably reporting them if I find time/remember):


Rectum Kent*

Yes, I know
I don't need to answer
The questions you have posed.

But not only
Were they questions
You do not need to know.

The point is,
Which you have failed
To acknowledge,

My email
Was to point out
That you asking which

I subscribe to
In the middle of your form,

The state of
My marital affairs
(Hence, do I adhere to the norm?),

Or whether
I have children
(And how long they've existed?!);

All of these,
If you care to search,
Are clearly listed,

As illegal
To ask me,
On a government website.

So perhaps,
My suggestion would be,
That you hop on you bike?

And I'll not
Answer any questions at all,
If you'd like?

*This was supposed to be called "Recruitment", but my phone suggested "Rectum Kent" instead. It seems weirdly appropriate, given the first word is where they can stick their form, and the second is a place where I'm not looking for work, which tallies with most of the jobs that recruiters keep emailing me about.

Day 2: Carp Of The Ocean #NaPoRhyMo #NaPoWriMo #Poemvember #NaNoWriMo2016

I'm trying to write a poem each day in November instead of NaNoWriMo. And trying to come up with a new hashtag for it every time. This was Day 2, based on this result from Rory's Story Cubes:

The Carp Of The Ocean

"Nah, it's legit,"
Said the fish
Of the jewel
In his fist.

"I've got the papers
That prove it,
In that satchel,
By Cupid.

"I was there and I saw it
When the old lady dropped it,
I was straight into the water
The moment I clocked it.

"I swam to the bottom
And fetched back the stone,
And I think you're just right
To give it a home."

One customer looked annoyed.
The other looked nervous.
The first said, "If you can prove it
Then get on and serve us.

"I don't want to hear
Your shaggy dog tale,
Show me it's real
And you got you a sale."

Said the fish, "There's nothing
That I would like more,
But I promised a gent
That I'd meet him at four.

"See, he's also interested
In buying the diamond.
Nice chap, owns his
Own private island.

"But it can be yours,
If you pay me quick,
This fictional jewel
From a famous ship."

"No thanks," said the customer.

"Alright, suit yourself," said the fish. "Timewaster," he added, under his breath.


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Wednesday, November 02, 2016

Day 1: Stay At Home Dad #NaNoWriMo2016 #NaPoWriMo #NaPoRhymo

Looking after an eight month old at home doesn't give me much time to write 50,000 words in a month, so I've decided that instead of trying to take part in NaNoWriMo this year, I'm going to try to write poetry every day. NaPoWriMo. Or, as I like to call it, NaPoRhymo.

I nearly didn't manage to do it on Day 1, I ended up writing this at 11.30pm:

Stay At Home Dad

There's sick all down my jumper,
And there's poo upon my shoe.
I've got jeans ingrained with corn snacks
And I'm awake each night at two.

Although it's a delight each time
My daughter does something that's new,
I have to peer around the corner
When I'm sat upon the loo.

So forgive me if the meter
Of this poem is askew,
I'm a little out of practice,
Something something something, Sue(?)


As a bonus, here's the poem I wrote on Day 0 (31st October):

An Ode To Iris (Nothing Much Rhymes With Iris)

We named our daughter Iris
Before I tried to write this
About what she, a delight, is.

She doesn't know how dangerous fire is.
I hope she doesn't get tonsillitis.
In olden times this would have been written on papyrus.

Yes, I'm aware of how this dire is.

Monday, March 28, 2016

Poem: Will You Hold My Hand In The Zombie Apocalypse?

Photo by Michael O'Sullivan Photography
I wrote this to read out at my wedding just 4 days before the big day, according to the date in my notebook.  My wife rather likes zombies.  I think my introduction was something along the lines of, "Now, I'm not normally one for writing sentimental love poetry.  So I haven't.  I wrote this instead."

So today is our first wedding anniversary.  Which is paper.  And I read this off a bit of paper.  Which is fitting.  (Happy anniversary, darling.)


Will you hold my hand in the zombie apocalypse?
I mean, I know that you said
You'd like to kill the undead
With a double-headed axe
But perhaps I could ask
You to consider a more practical weapon instead?

Will you hold my hand in the zombie apocalypse?
I mean, I couldn't be sure
That the house is secure
From violence and theft
If I only use my left
Hand to hammer some boards
To the windows and doors
But maybe if the electricity still runs
I could use a nail gun.

Fingers crossed, eh?

Will you hold my hand in the zombie apocalypse?
Then, if I die,
If I cease to exist,
You could cut it off at the wrist
And using my end
As a means to fend
Off would-be attackers,
You could ensure my demise
Would help halt the rise
Of the zombie hordes...

And of course,
If you were to modify it with spikes
So that in the midst of a fight
You could make a cheap pun about FINGER NAILS...
Those are the sorts of little details
That would make me really very happy.

I mean, if we were to hold hands in the zombie apocalypse,
I just think we'd look really really cool.


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Monday, February 15, 2016

Very Short (Unfinished) Mondays: The Disappointing Adventure

Another unfinished one, I think I wrote it last June.  I'd quite like to come back and finish it I think...


The Disappointing Adventure

"Here you go," said The Leader Of The Islanders, heaving out The Large Chest Of Unimaginable Treasures.

"Oh," said the Captain Of The Pirates.  "But we only just landed.  Couldn't you just hide it from us for a bit?"

"We could," said the The Leader Of The Islanders, "but isn't this what you wanted?"

"Well, yes..." said The Captain Of The Pirates, trying to be as delicate as possible, "but we normally do a spot of plundering first."

"Well, now you don't need to," said The Leader Of The Islanders.  "Here you go," he added, nudging The Large Chest Of Unimaginable Treasures slightly closer to the pirates.

"But I was looking forward to the plundering!" said the shortest pirate, who was stood at the back where the islanders couldn't see him.

"And we were looking forward to giving you The Large Chest Of Unimaginable Treasures," said The Leader Of The Islanders.  "They don't call this The Island Of Hospitality for nothing, you know.  I'm Alan, by the way."  He offered his hand for shaking.

"I've never heard anyone call it The Island Of Hospitality," said The Captain Of The Pirates.  "I thought it was called The Island Of Bone Crushing Cannibals."

"Ah, that's because we only changed its name last week at a public meeting," said Alan, beaming.  "Two thirds majority and everything."

Some of the pirates groaned.

"Oh," said The Captain Of The Pirates.  "That is a shame.  George here was rather keen on being captured and then pulling off a daring last minute escape just before he could be cooked and eaten.  Apparently it's his favourite thing in the whole world."

He gestured towards a heavily scarred and disappointed looking pirate who was clutching a large tine with 'DEFINITELY NOT A KIT FOR CARRYING OUT DARING ESCAPES' printed on it.


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