The Poetry Bus: Fasten your seatbelts! Kato has her hands on the wheel and the pedal to the metal!

Bus Pub

This week we’re going to do something a bit different.  It’s going to be fun and fantastic and surprising.
I’ve had this notion in mind for a very long time.  In fact, I wanted to do it the last time I drove TFE’s Magical, Mystical Poetry Bus, but then an image cropped up that I could not ignore.  Actually, the truth is, I knew this prompt would have its demands and I wasn’t on the right track to write my OWN, but THIS time, I’ve got some good  ideas.
Ready to get rolling?
I want you to think of your favourite Pub.  (Mr. Eejit, I know this prompt was tailor-made for you!)  If you don’t favour a particular pub, think of a bar or restaurant even, but a Pub would be ideal.  Now take the elements from the name of the pub, for example  “The Fox and Fiddle” and create characters out of those elements.  Now write a funny and fun poem (preferably with end-rhymes) that tells a good story.
Think of childhood verse like, “The Owl and The Pussycat”, or even, “Jabberwocky” and write something light and witty and entertaining.
I want us to have fun with this and to end up laughing our socks off!
Are you up for it?  Well, start wracking your brains for the perfect pub-words and get cracking!  (If all else fails, have a shot of something to get those wheels in motion.)
Come back here and tell me when you’re done. Give me your link and I’ll be delighted to post you all, so we can enjoy everyone’s results.
(Is it still Mondays that we strive for? I’ve lost track.)
Vroom! Vroom!
And we’re off!

CHEERS! ( Translations provided by the Alternative Whisky Academy )
Skål!
Sláinte!
Prosit!

Bus Riders:

The Stammering Poet
Bubba’s Place
Bug’s Eye View
Writerquake
120 Socks
Poetry Matters
More About the Song w/ Rachel FoxI Didn’t Know That!
Have Genes Will Travel (Nanu)
Child of a Frosty Morning
Pics and Poems (Dave King)
logB with Chiccoreal
Totalfeckineejit
Various w/ Niamh
Titus the Dog
Enchanted Oak
Revolutionary Revelry w/ Jeanne Iris
Alias Jinksy
Mrs. Trellis and Cad
Stop! This is getting very SILLY w/RC-W
ChezKleinsteMotte

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Monday Poem #3a

Surprised By The Battleground

 

We were comrades when the ship

went down;

Our spirits scattered to the winds

like soaring gulls;

You wore a shocking white suit

and I, a red silk dress

And we danced to marimba

in the midst of horrors.

 

We heard the buzz-buzz of the

giant bee

As it made its line towards the

hardened ground;

Our bodies blasted to the winds

like dirty gulls;

Your white suit, smeared with

coffee-stains;

My red-silk dress blown up

over my head.

 

And we never saw it coming—

Though we held the divination sticks

in our shaking hands.

Kat Mortensen©2010 
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Monday Poem #2 (Not for meat-eaters)

hutched

Photo by Kat

(This is not a GREAT poem, but out of each effort, great or not so, comes a trace of possibility of something better. That’s my philosophy and I’m sticking to it!)

 

Poor Cow: A Love Poem

I could lose myself

in those benign brown eyes—

feel your firm flank

and run my fingers

through the soft hairs

in your hoary ears.

 

I stand at the roadside

and watch your placid  patrol

through the pastures

of your world.

 

I try to comprehend

your sadness

when they take

your children away

and hutch them up—

to turn them into

milk-fed veal.

Oh! The anguish

of the segregation—

the torment

as they tear the babe from

your teats.

 

And oh! The suffering

to come, when you

are sick and old

and fit only for

some low-grade

ground beef

at a burger- joint.

 

My lovely one,

how I weep for you

as they cart you off

in the cold, steel car—

your plaintive

call

as if you know

the time has come.

 

I could lose myself

in your sad, brown eyes,

but I can’t look at you.

 

Kat Mortensen©2010 
Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

One of Our Own

Photo by Peadar O’Donoghue

TFE has informed those of us who ride The Poetry Bus that one of our members has passed away.

We take for granted, I think, everyday, that those with whom we communicate in this cyberworld will be here each day, to make their posts, or comment back and forth or even e-mail or “message” us or friend us on Facebook. The real world only occasionally usurps our guilty online pleasure.

Today, join with me and others who are comrades over at Totalfeckineejit and please follow this link to honour one of our “fallen” who was a lovely and caring individual and a wonderful poet and has recently passed from our presence and from this earth.

TFE’s link to Drama Queen’s post.

Thanks,

Kat

Blame it on the TFE! (Monday Music Poem)

Gypsy Wife

Even before it begins,
I know how it will go–
a smooth merlot
or two,
and you will
chase me up
those stairs again
fall upon the bed again,
to his voice – that voice
and sweet refrain:
“My Gypsy Wife”.

Was I that wild
in your eyes too?
when first we met
and love was new;
you chased me
up the stairs
back then
without the balalaika’s
strain.
Where, where
has she gone?

Pour me
another one.
Let’s see if we
can find her once again–
your gypsy wife.

Kat Mortensen©2009

 Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

(Leonard Cohen: The Gypsy’s Wife)