Fried

Image courtesy of Marijke's Blog

Fried

There’s nothing that can get a rise

from folks like crispy (ummm!) French fries.

That über tuber tater tot?

It’s one fast food we like a lot.

And yes, in Britain, ‘chips’ they’re called.    

No matter, since we’re still enthralled

by shoestrings, crinkles and whatnot.

It’s one fast food we like a lot.

They even made a stamp (above ↑)

to honor fried potato-love.

With burgers, it just hits the spot.

It’s one fast food we like a lot.

There’s nothing that can get a rise…

It’s one fast food we like a lot.  

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Notes:  I found a cool website called Viridian's Postcard Blog whose weekend post was all about food-themed postage stamps.  Although their 'Mr. Linky' was already closed by the time of my 'discovery' of this site (yesterday), I was curious and began searching for a few images of those food-themed postage stamps.  In the end, I found a number of them from a diverse assortment of countries.  A couple of them had some really interesting artwork, but the stamp above was the one that 'fried' or rather, 'fired' my imagination.  

The form, as has been for the last few days, is Kyrielle Sonnet.

UPDATE: Theme Thursday's prompt this week is 'produce.'  Since the über tuber tater tot is (in its original form) a form of produce, I'm gonna be lazy and give 'em this one.  ☼

The Touchy Tribe of Poets

Image courtesy of tBlog

The Touchy Tribe of Poets

"I put up with a great deal to pacify the touchy tribe of poets." ~Horace

So everyone’s a critic, eh?

You write your heart out; then they say,

“Your meter’s off.  The rhyme is slant.”

It’s poetry! I won’t recant.

So then you try to pen free verse.

The touchy ones cry, “Yuck!  It’s worse

than when you wrote in rhyme.”  You rant…

It’s poetry! I won’t recant.

So then you say, “Well, I’ll write prose!”

but when you try to (arrggggh!) compose,

a poem blooms just like a plant.

It’s poetry! I won’t recant. 

So everyone’s a critic, eh?

It’s poetry! I won’t recant.  

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Notes:  Yep - once again, I felt compelled to write a Kyrielle Sonnet.  (And I won't recant either!)  But anyway, in case you were wondering, the inspiration, this time, came from the word prompt of 'tribe' courtesy of Sunday Scribblings.  

Keep it under your hat...a conversation piece

Millinery Mise-en-Scene

“I can wear a hat or take it off, but either way it’s a conversation piece.” ~Hedda Hopper

Your hat’s a conversation piece,

accessory of great caprice,

which tells the world that you’re so fine.

Your hat is, simply put, your shrine.

With flowers, bows and feathers, too,

the hat’s an independence coup

which says, “Here’s where I draw my line.”

Your hat is, simply put, your shrine.

So wear a bonnet or a trilby,

or chapeau, and then you will be

elegant…so chic, you’ll shine.

Your hat is, simply put, your shrine.

Your hat’s a conversation piece…

Your hat is, simply put, your shrine.

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Notes:  The form is (once again, 'cause I liked it so much!) Kyrielle Sonnet.  The inspiration for this poem comes from the above picture (which is a still from a silent film called 'The New York Hat' - from 1912) which was thoughtfully provided for by Sepia Saturday. 

A spectral encounter...and more...

A Spectral Encounter

One wondrous night I caught a view:

bright hues which danced a pas de deux

with sparkles trailing like a snake.

Was this a dream?  Was I awake?

Yes, glitter, neon, flashing lights:

my vision rose to spectral heights.

Hallucination?  A firedrake?*

Was this a dream?  Was I awake?

Like Northern Lights, they eddied, swirled.

A thousand stars; a brave new world.

I thought, “Don’t stop, for heaven’s sake!”

Was this a dream?  Was I awake?

A wondrous sight I once did view…

Was that a dream?  Was I awake?

###

More

“To be or not to be,” he asked.

I think the meaning’s way too vast.

Existence is the simple route.

I think there’s more; there’s more, no doubt.

We all must face decisions, but

it isn’t just the why or what.

Instead, consider: hereabout

I think there’s more; there’s more, no doubt.

So try to find the humor and

remember, life is seldom planned,

and when that pitch comes, don’t ground out.

I think there’s more; there’s more, no doubt.

“To be or not to be,” he asked…

I think there’s more; there’s more, no doubt.

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Notes:  Both poems were written in the form Kyrielle Sonnet.  My first poem was inspired by Theme Thursday's prompt word of 'view' combined with the above picture.  My second poem was created after the prompt word of 'choices', kindly provided for by Poets United Thursday Think Tank. 

* A firedrake, per the One Look Dictionary is "a creature of Teutonic mythology; usually represented as breathing fire and having a reptilian body and sometimes wings."

Sometimes, you just can't let go...

...but on second thought…

I trust you won’t act sullen, dear,

or shed a tear…

I’m not brutal,

but tears are futile.

The thing is, you’ve grown old to me

and so you see,

we must end this

‘though I will miss

the way you always made me feel.

Oh, what a heel!

I can’t forswear

my teddy bear!

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Notes:  The form is called 'Minute Poetry.'  I discovered the form at Shadow Poetry.  My poem was inspired by 3 Word Wednesday's prompt of 'brutal, sullen and trust.'  For more cool forms, check out Poetic Bloomings, where they are featuring, in their 'in form poet' section, a really fun form called Rime Couée.

Normal Socks

Image courtesy of Sodahead

It All Comes Out in the Wash

“Normal is nothing more than a cycle on a washing machine.” ~Whoopi Goldberg

What

constitutes

normal life cycles

are clean but damp (and mismatched)

socks.

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Note:  The poetic form is the Oddquain, which, under the circumstances, is rather fitting I think.  I found the form at Shadow Poetry.  This poem was inspired by the word prompt of 'normal' as posted by Sunday Scribblings.

Bunny Tails

Bunny Tails

A fuzzy critter did intrude

in my backyard to seek some food.

But carrots?  There were none of those.

Poor bunny’s lost, I would suppose.

He hopped and wandered to and fro

in search of veggies, grass…but ‘though

he found some ivy and a rose

poor bunny’s lost, I would suppose.

I felt bad for this bunny who’d

just wanted lunch, which he’d pursued

into my yard, with garden hose.

Poor bunny’s lost, I would suppose.

So I checked out my crisper bin.

I got a cuke and sliced it thin

and set it ‘fore the bunny’s nose.

The bunny ate the food I chose.

(Now bunny’s happy, I suppose.)

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Notes:  The form is Kyrielle.  The picture was a vintage (and apparently unattributable) one which I found on the Internet.  The idea was inspired buy two things:  Sepia Saturday posted a picture of a woman with a very shaggy bunny as their prompt (see below) and also, my daughter kinda likes bunnies.