Cadi's Chatroom Chatterings

I'm totes not doing that NaPo thing. But Pen makes me write her poems every night.


April 6
Pen writes her poems late
At high speed she creates
Some pretty lines of verse
And shows them to... inebriates

April 7 - A
So your poem might be bad
But please, now, don’t be sad
I’ll do a little dance
And you’ll see your poem’s rad

April 7 - B
I’m writing Pen a pome
As fast as I can type
I’m writing Pen a pome
Because she gave me a fright!
She saw me rolling into chat
Before I ever did
So I’m writing Pen a pome
‘Cause she sees me when I’m hid!

April 7 - C
I'll keep on writing poems
Although the Pen has stopped.
I'll write them and I'll show'em
Although they ain't too hot.
I'll give Pen all my love, now
Because she got me scribblin'
And some day I will learn how
To write poems that are good without all this trouble with the rhyme and rhythm not really working out.

April 13
No-one said your pomes need be good
So even if you feel they should
Just write some scribbled words that rhyme
And you'll have NaPo done in time!

April 22 - Poetry Workshop Foolery

Tie Me The Bow - An Exercise in Phrase Manipulation
I will not bow or fall
to the knots you tie around me.
I’d go down with this ship,
but it’s unsinkable, you see.

I will knot a bow around me
and tie you to the fall.
You shall go down to the sea
before my ship yields to this squall.

You knot the ties around again,
and sink me with my ship.
I will fall down from the bow,
and into the sea I’ll slip.

I feel like there ought to be a fourth stanza, before the last, but I can't work out what it should be... ><


Zorro Cleans Up - An Exercise in Collaborative Poetry Creation
I was playing sandbox and there were bones,
ghoulish monsters
clanking lazily next to my ears, and grappling at my skull.

When I dove under the bathwater, I saw a sea
where soft blue waves lay concave.
They swept up the sand
and in the space, the sea
echoed the cat’s bones.

I was always ugly but never mean
and if I got in a fight with a bar of soap; I’d lose.
The rubber duck leapt into the laundry,
escaping from my soapy clutches,
and when I took a breath, there was nothing left but foam and airy bubbles.

In that place where my eyes were twinkling masked mirrors,
Zorro always takes the top.
He’ll clean your rubber ducky

Credit to Rydia, PenguinAttack and Lavvie for one quarter of this each. The Poetree game involves word association, writing lines from wordpairs, choosing favourite lines and rearranging them. Is super fun. Come play it with me, all the time. xD

NaPoWriMo: All I Know, I Learnt From Zorro.

Spoiler

April 22 - more!

The Circus and The Sea - An Exercise in Homophony
Shower me in paper towels
and show me all your faults;
I’ll take you to the circus show
to see the somersaults.
The sad clown shows the glad one up,
the show horse does the waltz,
The lion tamer steals the show -
a stunner - by default!

The Circus Team is showing,
and it would be fun to see,
but I guess we could go elsewhere
if you don’t agree with me.
Perhaps we should not show up
and instead go to the sea.
I hear it’s plenty warm this year -
could wear your bikini!

Poetry Workshop session two! With thanks to Rydia for filling the gaps in some of my lines.

April 24 - Icey Said...
Icey's wiped my memory
At least, she thinks she has
I saved a little memory
'Cause I'm sneaky, and all that jazz

April 28 - I was reading through all of LemonyIce's poems.
And then I looked at mine
And I only have nine!
Good job I wasn't... try'n...
And just messing up with rhyme...

April 28 again
Idiomatic Ideas
Let’s get smashed, you said,
so we went to find a hammer
with which to break our glass-spun sobriety.

One pitcher in each hand, we
hobbled back from the bar,
a chill upon our spines.
They literally take the clothes off your back!
I’d heard of full-frontal nudity
but I guess this is the reverse.

When we rolled at last outside,
it was raining cats and dogs,
the poor beasts bouncing off the road
(a cacophony of yelps and yowls
filling the air -
or such air there was not already filled with falling pets).

I saw a little kitten
clamber out of a puddle and limp away
undefeated.
It nosed the bins and things with curiosity
until its footing slipped away.
One paw kicked the bucket
and stillness came.

We stumbled onwards, home,
and tumbled into bed,
but not before we remembered the chickens,
you counting them up, while
I gathered the eggs in this one basket.

Silence is golden,
and as we dropped off the edge of consciousness
gold was all around.

With credit to Charlie II for the inspiration. We talk such rubbish sometimes.

I'm unsure about everything between "When we rolled..." and "...this one basket." - I'd appreciate thoughts if you have any!

April 29
My Minstrel Boy
aka Rolling with Rondeaus
aka 3am Poetry
aka Dammit, Roland Deschain, Stop Being So Cool

My minstrel boy spins gold with words,
Sober, casual, or absurd,
He lines them up, and then they sing
And every syllable takes wing
Each sweeter than a choral bird.

He'll speak, now clearly, now quite slurred,
The tone selected as preferred.
A jester fit for any king,
My minstrel boy.

Laughter, tears and rage he's stirred,
And all emotions he's conferred
On list'ners caught by pipe and string;
I'm certain, more than anything,
'Tis my good fortune to have heard
My minstrel boy.

April 29 - Poetry Games!
Acrostic I Am - with Rydia and AzaleaLexis
Lying here, in the after-dusk,
In the newly woken moonlight,
Grey shadows wave about our heads
Holding back from our campfire bright.
The flame there dances, like a giddy, mad friend,
Spilling out its cosy light.

S.M.I.L.E. - with Rydia
By day and night I work this bakery
The things I cook sure ain’t no fakeries
But rather, tasty, perfect things to eat.
Not many pastry chefs can stand the heat,
But I am right among the flour,
I bake and bake and bake away the hours.
I always leave the kitchen in a mess!
And some might call it chemistry, I guess.
But most importantly, the things I bake
Include the country’s most gigantic cake!

Poetree - with Rydia, Charlie II and Demeter
Red Bull gave me wings - for a while -
at sunrise, before it was warm.

In Heaven all the mice have wings and carry holy cheese,
And race with the dragons
while they slumber and dream of Ascot
(where horses prance with hats on
and we roll down the hill in bodybags).

I’ll eat my horse if the hat doesn’t win!
Gives you wings? Tell that to Icarus!

Not all shades of black are Hufflepuff,
except in the dungeon where Detective Mittens stands
in the shadow of the greatest one that ever lived

Protective mittens fresh from the freezer,
the tower guard rained down hellfire on me -
yellow flames, cooler than you might expect.
and the dragons burned up Ascot.

Fifteen poems! Made it halfway through a NaPo I wasn't even doing.

CAD. YOU ARE AWESOME.

I love your poems<33333

April 29, still
Galactic Pursuit - Spontaneous Poetree
I’ll chase you ‘cross the Milky Way,
eating chocolate and leaping across hills
with a brown shopping bag full of jelly and silk.

What a stylish little kitty you are,
in your nest made of cat fur and Gouda cheese.
My jeans were stolen by a puppy,
when the man made of cheese came down the hallway
chasing a chocolate bar that went running.

But these coats of cheese killed my mopeyness -
until you got in that car to become movie stars.
“This alien should stop chasing me around the Milky Way,
Shouting about the furry feeling of happiness that Gouda can bring!”
That hurt.

So, I’ll chase the cheese down the halls as it plays its guitar,
running down cars and eating all-stars
on my sixteen-year-old moped
(because a teenager on a moped is like hulk in a tutu, innocent but dangerous).

One quarter each of the credit for this to Qaralynn, CelticaNoir and Niebla, and many thanks to them as well, because I dragged them into a spontaneous game of poetree to fill my bored afternoon. <3