Sunday, September 25, 2011

CCLIII - Flash Gordon

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One Minute Writer had a topic "Flash"
I have continued my limerick phase...


Flash Gordon

A habit that most would deplore
Just brings Gordon right back for some more;
He gets his pleasures
By displaying his treasures
To the commuters on the 8:44.

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery
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Thursday, September 22, 2011

CCLII - The Nude and the Elephant

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Red Dirt Girl put up some photos that were in search of a limerick.
How could I not oblige?

The elephant thought the guy cute
As he stood naked in front of the brute.
"But your trunk is so small,
It's of no use at all
For jobs like picking up fruit."


.

A lady who was pubicly cleared
Lamented "It's just as I feared.
The absence of hair
(Despite a cute pair)
Tends only to attract the quite weird.

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery
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Monday, September 19, 2011

CCLI - Streaker

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.Mad Kane has a regular limerick challenge.
She provides the first line, the rest is up to us.
I got overly excited and did three.


A girl who was fast on her feet
Would streak every day down the street
The men were delighted
But the women were united
In calling her far from discrete.

◊◊◊

A girl who was fast on her feet,
Outran all the guys, when on heat.
“As much as I enjoy
A romp with a boy
I don’t want to be out on the street”.

◊◊◊

A girl who was fast on her feet
Was at port to welcome the fleet
This speedy young beauty
Thought it her duty
To discharge any sailor she’d meet.

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery
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Sunday, September 18, 2011

CCL - A Different Day

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One Minute Writer had a topic "Day".


A Different Day

When the days are long and dragging
When you wonder why you’re there;
When the work they have you doing
Leaves you tearful with despair,
When it all seems bloody heartless
It’s time to quit your chair.

When they ask you to perform
Tasks, for you, unfairly borne,
When you lie awake at night
But dread the coming of the morn,
The obscenity’s in the detail
Of this corporate form of porn.

When the night of life is darkest,
And your sleepless heart just aches,
The new day dawns with promise
And forgives us our mistakes,
For, when the sun breaks through the clouds,
Oh, what a day a difference makes.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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Saturday, September 17, 2011

CCXLIX - How can you love an FTE?

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The company I work for does not have employees,
It has FTEs: Full-Time Equivalents.


How can you love an FTE?

How can you love an FTE?
They’re cold and feel no pain.
They’re numbers on a spreadsheet,
An annoying financial drain.

How can you love an FTE?
They make us lots of money, yes,
But we could make a squillion more
If we could pay the bastards less.

How can you love an FTE?
A misplaced socialist ardor;
Money’s there if you sack a few
And worked the others harder.

How can you love an FTE?
A nuisance that encumbers;
Can they really have emotions
When they’re really only numbers?

How can you love an FTE?
It’s not as if they’re real
With wives and lives and puppy dogs
Who love and live and feel.

How can you love an FTE?
You can’t that’s very clear.
They are numbers on a spreadsheet,
So just forget them, that’s a dear.

◊◊◊

Optional last verse.

There’s no way to love an FTE,
That’s how they’ve been designed.
They’re pawns in a grubby chess game,
And to that I’m now resigned.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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And, yes, I have resigned.
...

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

CCXLVIII - Rondo

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Mad Kane has a regular limerick challenge.
She provides the first line, the rest is up to us.


A guy who was covered in sweat
Had made love to a Beethoven quartet.
The allegro was fine,
The pizzicato divine,
But the finale he'd rather forget.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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Sunday, September 11, 2011

CCXLVII - The Bone Filter

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Theme Thursday's theme last Thursday was "Communication".



The Bone Filter

We humans are a most social lot
And words are there to drive us.
They help us rally ‘round our tribe
And let our knowledge out-survive us.

But communication, like all human skills,
Is spread both thin and thick;
Some can paint a dream with words
While others hit you with a brick.

Despite the varied rhetorical skills
We use in verbal clinches,
It’s not really a communication
Until it’s past the last four inches.

But even then survival’s slim,
In the realm beyond the ears;
Communication’s not what you say,
But what the hearer hears.

In the bony recesses of the mind,
All inputs are there inspected,
Through prisms, lens and filters,
To be taken in or off-handedly rejected.

And so our civilization will progress
On what we think we thought we heard;
Sadly, invariably, we will get it wrong,
And, for that, you can take my word.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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Saturday, September 10, 2011

CCXLVI - Rough drop

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Mad Kane has a regular limerick challenge.
She provides the first line, the rest is up to us.
Here is another effort for the previous prompt:


A fellow was trying to dine
But lamented the taste of the wine.
The flavour, he said,
Was of something long dead,
And that death was far from benign.

---
© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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Tuesday, September 06, 2011

CCXLV - First Course Entree.

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Mad Kane has a regular limerick challenge.
She provides the first line, the rest is up to us.
Here is my effort for this week:


A fellow was trying to dine
When his wife proposed they recline.
Being on a winner,
He postponed his dinner,
An arrangement that suited just fine.

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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Sunday, September 04, 2011

CCXLIV - The Hotel

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With another visit to The Harbour City this week, a reflection on the dubious pleasures of hotels.
I much prefer rhyming poetry. This hybrid is the furthest I get away from it
but it seemed to reflect the staccato nature of hotel life, for those on the road.
A tedium not usually seen by dewy-eyed tourists.


The Hotel

Sterile places.
Vacant faces.
Foyer spaces .
Fully devoid of any affection.

Disconnection.
Disinfection.
Introspection.
Sigmund Freud
Could be employed
Full time basis.
Manual erection,
Endless cases.
Cold embraces.
Lack of graces.

Life in bags.
Night-time drags.
Past the panes,
The city races
And life remains.
The sounds of cars,
The hoot of trains,
But not of faces;
Contained but very much alone.
Room service that comes,
By the phone,
Jars
And leaves its traces
Of our needs, unmet
By mini-bars.

Showers you can’t fit in,
Seats you cannot sit in,
Little blocks of soap.
One blanket, polyester.
The air-conditioner’s dead,
A small and lumpy bed.
Sleep’s a forlorn hope.
The TV shows are a rehashing
Of drama, crime and sex molesters.
The bed will cross the floor
If you lean against the wall.
Clock displays are flashing,
If they even work at all

Noisy plumbing
In the night
From neighbours
And the water.
From the calls,
Through the walls,
Someone’s delight
Really might
Be a little shorter.
Or more quiet.

Fitful sleep
With little rest.
Up and dressed
In workplace best
Fed and keen to go.
Last inspection,
Pack the bags,
Check the room,
Take the lift,
Cross the void,
Past the waiting
Anxious eyes.
If you’re wise.
Time to check out
Then to step out
With no adieu.

Into the sun.
Or the rain

Either will do.
And be enjoyed.

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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