Abstract from a paper written by a self-made expert

Or: Let’s stay friends. 

He pronounces on gender, says the construct is wide
He talks of time in the trenches, when the songs were sung
He says he knows the key is what’s on the inside
I anticipate the first blow is about to be swung.

He talks of time in the trenches, when the songs were sung
He expounds on the realities of biology
I anticipate the first blow is about to be swung...
He announces that reproduction is our ideology.

He expounds on the “realities” of biology:
Unless we’re replicating, alive is what we’re not
He announces that reproduction is our ideology
He tells me what’s important: he used to think me hot.

Unless we’ve replicated, alive is what we’re not
He says he knows the key is what’s on the inside
(He tells me what’s important: he used to think me hot)
He pronounces on sex, says the construct is wide.

(On second thoughts: maybe this should just be entitled Entitled.)

Inside Out

So, because I was in the frame of Say Yes to More Things, I am doing #28sonnetslater. Since, up until now, this has been the sum total of my sonnet-writing, I thought I’d better get some practice in, so as not to shame my fellow sonneteers (it's a word now, shh). I asked my partner for a prompt, and got the film we’d just watched…

My mind’s a well-oiled engine, so they say;
There’s no good giving in to wanton ire,
For all the voices clamouring are fey,
Their one true prize to find my life’s desire.

This movie I’ve not seen in four long years
Can always find its way into my heart.
It shows me truth, all hemmed about with fears
That I have given up my rainbow cart.

One cannot live in truth on only joy,
For it’s true madness to be only glad,
And even treasured memories can cloy,
If they’re not leavened by a touch of sad.

And though I may be weeping by the end,
I’ll aim to leave this life my own good friend.

I know it’s flawed, as far as strict form is concerned, and there’s an abominable pun to boot, but it’s a start. Look out for the next one on the proper blog. Unless I get the desire to do more practice (and share it).

(Yes I’m nervous. Shh.)

A Peculiar Commission

A friend messaged me this morning:

“May I be cheeky and ask for your professional poetry skills as I’m drawing a blank. A friend of mine is having trouble with a neighbour who doesn’t seem to realise that people can see into his bathroom and watch him masturbate.

“I’m thinking a limerick posted anonymously through his door might be a friendly way of encouraging him to buy blinds or at least close the curtains!”

And today’s been a right bastard, so I thought: yes, freeware poetry. So here it is in case any of you ever have need of a poem to tell a neighbour you can see him indulging in naked DIY.

Dear neighbour, please picture the scene
As we gaze out through windows pristine:
We’re glad you take time
For yourself – that's no crime –
But you might want to put up a screen. 

It’s good to take time to be tantric
In a world that can be very frantic,
But we just thought we’d mention:
It’s causing some tension
To view your self-pleasuring antics. 

Now please do not take us for prudes
And we really don’t mean to be rude
But we’d rather not view
Everything that you do
When you’re getting yourself in the mood. 

We’re feeling embarrassed as hell;
We didn’t know quite how to tell
You of our complaint
We hope this comes off “quaint”
And we hope this short rhyme finds you well.

Yeah, I know it’s not perfect, and there’s some ineloquent repetition, but hey...