Is inspiration failing you this week? Then why not give my latest writing challenge a go?
Option one: Write a limerick with the word TROUBLE in it somewhere
Option two: Write a poem on the theme of FEAR
Option three: Write a twenty-word story using all of the following words: BARBARIC, ECONOMY, NUN, TRIVIA, QUANDARY and LOVE
Last week option one was to write a limerick with the word PARTY featuring in it somewhere. Here are the results –
I could read a whole book of Keith Channing‘s limericks and still want more:
First we must invite Russell Harty
And never forget Moriarty.
Once we have that pair
We’re near halfway there
To the world’s most exceptional party.
When moving into a new city
You must choose a house that is pretty.
A party’s a must
To gain neighbours’ trust
If not, your new life will be… erm… gritty?
When faced with a boss who’s imperious,
Whose attitude is deleterious,
You must remain hearty,
Accept life’s a party
And not something that should be serious.
The parties have made their selection
After round upon round of rejection.
The doves and the hawks
Both accept money talks,
But they’ll still never win the election.
A shrewd speculator invested
In a seat that was safe – uncontested.
The party believed
That it was well conceived,
But it hadn’t been properly tested.
And my weekly challenges aren’t quite the same if Graeme Sandford doesn’t treat us with his own unique limericks:
Party Limerick #1
If I write you a Limerick about a party
And it’s good I will feel such a smarty
But, if it’s not
And the party is grot
Then I may just have to go back to the starty.
Party Limerick #2
A party once held in East Finchley
Was never mentioned in Limericks
I wonder why
Maybe it’s because
East Finchley is not that easy to rhyme.
Party Limerick #3
The cake and the jelly were flowing
The music showed no sign of slowing
But, then, the worst
The big bubble burst
And the politicians denied what they were knowing.
Party Limerick #4a and #4b
Parties come and parties go
Some in the sun some in the snow
By the pool
Act the fool
Jelly and ice cream, cake and co.
That’s not really a Limerick about a party
I was just being clever, trying to be a smarty
But, you know it’s my way
It how I am on my birthday
Oh, no, that is next week, silly tart, me!
Party Limerick #5a and #5b and #5c (parts 1&2) and #5d
I’m on the party line listening to your conversation
The year is nineteen seventy one in this nation
I was calling my girl
Now my head’s in a whirl
As I struggle to comprehend your elation.
You had a cake and some jelly
Watched the black and white telly
Played games
Kissed James
But, not Nigel, because he is smelly.
I’m Nigel and at your party I had some cake
Sang ‘Happy Bugday’ and stepped on a rake
Fell into your pond
And of you, I was fond
But, I think that I made a mistake
By spraying myself with Mum’s perfume
From a bottle I found in her room
Channel no.5 it did say
So I did gleefully spray
The whole of myself – thus my doom.
Is to be thought of as a smell and to annoy
Whose reeking was not greeted with joy
That’s why outside
I was seeking to hide
Until I floated in your pond like a buoy.
Party Limerick #6
There once was a man at this party
Who looked just like the late Russell Harty
I said ‘Are you him’
He said ‘Are you dim?
He’s been dead for some years – but, hey, in his honour let us party!’
It’s my great pleasure to welcome Al Lane for the first time, with an entertaining limerick:
A peculiar man cried “Pinch me!
For it’s Christmas and I’m feeling all Grinchy
I haven’t cracked a smile
In a good long while
But apparently that’s normal for Finchley.”
David Harrison has been away but is back with two laugh out loud limericks:
A lobster in mood hail and hearty
Pulled a mussel at a drinks party
But she said “I am
Engaged to a clam
He’s slimmer than you and more arty.”
At a bash the Labour party
Invited a girl very tarty
Then Jeremy said
“Ask Yvette instead
She’s clever and far less warty.”
Option two was for a poem on the theme of SUMMER. Enjoy this thought-provoking read from Rajiv Chopra:
In the West, they love the summer
In India, it can be a bummer.
They love the sun right after the winter,
But here, it burns us to a small cinder.
This year it is hot – hotter than ever,
Memories of pleasant days have gone forever.
Our world is burning, who is to blame?
God, The Devil, or man – who bears the shame?
We blame El Nino, we blame the sun,
Then we blame Nature for spoiling our fun.
We drain the taps; we think we’re cool.
Then cry when there’s no water to fill the pool.
Our need for goods just grows and grows,
To feed us, the factories, they blow the fumes.
We ask ourselves why – why is summer so hot?
In our web of greed, we are always caught.
“It burns us, it burns us,” cried poor Smeagol
No Elven rope, our deeds burn us all.
But we need our summer, the sun is good,
It feeds us, it nourishes us, and gives us our food.
So, let’s not blame God, nor The Devil himself,
Let’s put blaming fingers back on the shelf.
The animals and plants can hold us to treason
If we continue to spoil, this very special season.
I love this very British poem from Jason Moody:
I’ve waited a while
For you to show
We’ve put up with wind
Rain and some snow
We’ve been rather British
And simply made do
So we ask you again
What time are you due?
My swim trunks are crumpled
Asleep in a drawer
They’re doing nowt
Not what they’re made for
My milk bottle legs
They long for some rays
Sat on soft beaches
For long lazy days
So when are you coming?
This waiting is a bummer
Yesterday you teased
Now, can we please have a summer?
Geoff Le Pard has written one of his stunning poems. Please click on the following link to read it:
https://geofflepard.com/2016/05/10/thoughts-on-the-bomb-poetry-poem/
Option three asked you to write a twenty-word story using all of the following words: BOB, TIRADE, MYTH, NOSE, METTLE and CRESCENDO. Read the hilarious stories sent in:
Rajiv Chopra impressed me with his speed of entry:
The crescendo of cacophony voices broke Bob’s nose. The myth that he could hold his mettle against noise was shattered.
Jason Moody sent in a funny one:
“Argos. Terrible service, it’s no myth,” groaned Bob, nose slightly out of joint.
His mettle tested, his tirade, a crescendo.
David Harrison finishes the challenge with a wonderful story:
Bob was on his mettle when someone suggested his nose was big.
“It’s a myth!” His tirade reached a crescendo.
***
Esther Chilton 
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