Perfectly bad limericks

In which an old blogger called Geek…

One of my largest challenges with writing poetry is trying to make them sound good. My natural style is to just write and not review or edit. This means that normally my prose is not perfect and contravenes grammatical norms.

However this is because I live in a world where I beleive it better to have something rather than nothing. Nobody published the greatest novel by not writing a word, if you keep editing  away at something until it is perfect but never release it to the wild it is no better than any random piece of nonsense.

Nature is not perfect, so neither should anything creative be. Some of the most valuable stamps in the world are those that have errors on, so a piece of work that is flawed also has value.
Continue reading “Perfectly bad limericks”

Comfort of a good skin

In which I try to get under my skin.

We all have our own personal identity, the way we wish to be perceived by the world. The way others react to this branding is up to them but we reach have some control over the message.

Just like big advertisers we can sit and build a fantastic campaign as to how we want to present ourselves but as soon as it printed on paper or placed on screen we are at the mercy of others. All you can do is be happy with the original concept.

For people that billboard is our skin, the barrier between inside and out, it is the first impression we give and our first line of defence against those reactions. We wear it every day for both smart and casual events. It should be something we can be comfortable in. Continue reading “Comfort of a good skin”

The joy of giving

In which I have to go an buy presents.

I’m a gift giving Grinch. I don’t find present buying easy. I also don’t find gift receiving that great either. I have no idea what I want so how can I answer when people ask what I want for birthdays or Christmas?

I have decided on many occasions that it is much easier to give me money, and then I can take the stress of present buying off my relatives and buy whatever I want when I want it. For many years my Mum would provide me with her credit card details and I would go and order my gifts from Amazon. In return I would ask “what do you want” when it came round to the reciprocal moment, feeling this was a key part of the social contract of gift-giving I had entered.

Now I have two people in my life who have decided they want a surprise. So as it is The Feliciraptor’s birthday soon I have to decide what we are going to get her…after that it is only one month till Christmas.

Continue reading “The joy of giving”

Haiku in my hand

In which I five, seven, five.

Of all the forms of writing I struggle most with poetry. I can be handed a book onnpoetry and be told “hey this stuff is amazing” and I’d have to take your word for it. I have the same problem with art, I have no concept of good or bad just what I like. And how do I know if my own taste is right?

As I cannot determine the merits of a piece of poetry I find it tricky to write it as well. The only rule I have is that it should rhyme because all the poems I read as a kid did. My poetry preference is rooted in the artistic sensibilities of an eight year old.

So for the next two weeks I am going to follow in the footsteps of Keats, Tennyson and Ayres. I’m going to write poetry, and I cannot promise it will be good. In fact I guarantee it won’t, I have a set of rules to write to and will be following them rather than doing it from the soul or gall bladder (wherever it is prose cones from). To begin…haiku’s.

Continue reading “Haiku in my hand”

The Angry Dwarf: Happy Ending

In which the Angry Dwarf gets a happy ending.

I’m not sure I believe in the idea of a soulmate, but there are certainly people who can change the way you feel. Before Mrs G I was a little bitter towards the idea of ‘love’, so much so that I wrote my Magnus Optimus Prime:

“The Angry Dwarf”.

The Angry Dwarf was written at a time when I was feeling pretty bitter about everything. Events over the last few years have completely changed that mindset around and my thoughts no longer really match the ending. I still like the original ending, but have been asked to rewrite it to make it happier. As the person asked so nicely, and I am unable to say no to a pretty face, here is the shiny unicorns and rainbows ending.
Continue reading “The Angry Dwarf: Happy Ending”

A Valentines Carol – Part 4

In which I am visited by a third spirit.

<—-Read Part 3

The third spirit

 

A crawling feeling woke Scrooge up, and after checking on WebMD decided that it was either ebola, the effects of stress or a potential infestation of spirits.

The sight of the night’s final ghost led to him eliminating stress.

“What do you have to tell me spirit? What sage words can you offer me?”

The spirit did not reply.

“Why do you not talk spirit, do you bear grim news?”

The spirit did not reply.

Scrooge grasped the spectre by the shoulders and shook him “What vision do you have that you cannot bear to speak?”

Slowly the spirit raised his hands towards his face, and took his earphones out.

Continue reading “A Valentines Carol – Part 4”

A Valentines Carol – Part 3

In which I am visited by a second spirit.

<—–Read part 2

The second spirit.

 

“Oi, wake up.”

“Eh, what, who is that?”

Blurrily Scrooge awoke to come face to face with the second spirit.

“I am the ghost of Valentine’s Presents” the spirit proclaimed proudly, “First some ground rules, no puns and we are going to get this chapter done in the style of Twitter.”

valentines_scrooge: Okay

GhostVPresents: @valentines_scrooge Excellent, Valentine’s is about demonstrating your love #truemeaning #valentines

valentines_scrooge: @GhostVPresents but should you do this differently on Feb 14th? #loveisforevery day #valentines Continue reading “A Valentines Carol – Part 3”

A Valentines Carol – Part 2

In which I am visited by the first spirit.

<—–Part 1

The first spirit.

 

With these words echoing still around the house, like a conversation on Skype, Scrooge retired to bed. Immediately he fell asleep to keep the length of this story down.

As he lay in fitful slumber, a noise awoke him.

“Whose there?” Scrooge asked nervously.

“Who’s there” came the reply for, unlike the writer of this story, the first spirit was a stickler for good grammar. “’Tis I, the spirit of Valentine’s past come to show you things about your childhood that are pertinent to the current feelings you have about this time of year”.

As the spirit said this the room grew foggy.

Continue reading “A Valentines Carol – Part 2”

A Valentines Carol – Part 1

In which romance was dead: to begin with.

Romance was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of it’s burial was signed by the clergy, the media, the government, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ‘Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Romance was as dead as the flowers you get from a garage.

Scrooge was a miserly and grumpy sod, his chief dislike of Valentine’s day came from the soppy behaviour of others on this special day. And also the crass obligation people feel to buy stuff for others, his two dislikes were soppiness and obligations; and the constant coverage it seemed to get on the internet. His three dislikes were soppiness, obligation and bloggers; and teddy bears holding hearts.

As he sat one February 13th in his cold and dark house eating his dinner of lamb’s heart and potatoes, an apparition appeared before him. Continue reading “A Valentines Carol – Part 1”

The Canterbury to Whitstable tales : Chapter 1

So here is my first chapter from my NaNoWriMo attempt. A warning, this has been written with no outline, no sense of where I am going with it and no edits. My writing style is just to get words down on paper, or in this case screen, so please bear with it. As I was writing I changed my mind as to where this literary exercise was going.

Any feedback is welcome (although please make it narrative/plot/syntax specific as spelling and grammar are pencilled in for the edits). So here we go…

Chapter 1.
Sex.

Gets your attention, the mere thought of smut and filth acts like honey for a bear. It draws you in, grabs you and takes hold. Your curiosity is piqued and is insatiable. It is exciting, it makes you feel alive.

Feeling alive is not something the 7.43 to Canterbury provides.

Nothing about the Class 375 electric multiple unit train is erotic. Not it’s twenty point four metre length car nor the maximum speed of one hundred miles an hour can set the pulses racing. The Dellner coupling system is not as exciting as the Scharfenburg system and the selective door opening is unlikely to have that effect on any legs.

Indeed, the 7.43 was not as tantalising as a multi-page description of a high-end computer. It was after all a train, and trains are not sexy.

So here is my first chapter from my NaNoWriMo attempt. A warning, this has been written with no outline, no sense of where I am going with it and no edits. My writing style is just to get words down on paper, or in this case screen, so please bear with it. As I was writing I changed my mind as to where this literary exercise was going.

Any feedback is welcome (although please make it narrative/plot/syntax specific as spelling and grammar are pencilled in for the edits). So here we go…

Chapter 1.

Sex.

Gets your attention, the mere thought of smut and filth acts like honey for a bear. It draws you in, grabs you and takes hold. Your curiosity is piqued and is insatiable. It is exciting, it makes you feel alive.

Feeling alive is not something the 7.43 to Canterbury provides.

Nothing about the Class 375 electric multiple unit train is erotic. Not it’s twenty point four metre length car nor the maximum speed of one hundred miles an hour can set the pulses racing. The Dellner coupling system is not as exciting as the Scharfenburg system and the selective door opening is unlikely to have that effect on any legs.

Indeed, the 7.43 was not as tantalising as a multi-page description of a high-end computer. It was after all a train, and trains are not sexy. Continue reading “The Canterbury to Whitstable tales : Chapter 1”