~Chickensoupcheese

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About Me Member Wannabe Poet ChickensoupcheeseMale/United Kingdom

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Chaplin At Christmas

Dec 20, 2008, 6:11:12 PM by ~Chickensoupcheese
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Traditional Fixed Forms

I can only imagine the looks on
Their faces when they saw what Santa brought:
The ex-ex-pat wrapped up in plastic.

He who could find (as the old bird said)
A grail of laughter in an empty trashcan –
The virtuoso voice of verbal silence –
Was suddenly (slowly) wheeled offstage,
The Western world still waiting for the snow.

He smudged the lines across his western hand
– still danced! – aware that all the world
Deserved to see his show.

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Newest Deviations

Clarissa My darling Clarissa, art thou still at sea?
I pray for thee nightly, yet no word from thee.
Tomorrow’s the day when thou first took my hand
Yet the day has not come when thou comest back to land.

My darling Clarissa, more tears have I wept
Than a mourner in limbo; less nights have I slept
Than a watchman in Hell. I pray that thine
Spirit is safely in Heaven, if somehow
Your body has washed up in brine.

Yet how can I live, my darling Clarissa,
When all seems so sad, so upset, in my heart?
My body cries out that it wants to assist thee,
Alas dear Clarissa, did you have to depart?

My darling Clarissa, no number of wenchesClarissa by ~Chickensoupcheese

Chaplin At Christmas I can only imagine the looks on
Their faces when they saw what Santa brought:
The ex-ex-pat wrapped up in plastic.

He who could find (as the old bird said)
A grail of laughter in an empty trashcan –
The virtuoso voice of verbal silence –
Was suddenly (slowly) wheeled offstage,
The Western world still waiting for the snow.

He smudged the lines across his western hand
– still danced! – aware that all the world
Deserved to see his show.Chaplin At Christmas by ~Chickensoupcheese

The Rusted Van - DRAFT I walked along the road where once there stood
A shop of sorts – a used-car dealership.
I usually would not think to look that way,
But one had caught my eye by the side-street.
A tatty Bedford van, painted garishly –
In green and blue I think, but hard to tell:
The paintwork was all chipped and much discoloured.
I got to thinking how the van, once loved –
The mouldy colour scheme showed that – should be
So tarnished, underloved and obsolete.
I walked a little closer and stretched my eyes
As far back as I could from where I stood –
The vehicle seemed unholy in its state:
To step too close was to condemn mThe Rusted Van - DRAFT by ~Chickensoupcheese

The Pheasant Driving down a country road, we spot a
Pheasant blithely crossing. At least we think
It’s one of them. Dad says it’s not a grouse:
Too big to be a grouse. Dad slows down and
The pheasant crosses. We make our merry way.

Later, coming back this way, we drive past
Pheasant paella, a sticky mess of guts and feathers
Destined to make the Cornwall roadkill cook
A happy man and a hearty supper.
Something tells me someone didn’t slow down.The Pheasant by ~Chickensoupcheese

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Imagination by ~zumbum

Lodge Lane I

With rehearsed practice my hands fit in Her grooves
That seem made for me. Her lips are upon mine now
And my heart and my head and my cock explode
And She is mine again.

I feel a space between my lips and hers and when
I open my eyes and look into hers.
As fast as a train wrecks my short lived hope dies.
And in the eyes of my mistress I'm but another corpse on the road to happiness.

II

I near Lodge Lane and the wind is a cat and I am a mouse,
The freeze grips my body and is gone again as
I am whipped, whipped and coloured red.
When I close my eyes and look at my tormentor,
It is me, with smiling glee, as I crack the whLodge Lane by ~zumbum

Tetris. Can you remember the Tetris jingle,
That awfully misleading tune?

The Siren,
She leads you into that sense of
False security.

Drop the blocks and fill the

Holes.
Don't let your tower grow
Too large, you know it'll get too high.
And topple.

I hope you remember the builder,
That set solid foundations,
In your marsh.
He who struggled and toiled,
In that dire mire,
Struggling to erect your mighty tower.

Of course you've forgotten him,
From his blank stare you can make
Out Your ingratitude.

Can you remember the Tetris jingle my love?
It's coming back to haunt you.Tetris. by ~zumbum

TIME FOR POULTRY by ~NiklasFanger

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Reporting For Duty

Dec 20, 2008, 7:00:37 PM by ~Chickensoupcheese
Journals / Personal

Only me,

I realised I had a fair bit of work that I hadn't put on here, and also that some of the reportedly 'good' stuff that I'd featured on here in retrospect is rather less good than I had initially suspected. Thus I thought it was time to update things just a bit; I've uploaded six poems (one is a draft but I thought it interesting enough to put up for now). I wrote another tonight which I was going to put up but thought I would give it a bit of time to settle.

Other than that I have been ploughing away on the writing side - at the moment it's a bit on and off as the insatiable demon of academia has reared its ugly head and I have been forced to give it lots of sweets. Cracking on with the poetry and I have had a novel in the works since about August; it has been extraordinarily slow progress but the first 'book' (about a third of the novel I would estimate) is nearing completion. It is very silly and great fun to write when I find the time.

That's about it for now!

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