'I'm always looking for the Hows and the Whys and the Whats,' said Muskrat, 'That is why I speak as I do. You've heard of Muskrat's Much-in-Little, of course?'
'No,' said the child. 'What is it?'
- The Mouse and his Child. Russell Hoban.

Go here to find out more.

Thursday, 12 February 2009

One of me Poems


I was cleaning out my filing cabinet today and I came across a poem I wrote.  I could say that it was written when I was nobbut a child, and hence have an excuse for the wobbly meter and shaking rhymes, but I can't.  I wrote it only a few years ago.  But I've decided it's going to be exposed to the world anyway.  So I dusted it down, changed a line or two and  typed it out.

So, Here, Today, for the First Time Ever in Print, Ladies and Gentleman, Boys and Girls, for your Reading Pleasure is:


The Chocolate Cake.

When I was eleven my mum, my dad and my sister Jane

Sailed to England and back again

By day travelled around

castle, museum and mound, 

And at night parked our 'van in a lane.


One day we went on a double-decker bus

To a teashop in Piccadilly Cir-cuss.

(There're no animals there -

It's a roundabout where

You can go to the movies or have lunch like us).


I was sitting giving my biscuit some bites

And watching the people and all of the sights.

A man bought a whole cake,

It was placed on a plate,

- A creamy chocolate monster, feathery light.


I watched as weaving through the shop he went

Around customers, children, a white-haired old gent.

A waitress bustled about

I shouted "Look out!"

But she bumped him.  And the cake began its descent.


Now the waitress was short, perhaps not well-fed

I expect her toes would be half way down her bed.

The man was right above

She'd given him a shove, and

All that cream, all that chocolate, all right on her head!


By K. De Chevalle.




PS.  This truly happened.  I should mention we had been saving for three years for the trip, and in that time I think I had had two single chocolates.  I nearly died of fascinated horrified regret to see them shoveling up and binning the remains of this monstrous rich, chocolate-black glistening cake!

12 comments:

  1. Ooooo chocolate cake..time for a midnight snack!
    One moment on the lips, the next turned into fat.

    Lovely poem, I enjoyed it. Thank you for sharing it. Very cute.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks for sharing. The world needs more paintings and poetry and plays, P-Class dinghies and songs and sonatas and sculptures and so on.

    Congratulations on going back to school.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I think that's great fun :) I don't think the meter being irregular matters at all because it makes it seem the more childlike and playful.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Pam Ayres eat your heart out :)

    Jsut wanted to say thanks for taking the time to visit and comment on my blog :)

    ReplyDelete
  5. Well, and i think you need to do a painting to go along with your lovely poem!
    xx

    ReplyDelete
  6. Hehe... That's lovely poem! Such a tragic tale. It would certainly devastate me to see so much chocolate go to waste.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Now THAT would have made me cry, too! Some things just aren`t allowed to happen. But a very cute poem, well done! Thanks for sharing it with us!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Thank you for your comments everyone. But don't encourage me too much, I have others equally er silly. And that's a threat.

    Thank you for your congratulations Dan.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Eat your heart out Sylvia Plath!

    ReplyDelete
  10. Why, thank you YP. I admit I had to look her up.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Hi - if you didn't know Plath (who I either haven't grown into or have already grown out of) - do you know Dylan Thomas? Please look for some if not!

    ReplyDelete
  12. Not only a poem but each verse is a limerick. Clever. Nicely paced. Move over Pam Ayers!

    I once was part of a political discussion that was conducted entirely in Limericks, which was fun for the week or so before it descended into...well, what it descended into, but haven't tried it since. Don't you find that once you start using a very strict rhyme scheme like a limerick, it gets sort of stuck and after a while everything begins to resolve itself into aabba

    ReplyDelete