Rall's Thursday Wordle Weekly Competition 2

Professor B Pear found it difficult to choose a winner because of the very high standard(hmmmpf smirk) of the contestants.The deciding factor was the winning contestant's innovative approach to linguistics by creating a new language called Franglish ( a combination of French and English.)
So congratulations to Doctor FTSE (affectionately known as Footsie) who will now be a contestant in the semi finals which will take place in the 5th week of the competition.
Doctor FTSE spends his spare time searching for and collecting words that are scattered over the moors of northern England.

Here is the wordle for this week:

tone, crespuscular, praise, exquisite, puff, invoke, contralto, allure, mousse, night

So, goodluck everyone and happy wordling!

I Believe

RWP Prompt 115: Write a list of what you believe in.

This horrendous song came to mind immediately.It is one of those songs that you can never forget because it is invasive and sticks to you like a fish hook.
I dedicate this poem to AUSTIN CARPENTER inventor of blu tak.
I do hope this is not one of his favourite songs and that he likes parody.





I Believe

I believe that every drop of rain that falls,a flower grows
Hardly ever in Australia

I believe that somewhere in the darkest night a candle glows
Don't be bloody stupid,not with our fire regulations

I believe that everyone who goes astray,someone will come to show the way
Of course, and just when you're having the best time ever

I believe
fervently in Austin Carpenter inventor of blu tak
I believe
that the four people who wrote this song should apologise

I believe above the storm the smallest prayer will still be heard
Well then how come my neighbour is still performing piano butchery

I believe that someone in the great somewhere hears every word
If that's the case he must be tone deaf

Every time I hear a new born baby cry or touch a leaf or see the sky
I realise how terribly mawkish this all is

Then I know why I believe
this song sounds as if it has been written by a committee

Rall's Thursday Wordle Weekly Competition

This Weeks Wordle.

superlative,wound, prior, solid, bottom, patches, concupiscence, charge, extirpate, pipe.

The challenge is to use all the words in a short verse ( the shorter the better) making some sort of sense and magical poetry. The weekly winners will proceed to a semi final of a 15 wordle. The final between two competitors will be a 25 wordle.The winner of this will receive a prize. A condition of accepting the prize is the winner must take a photograph of himself/herself with the prize which will be displayed on my blog!

So good luck everyone.Only one competitor so far, so she has probably got the camera set up already!

Hades

The challenge of the wordle for me is to use all the words in as short a verse possible. Great fun.
Anyone up for a weekly challenge?You have to use all the words and it must be short.

Hades

No patter of little feet
or birdsong in this grim dungeon
The King's face had the patina
of dark decayed red eggshells
He wore a frosted crown of bent rusty nails
and with a lubricious leer muttered
snatches of foreign verse and fiction
punctuated by intermittent staccato screeches
sounds that resembled a panic stricken frog
being bludgeoned with a hacksaw or footlocker

RWP 114 Wordle
footlocker ,hacksaw, frog ,panic, fiction, muttered ,lubricious, nails, crown, frosted
eggshells,red,decay, patter

A Poem For Valentine's Day

Getting Ready For French Lessons

It's Valentine's Day
I'm getting ready
for my French Lesson
Monsieur says I need
to practise my pronunciation
by rolling my tongue around an icecream
and growling rrrrs like Eartha Kitt
We always start the lesson with the same
tedious old song 'je t'aime moi non plus'
He says that if I dress in the French style
it will accelerate my learning
Sometimes I wonder if black stockings
will really improve my French

Magritte. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

RWP Poem #113
Prompt...out of the comfort zone and into a different style.

I like your humour
Mr Magritte
a bit off colour
that's why it's a hit

Very subtle of course
understood by a few
before the internet
gave up all the clues


If language could be taught
by those of your sort
then every Australian would be trilingual
well at least bilingual in a jerry jingle
with cunning little linguists frolicking abound
umlauting and squawking in high foreign sounds

The youth in other languages
will order their shouts and
learn there is more to a root
than conjugational stout
an ale for an ailing lexicon -ouch!

With luck it will leap frog to the North Shore
to dormitory suburbs crowded with bores
where 'death in the family ' clipboards hang fast
to every letterbox so clean and so smart
Anglican fortress private school shired
Though darkness deepens Lord with me abide.

Blues for Jerry

It always seemed
to be summer
back then

We were all
tanned and blonde
and flitting off
to Bali

There were
so many lunches
afternoon teas
and martinis

Dinner parties
gossip affairs
dinner parties
bankruptcies
scandal

We all had children
and then everything stopped
paths changed overnight

Google told me you died

You are all frozen
in back then time
for me

Like Pompeii
or the Titanic

I remember
you gave me a
coffee table

I remember
you built a
tree house

I remember
you covered
in dust from work

I remember
your red wine
collection

I remember mostly
your aloneness

Feeling uncomfortable
at recognising
a fellow leper

A package forwarded
to the wrong address

I didn't think
I liked you

It turns out
I did

RWP Mini Challenge #5

Blue Blood

This cento is based on poems contained in Lily Brett's 5th Collection of Poetry
In Her Strapless Dresses and Mud In My Tears
RWP Mini Challenge #4

Blue Blood

Their English
wasn't up to scratch

my mother and father
struggled and juggled
through a lexicon jungle

listen to her beautiful English
my mother and father
said to one another

I cried over Der Erlkonig
I was a bright child

I practised my German
I practised so hard
I won the school German prize

God was not at home in our house
my parents had seen through him

I was hardly Jewish
had barely been inside a synagogue

I married an Aryan
to father my children

I used to speak German
it was my muttersprache
I wanted to slash it out of my mouth

I can't get rid of the Nazis
I can't leave them
and they can't leave me

For years I hid everything I ate
except my fat
which I wore like and over sized
ill fitting Yves Saint Laurent ski suit

my mother was strong
she could open
the most stubborn
jar of pickles or herring

since you died
I have wanted to join you
when I get tired

if you look carefully
past my dark lipstick

while others sip cocktails
and exchange pleasantries
I can summon impending doom

Blue Eyeshadow

This cento is based on Lily Brett's 5th collection of poetry
In Her Strapless Dresses and Mud In My Tears
RWP Mini Challenge#3

Blue Eyeshadow

In Carlton
where I grew
up

the streets
were full
of Italians

each Saturday
we went
to the Victoria market

I feel
so old
and big

to be
crying
for my mother

I should
have felt
this

when
she was
alive

Cabarets
were her favourite
places

she was
beautiful
and so seductive

she mascara'd
her eyes
and painted her lips

awash
in a wild scent
she went out

all the men
danced
with her

and
my father
danced

with
the wives
who were left behind

Blue Moon

John Trantner lives in Sydney and is another well known Australian poet.This cento is based on his 10th volume At the Florida containing 54 poems.
RWP Mini Challenge#2..Poets We Love

Blue Moon
Under the holiday moon she looks like a pudgy pup
the highlights on her hair overtaken by shadow
And yet the boys still dive among the foam
talking with kisses as the cranky old poet
chattered under the yellow moon half
listening to the soft punctuation of plums
dropping onto the lawn

I'm nursing a drink at twilight
sherry bottles clink a dull marimba
A blue moon lights up the rorsach test
that seems to be a plot of my muddled life
emerging through the middle class

Did you want peace and quiet
or did you want hot thrills and kissing
If you look behind you on the ground
there's a mirror pond-make a wish
It seems so long ago
that we crossed the moonlit lawn
softly without saying goodbye
and here we are still looking for words

Blue Tattoos

Lily Brett was born in Germany,educated in Australia and has been living in New York for the
past twenty years.This is a purist patchwork cento based on her fifth collection of poetry
Strapless Dresses and Mud in My Tears
As a child I remember seeing blue numbers on arms.I don't see them anymore.

RWP Mini Challenge#1 ..Poets We Love

Blue Tattoos

I was living an ordinary life
sometimes I sweat and my eyes weep
I boil beetroots and slip off their skin
I feel happy I look up and I see Hitler
I stood and twitched from side to side
Sometimes he grabs me in the kitchen
Watch it Fritz
I can bench press eighty pounds
and squat with two hundred

I was fearless when I lived in Carlton
In Melbourne Australia should I say
guten tag guten abend
I tell myself I am a wife a mother and a poet
I didn't mention I was Jewish to my children
I married an Aryan
as blonde an Aryan as I could get

Tattooed blue numbers -children thought they
were phone numbers
I am the daughter
I am the daughter
born after the war

There were fifteen thousand pounds of hair
left behind in Auschwitz
was God taking a holiday on that day
was he in the Carribean
I took teatowels
At least thirty of them

Her face was drained again
A wilted hibiscus

WALLPAPER OVER THE CRACKS

wallpaper in your paintings is edible
striped raspberry yellow and teale blue
dotted with lime paisley motifs

your young naked muse pale pink
in powdery hue is sprawled limp
and languid on a chaise longue highlighted
by a black and white tiled floor scattered
with richly patterned moroccan kilims

positioning her arms with your
crusty old yet nimble fingers
your lips brush her breast ever so slightly
a half empty lalique etched bottle
complicit with two wine glasses looks on

in a blink of an eye I see
turn quickly and head quietly
to the verandah it's not as if
I'm unaware of your mistresses
they are almost always your models

I must close my eyes bury another
humiliation under my heart divert
myself with petit point and the garden
breathe deeply and keep the tears
locked away behind my eyes

after all you are an artistic genius
recognised in your lifetime
and I am deemed fortunate in being your wife
especially as I am considered to be dull
dull as dishwater'd yellow'd wallpaper

I could comfort myself that I'm not married
to Picasso tormentor par excellence of wives
he is so dazzled by your brilliance he claims
your paintings look as if you have swallowed the sun
perhaps it is all the yellow'd wallpaper
you have devoured over the years

Read Write Poem 112 Prompt...Wallpaper