Friday, 12 October 2007

On Wheelbarrows Divested of Wheels, Planted with Petunias and Used as Garden Ornaments

Are they real or are they false?
Are they wheely wheely wheel?
Are such barrows wheelbarrows?
Are they wheely to their marrows?
Do they have a wheely pulse?
If you poke them will they squeal?
If you cock your leg and wee
On them a stream of nectar golden
Will these barrows up and waltz
In circles wheely round the garden?
Or are they just on bended knee
Abject things that have NO WHEELS,
Deprived of wheel liberty
While seedlings do not ask their pardon,
But sprout and swarm and bloom in shoals,
Like arrows through the barrows' souls?


Martin Kingsley said...

Now your life (not to mention portfolio) is complete.

alexis said...

Alas no, MK. I still have to write "Ten Lovesongs by Baristas with Law Degrees", "Why I Am Not a Chickpea", and "Ode to the Dachshunds that Once Were".

TimT said...

An excellent post, which transcends mere wheelism and goes into the territory of hyper-wheelism, nay, surr-wheelism.

It's wheely good. Keep it wheel, Lexicon.

alexis said...

If you're sick of people pushing barrows, you've come to the right place.

TimT said...

'Ode to the Dachsunds that once Were'- I think I know a poem like that:

Daschunds much missed, why do you bark to me, bark to me,
Woofing that now you are not as you were;
Recalling the quarry that you used to mark for me,
As at first, when the day was fair...

alexis said...

Thanks, Tim. C'est magnifique.

While I've got your attention, allow me to observe that the rhyme scheme of the wheelbarrow pome is thus:


If anyone knows the technical term for this, they can have a chocolate frog. On the house.

TimT said...

Poem courtesy of that well known Victorian poet, Thomas Hardly.

I've no idea what the rhyme scheme is, so I give up. I must admit I would rather a chocolate house on the frog, but choosers can't be beggars, I guess.

Martin Kingsley said...

After a good hour of reading, I feel relatively sure (as sure as an undergrad [who does not know art but knows what he likes] can be, at least) in coming to the conclusion you have confounded the rules entirely. Nobody seems to have anything even remotely useful to say on the progression of rhyme schemes (nothing applicable, anyway). I did, however, find a neat website:

Do I get, say, the ghost of a chocolate frog for being ever so good and smart? Metaphysical? Quantum? Something?!

prude said...

I think it is being called the Alexis Alphabet Cab Indeadeaoso Rhyming Scheme.

I is liking chocolate frogs please.

Mitzi G Burger said...

I am not a chickpea
Though I sometimes wish to be
Pounded into a paste for pakora
A joy I anticipate, mixed with horror
But the massage from the mortar's pestle
is the angel descendent whom I wish to wrestle:
will I lose myself in the paste,
amid onion, garlic and tumeric gold?
Or will I gain a name anew,
and a nation, as did Jacob of old?
I may not be a chickpea
pounded for Jacob's pottage
but stray I from the packora, free,
upping the dose of my emo wattage.

alexis said...

Well done, Mitzi G.

Prude: hm.

Martian: lovely website. I'll consider the chocolate frog, especially if you crank out a worthy pantoum.

Martin Kingsley said...

You're out to make me earn this bloody frog, innit? Alright, alright, here's yer bloody flowery poetical thing. It's not very good, like, and it don't hold a candle to that trendy chickpea pakora commie-greenie-pinko business a couple of posts up, but I believe it meets the requirements of a pantoum.

Chocolate frogs for verses poetic
That was the deal we made
As exchange programs go I've seen worse
Maybe I'm just easily impressed

That was the deal we made.
These pantoum things are pretty neat!
Maybe I'm just easily impressed
I like this one by Carolyn Kizer

'These pantoum things are pretty neat'.
Even if there isn't a beagle anywhere.
I like this one by Carolyn Kizer...
I've mentioned pups and published authors, I think I'm covered.

Even if there isn't a beagle anywhere.
As exchange programs go I've seen worse
I've mentioned pups and published authors, I think I'm covered.
Chocolate frogs for verses poetic.


Pay up! I am triumphant, if apparently reveling in the horror of this free-verse monstrosity I have unleashed upon the world. *winces as he hits the Publish button*

Martin Kingsley said...

OK, it's official, the shame has set in.

Mitzi G Burger said...

My Heart is Not a Chickpea
- a la Tom Robbins' "My Heart is Not a Poodle"

Lord knows I ain't never been trendy,
Not like those other gals.
Just like to shoot the evenin breeze
on the front porch with my pals.

But my sister is keen on this bloke
all the way from Bangladesh,
And my CWA cook-book
Gave me a pavlova-stained, rejected look,
The day I made pakoras, fresh ...

Oh, my heart is not a chickpea,
it's a red lentil loneliness
No no, my heart just aint
like a pure, pure saint -
it's a fried, pulsating mess...

Now my sister's got a bun in the oven,
she wears a ring from her better hafff,
and i'm a-gittin my lovin
from the cab su-av in that caraffe

But I certainly ain't unhappy
moochin with my wine and my pals,
and one day, some day,
another end-of-Ramadan day,
I might work out if I like guys or gals ... (back to CH)

alexis said...

Martin, you get a chocolate frog. You really do. I'll try to find a source of vegan soy-free chocolate frogs. Mitzi G., you get a chocolate guitar. That was excellent. My wheelbarrow number's feeling more than a little upstaged.

Maria said...

There's a reason I don't blog here much, and a reason why you shouldn't, prude.

sexy said...