Snail on a wall
Snail on a wall
It’s good you’re all sticky
Or else you might fall

Where are you heading?
Where will you stop?
Going down to the bottom?
Or up to the top?

It’s kind of a mystery
We can’t comprehend
‘Cos you’re halfway to nowhere
Which is a blumming long way for a molluscan gastropoda to go unless he knows there’s an enormous great picnic basket full of mouth watering snail delicacies, or at least a couple of tickets for The Wiggles live…at the end.

Jo Beaufoix April 2009

Anyone who has read me for a while knows I dabble in poetry mostly of the daft kind, so I thought I’d share some with you today just for fun. The only trouble is that sometimes, when you sit down to write something that is time bound to a certain degree it is not always easy to find inspiration. So I had a brain wave…

And if you’re thinking ‘trousers’ you’re wrong, we’re British so she meant of course the bum covering kind.

So without further ado I give you, pants.

A Message for Celebrities about Pants

I love my pants they’re cute and smart
They keep my bottom snug
And if I fall and flash my butt
I don’t feel like a mug

No laughing eyes, embarrassed sighs
or hiding in the bushes.
Yes it’s good to have a covering
to spare my cheeks their blushes.

By Jo Beaufoix

Yeah, I know, it’s a bit pants itself, but I am not feeling that creative vibe too much today.

However, Mr B and Miss E also decided to take the pants challenge. I didn’t ask Miss M as the word ‘pants’ is associated with far too many other words that she is already obsessed with, but here are Mr B and Miss E’s efforts;

Pants

Small pants, slinky pants
Pants as big as your head
It’s a good job that’s not where you wear them…

by Mr B.

Yeah I know, he’s weird.

And this is Miss E’s effort.

Big pants,
Small pants,
Medium sized pants.
Boxers,
Bloomers,
and all that stuff,
Red pants that are purple,
Pants that are green like a turtle.
Pants are pants.
Literally.

Sighhh, I am so proud. Aren’t you glad we did this?
(You don’t have to answer that.)

Oh and I found this fab site where there are the cutest cartoons you can use such as this:

nataliedee.com

and this:

nataliedee.com

Are they not fabulous? And she also does really cute T-Shirts too.

Anyway, as it’s National Poetry day here in the UK, if any of you are inspired to leave me a poetry or pants based comment, or any other kind then please do, they can’t be worse than our attempts.

Her eyes shone with nervous excitement and her head was high, her smile the tightly pursed lips of a child bursting to tell, but wanting desperately for me to discover instead of be told.

I looked down at the white page grasped gently in my hand, already showing the reverence, the respect I felt she hoped for and saw this…

Me: “Erm great E, a picture of a horse’s bottom.”

She grabbed it, turned it over and handed it back giggling.

Miss E: “No Mummy. This side.”

And then I looked and I read, and I understood the excitement and the pride and the smile playing on her lips as she watched my eyes wander back and forth over the page.

I couldn’t capture the image too well so of you’re struggling to read it here it is below.

Snow

Snow is the colour of frosty white falling from a sky of misty grey
Throwing shimmering glitter on us at any time of the day.
Snow is as white as a newborn polar bear at two weeks old,
As cold as the big blue sea or a giant freezer.
As soft as a feather pillow or velvet.
As slippery as melted wax that is not dry.
Snow makes snowmen as cute as a puppy.
Snow is cool, literally.

By Miss E (Aged 8 years and almost 2 months)

I think my heart may have melted.

Also, I wanted to thank you so much for all the comments on my post about my fab niece. My sister-in-law was overwhelmed and asked me to thanks you all. I also had a really nice comment from the author of the gorgeous poem I featured (Build Me a Bridge), Thomas A McKean who said,

“This poem of mine seems to pop up on the blogs every now and again. I never get tired of it. At first it was just one of many hundreds of poems I had written. But over time, as I began to see people’s reactions, it has come to mean much more to me. ”

Along with his comment was a link to his site which I visited and I wanted to share a little of his biography with you…

“Thomas was born on June 18th 1965 and was diagnosed with autism at the end of 7th grade. Placed in a psychiatric facility for 3 years, on leaving he went on to study computer science, received his GED and graduated high school a year early, and later studied Mental Health and Journalism.

In 1992, Thomas was asked to run for office on the national board of directors of the Autism Society of America. He served a total of five years on the board and also traveled extensively throughout the USA and Canada, speaking at conferences and doing private consulting for families and school systems in regards to children with autism.

Thomas has written and published two books. The first, “Soon Will Come the Light“, is biographical in nature and covers a lot of behavior and neuro-sensory information on the topic of autism. This book was released in 1994. It took the national ASA award for literary excellence that year and remains in print all these years later.”

His website is well worth a visit especially if you are seeking information on autism and its many forms.

Lovely AOJ over at the Lurchers wants us to describe in words and/or pictures our favourite walk.

So we had a lovely day planned today. We would visit Mr B’s mum, aka Grandma, and go on the lovely walk over the field to the park, then back home by the river.

But then the rain and the hail and the thunder thwarted our plans, so I decided to tell you about our fab day at Willowtree farm on Saturday which was a beautiful sunny day, but then I though, nahhhh, I’ll use words…

So,

The Walk…

Across the road from Grandma’s house,
About four houses down,
There lies a secret passageway
that leads into the brown
and grass bare field where football’s played
and big kids scrape their knees
And children ride their bikes and boards
and hang from friendly trees.
And when we’ve scaled the climbing frame
And shimmied down the pole
And dizzied round the round about
and clambered through the hole,
We head down to the river side
where vole and duckling mingle
and gather sticks and special stones
and tramp upon the shingle
And feel adrift from harder times
Apart from all our worries
Enamoured of the willow tree
and how the water flurries
at play between it’s trailing bows
as fish glide through the shallows,
then home again to Grandma’s house
to feast upon marshmallows.

Thanks for the inspiration AOJ, hope you managed to get an idea of our favourite walk from that. Now go and check out all the other Fun Monday participants. And have a wonderful day.

We’ve talked to Mr B’s mum today and we’re going in the car and meeting her there.
She was fine about it, thank God, but I had the war paint ready just in case.

Right, running a bit late this week but here is David’s question.

He also asked me to post this little snippet of information for any of you aspiring to take your writing further:

“I recently started a daily post on tips for writers, called ‘Telling Write From Wrong”. I would like this to become a central point for writers of any description, any nationality, any age and any interest, to get honest advice from an experienced writer. They can leave their questions as comments and I will answer them.”

I’ll certainly be picking David’s brains and the posts so far have been really interesting.

Ok, the question…

Hollywood’s knocking at your door, to offer you top billing in a studio blockbuster, alongside any movie star of your choice. Whom do you choose?

My interpretation of this is simple.

Who in Hollywood would I quite like to snog?

Oooo decisions, decisions…

Colin Firth?

David Tennant? (He’s probably been to Hollywood.)

Joaquin Phoenix?

Daniel Craig?

Hugh Jackman ?

Johnny Depp?

How’s a girl to choose??

Then I had an idea.

Dr Who, THE MOVIE.

That way I could start off with David Tennant, and he could regenerate and become Colin Firth in a Darcyesque moment (Colin Firth was an amazing Darcy in a BBC adaptation of Pride & Prejudice that I have watched about 8 million times.)

Then Joaquin Phoenix could be a lean and moody Dr Who and play me some tunes , Daniel Craig could be 007 Dr Who with a Cosmic Screwdriver that can not only save the world but can also light a cigar and play ‘Underneath the Mango Tree’ at the switch of a button.

We could fly forward in time and he could go all animal as wolverine with the lovely Hugh, and then fop it up in a Pirate Adventure with Johnny Depp…

I know what your all going to say,

“But Jo, Dr Who never gets the girl.”

But I’ve got that covered too, because in every movie there has to be a romantic interlude, and that could be me, Jo Beaufoix, the only Time Lady left, who has been hiding in 2007, waiting for her man.

Big Sighhhhh.

Perfect, don’t you think??

I should be a script writer me. Tee hee.

And finally I have a poem for Lori at Fairytales and Margaritas who requested one on sibling rivalry.

I wrote it about brothers, I don’t know why, but Lori has two girls AND two boys so I’m sure this is a big issue in her house. Being one of four myself, also two girls and two boys, I remember the arguments, but we get on brilliantly now and I’m so glad they’re there.

It was harder than I though this one, so I’m not sure what I think.

I might come back to it later.

He ain’t heavy…unless he sit’s on my head

My brother is my ‘bestest’ friend
My buddy and my mate
We shared a womb,
and now a room
And often we debate

It’s my turn on the lego now.
I think you’ll find it’s not
Get off my bed…
Ow, that’s my head…
Mum he called me a snot.

I’m oldest so I get to choose.
I’m youngest so it’s me
D’you want a smack?
I’ll get you back.
Let go, I need to pee.

My brother is my ‘bestest’ friend
My comrade and my bud
But if you gave me 20 pence
I’d sell him if I could.

P.S. Short awards ceremony tomorrow.
Blingety Bling Bling.

I nearly cried.

You see, she always says it back it when we say it to her.

And she says it out of habit when she’s saying bye bye to people,

Miss M: “Bye bye, yuv you.”

But I don’t think she’s ever just said it by herself, in a quiet moment, unprompted.

It’s the best thing in the world.

She’s sitting on my knee.

She finishes her yogurt and snuggles her yogurty chops into my chest and says,

Miss M: “I luff you Mummy.”

Have you melted?

Probably not, I mean, she’s not your kid right?

But I am a soggy watery mess on the floor.

Careful, don’t slip on me.

And she said ‘love’ not ‘yuv’, well kind of.

Big sighhhhhhhhhhhhh.

**********************************************

If that doesn’t melt you then this will….

Either that or you’ll throw up.

Sorry.

I know it was my idea.

I know I asked for this, but, well, it kind of didn’t happen tonight.

But writers are meant to just plod on aren’t they??

Ode to Barbara

Some people have a hound dog
Some people have a cat
Some people have a parrot
or oftentimes a bat

Some people have a lizard
Some people have a mouse
But I’ve a lovely Ostrich
To brighten up the house

She doesn’t steal the fireside
She doesn’t nick our food
But she often bites my butt cheeks
When she’s in a narky mood

I know, I know, it’s from the big old ladies pants school of poetry…

But the lovely Jen challenged me and she’s right, Barbara needs luuuurve.

And hey, who couldn’t love that face?

It is this…

Combined with this…

Miss M: “Sweeties Mummy.”

Me: “Not today babe.”

Miss M: “Sweeties.”

Me: “No M, it’s not a sweetie day today.”

Miss M: “Sweeties peas.” (That’s M speak for please.)

Me: “No M. You can have an apple.”

Miss M: “Peasy peasy mummy.”

Me: “No.”

Miss M: “Pease”

Me: “No.”

Miss M: “Pease sweeties”

Me: “No.”

Miss M: “Sweeties.”

Me: “No.”

Miss M: “Peasy peasy.”

Me: “No.”

Miss M: “Pease sweeties.”

Me: “No.”

Miss M: “Pease.”

Me: “No.”

Miss M: “Pease”

Me: “No.”

Miss M: “Pease”

Me: “No.”

Miss M: “Pease”

Me: “No.”

Miss M: “Pease”

Me: “No.”

Miss M: “My want sweeties Mummy.”

Me: “Well it’s not a sweetie day M. You can have an apple or a banana or some raisins or a yogurt.”

Miss M: “Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrm.”

Me: “Which one babe?”

Miss M: “Errrrrrrrrrrrm.”

Me: “Apple?”

Miss M: “Errrrrrrm.”

Me: “Banana?”

Miss M: “Errrrrm. Sweeties.”

Me: “Arghhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

Who teaches them this?

Who?

The cuteness, the pleading, the eyelashes?

It’s like a strange kind of torture devised to drive parents to madness.

Or worse…

Death by cuteness.

I’ve said it before.

Cuteness should banned.

It is just wrong.

*************************************************

Part 2 Poetry Requests…

“A squirrel keeps leaving monkey nuts all over our garden and it’s driving MWM wild-can you come up with a poem for that?

Akelamalu, I had a go.

Hope you like it…

Nuts
You keep your lawn so lovely
I thought I’d leave a gift
A special little something
To give your heart a lift

I searched ‘tween hill and heather
‘Twixt sheds and water butts
And came across a lovely thing
A bag of monkey nuts

I scattered them and strew them
In quite an arty way
I hope you like the pattern
It took me half the day

There is no need to thank me
You really are too kind
We p’raps should thank the monkey…
Though he didn’t seem to mind

Hee hee. Thanks Akelamalu, that was fun.

Well I enjoyed it anyway.

Other requests/suggestions will be posted soon.

Keep em coming if you have the urge.

Thanks everyone.

Well I’m still up for the challenge.

Last time, Ingenious Rose and Mya challenged me.

And these were the results….

1. Ingenious Rose I have a challenge for your poetry blogging. Here is an opening line for you:

‘Slush, mush, there’s rain outside.’

The rest is up to you.

Hope you are up for it.

Well, I tried…

Slush, mush there’s rain outside
I fell in a puddle and injured my pride
My pants were all sodden
My hair was all wet
I trod on a goldfish
We may need a vet…

Jo Beaufoix 26/06/07

2. Miss Mya
Another cat related ode please! Auto-biographical today, I’m afraid… See what you can do with this,

Oh yuck, there’s a mouse’s giblets

 

Not A -mew-sed…

Oh yuck there’s a mouses giblets
I meant to put them in the fridge
Now they’re going to be all dry and crusty.
Instead of their usual squidge.

And where did I leave all those fish scales?
I had hoped to mosaic my bath
It’s so hard keeping up with the neigbours
When your owner keeps thwarting your path.

 

(JB July 26th 07)

And I wrote this when I challenged Emily at Two Write Hands to write a poem about catnip…

Sometimes my cat nips.
He isn’t really cruel
It’s just he yearns for catnip
Although it makes him drool

 

It makes him go all bendy,
And wriggle on his tum.
Apparently this is because it pleasantly stimulates his pheromonic receptors…
But he just thinks it’s yum.

Below is another poem I wrote about a year ago for a book which Napoleon Fantastic and I are now hoping to find a publisher for.

It’s called ‘Peoms for Punky Pets’.

I thought it might also appeal to Mya as she has the lovely Edwina Scissorhands, and we now have Jen’s Zoe and Chloe added to the mix.

A Cat’s Lament…

Pray think when you name your new kitten
Of what may occur in the yard
For naming your little cat Fluffy
Makes other cats think he’s not hard.

So when he comes in looking tattered
With whiskers all wonky and bent
All ragged and battered with fur that’s all matted
It’s your fault you git, so relent.

Do not call your Siamese Fifi
It’ll give those mean moggies a buzz
And by God if you call your cat Tiddles
Then don’t be surprised if he does

By Petal, a rather large one eyed Tom

(JB December 2006)

So anyway, I wondered if any of you fancied challenging me again??

This has nothing to do with me lacking blog fodder tonight I promise.

It’s more about me having some fun and challenging the old gray matter .

All I want from you is a theme/idea, or a line.

I’ll do the rest…

It may not be good, but hell, it might be fun.

One more thing.

I have no idea why the spacings gone all weird in this post.
It doesn’t look like this when it’s in edit form….

Ah well.

All he asks it that you link to his blog (or to this post) just so he can follow the progress of the discussion.

And this weeks question is:

‘What makes you happy?’

Ok.

Are you ready for the blog equivalent of a large chunk of Wensleydale?

Oooo and you might want some wine to go with the cheese…

…and Jen and Ju this is for you, and any other pregnant people or non-drinkers out there.

OK.

What makes you happy?

You made me want to burst into song with this one David.
No literally.

Are you ready?
Right, for anyone who’s never seen ‘The Sound of Music’, I apologise,

But if you have, this is written to the tune of ‘My Favourite Things‘…

(Maybe I should apologise anyway, hee hee.)
Cough, cough.
Me me me me meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

That’s better.
My Favourite Things

If I’m wearing new shoes and my chins not too spotty,
When M gets the whole of her wee in the potty.
When we walk down the street and Miss E softly sings,
These are a few of my favourite things.

When we’re having cake and the servings aren’t measley.
The fact that on Facebook I can be Ron Weasley.
How Mr B loves me despite extra chins
These are a few of my favourite things

When the slugs blight
And the mud clings
And I’m feeling sad.
I simply remember my favourite things
and then I don’t feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel sooooo bad

(And there’s more)

A good bouncy tune or the book that I’m reading
When Miss E and M come to me when they’re bleeding.
When somebody sends me some new bloggy bling
These are a few of my favourite things.

A gift from a friend or a smile from a stranger
How Miss M is trained and I don’t have to change her.
When the wine is uncorked and we’re feasting like kings
These are a few of my favourite things

When the slugs blite
And the mud clings
And I’m feeling sad.
I simply remember my favourite things
and then I don’t feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel sooooo bad

(and once more)

When the slugs blite
And the mud clings
And I’m feeling sad.
I simply remember my favourite things
and then I don’t feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel sooooooooooooooooooo baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad.

Sorry…

You can all come back in the room now.

One more thing (of a none-cheesey nature.)

I can’t come and visit you in blogland, facebook or my new adventure, ‘cre8buzz‘ tonight as Mr B needs the computer to do a work competancy thing and we only have the one pc.

It’s the final step towards a pay rise we hope, so you understand don’t you.

See you tomorrow you lot, you are also a few of my favourite things you know.
I just couldn’t get it in the song.

It was an unusual present.

In actual fact it nearly made me lose my dinner.

I was minding my own business emptying the washing into the tumble dryer.

It was getting on for 10pm and I was sat on the kitchen rug in my PJs doing that final task before bed.

As I joyfully flung Mr B’s last pair of boxers into the dryer I found on my lap a little surprise.

It was all clean and shining and had obviously been Fairy Non-bioed, softened and spun to perfection.

At first I couldn’t quite work out what it was or how it got there.

Then realisation hit and the heaving began.

I jumped up and shouted quietly (as the kids were asleep)

Me: “eughhhw, eughhhw, eughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhw”

So what little treasure had Mr B bestowed on me through the medium of washing??

Are you ready??

A slug.

A shiny, grey, squishy, floppy, no longer oozing, probably salmonella carrying yet also very clean, dead slug.

I hate slugs.

They make me heave at he best of times.

But this one had actually been nestled on my knee. Ok it didn’t actually touch my skin, but it had touched my PJ’s so they would need to be washed asap.

It now lay at my feet, all sweet smelling and pathetic and damp.

So I picked it up and shoved it in the dryer with the rest of the wet things.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I didn’t.

I picked it up in a tissue and pushed it deep into the bin, then ran upstairs to strip and shower away the lergy…or is it lurgy?

I may need to burn my PJs. I haven’t decided yet.

Eughhhhhhhhhhhw. Shudder, shudder.

It’s funny because in my head slugs are quite cute.

I wrote a poem about them for mine and Napoleon Fantastic’s book in progress, ‘Peoms for Punky Pets.’

Life Changing Moments…

For years I’ve felt an outcast
I’ve really been a mug

I thought I was a naked snail
But now know I’m a slug

Yipeee Anyway, on to more lovely and less gooey, disgusting foul grey things…I’ve been given 4 shiny new awards. I am so thrilled.I have a fab ‘Rockin’Blogger Award from the amazing Little Mummy… and also from my one of my bezzie blog mates, Confessions of a Rotten Correspondent, who is hilarious, blumming hard working and just so honest.

Isn’t it pretty?

And somebody thinks I rock, infact 2 people. How cool is that?

AND I have a schmoozing blogger award from the fabulous and funny Mya at Missing You Already .

Look, it’s in my colours and everything, and my arm looks just like that too…

(Not really)

Schmoozing, as defined by Dictionary.com is the ability “to converse casually, especially in order to gain an advantage or make a social connection.”

I agree with Mya’s comment that this sounds a bit creepy and arse licky, so we’ll just go for the nice friendly conversationalist bit instead.

And the gorgeous, beautiful, splendiferous, blog royalty Rotten Correspondent (not ass licky at all am I), has also awarded myself, Mya and the lovely Jen (we are apparently now RC’s Angels so watch out for the film coming soon), a Creative Blogger Award, and she says lovely things about us too.

I am so excited.

I can’t wait till Ashley helps me to actually get them on to my site. The new template does widgets differently so I’ve sent him a load to see if he can figure it out – bless him. I mean, he only has a newborn baby, a career, his own blog to design as well as the others under his guidance, and a life. He can fit all this in for me can’t he?

(Seriously Ashley, I’m so grateful.)

So, tomorrow, like Rotten Correspondent I will be holding my own blog awards, so make sure you’ve all dusted. You might just need room on your electronic mantlepiece. I will call them ‘the Ozzies’ and some of them may be ostrich shaped.

For now I’m going to have a glass of wine or two and toast all my mates out there in the blogosphere.

And I’ll be watching out for slugs who may want to avenge the sad demise of their very clean friend.

Sorry, but hey, I didn’t invite him in so he shouldn’t really have been there in the first place, so there..