What a Contraption!

WRITERS ISLAND
http://writersisland.wordpress.com/2011/02/26/prompt-9-for-2011-improvise/
asks us to consider 'improvisation'.

WHAT A CONTRAPTION!

A 'Heath-Robinson contraption'; a phrase not heard any more;

Yet one that's firmly embedded in my early-childhood lore.

Heath-Robinson was an artist who created crazy scenes,

With improvisation looming large and 'elastic-band' machines.

If anyone did a botched-up job, with safety-pins and such,

Someone was sure to comment 'That's a Heath-Robinson touch!'

Say it to someone modern and they wouldn't have a clue

About the zany pictures that an ancient artist drew.

Things go in and out of fashion, often with the speed of light;

Things that once loomed very large have faded out of sight.

Take the scene below, a cartoon which was valid in the past,

But full of little aspects that were destined not to last.

The converted bath was the comic touch when this little scene was drawn;

'Sexism' wasn't heard of in the days when I was born.

But improvisation still exists, and it can be good or bad,

And not, as with Heath-Robinson, verging on the mad.

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TECHNOLOGICAL BREAKTHROUGH!

In a little country town, in a little dusty room
That called itself 'Museum', just for show,
I found this ancient artifact among the aged junk
And it brought back days of very long ago.
I can see them gathering round when the miracle arrived,
All shiny and so modern and so bright!
I can picture eyes wide open at the new technology;
They'd see Washing Day in quite a different light!
'Mum! It'll do the wringing!' Little Tommy is amazed
At the clever things that grown-up people do!
'It looks a trifle difficult!' That's Mother looking shy
For she's always rather scared when things are new.
'You'll get the hang of it, my dear!' That's father, looking proud,
For the gadget is from Dad to Mum, a gift;
'The children need not help you when you do the weekly wash!
You'll find the sheets are easier to lift!'
Mum tries to turn the handle but it's heavy and it's stiff;
She views her new contraption with dismay.
So now she'll have to manage without any help at all.
She just can't wait until it's Washing Day!
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Beguiled

WRITERS' ISLAND

http://writersisland.wordpress.com/
'beguiling'

BEGUILED

Was it her way of smiling

That made her so beguiling?

Was it those almond eyes,

Filled with such bright surprise?

Was it the shape of face?

Was it the charm and grace?

Half-woman and half-child?

Was that how she beguiled?

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Beguiling? A compliment;

At least that is my intent.

That adjective means charming,

Attractive and disarming.

But take the root word 'guile'

And study that awhile!

It means 'crafty', 'artful', 'sly',

And 'Deceiving with a lie''!

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So...... it follows, of course,

That a beautiful woman is false!

Surely a male invention,

That I feel bound to mention.

Sex-appeal is a form of guile;

A man is tricked by a tender smile!

Isn't that just like a man!

Never ready to carry the can.

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Audrey Hepburn, Rest in Peace.

My joy in your 'guile' will never cease.

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BLUE BUTTERFLY

Just a girl I met at the market, with a butterfly on her face,

A big, blue, bounteous butterfly that didn't look out of place.

One expects bright insects to settle on the faces of passers-by,

When there's such a feeling of magic and the sun is in the sky.

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Doubting Destiny

WRITERS' ISLAND
http://writersisland.wordpress.com/
chose the topic of 'Destiny'

DOUBTING DESTINY

I don't believe in Destiny or, as others call it, Fate.

I don't believe in Horoscopes, that label us by date.

I don't believe in Palmistry, lines are of no account,

And the art of Numerology, well, it doesn't really count.

I just believe in Chaos, or 'What will be will be'

For, after all, that's common-sense as far as I can see.

If I go out tomorrow and get knocked down by a car,

That won't be my Destiny, but just the way things are!

The little ant that crawls around, and ends up beneath my foot,

Wasn't destined to be there; he wasn't exactly 'put'.

My shoe and the little ant's wee life haven't shared some great event!

It's simply that the ant was there and 'Poof!' the ant just went!

I see myself as a little ant with just a bit more brain

And when I die I'm pretty sure I wont come back again!

For I don't believe Reincarnation  makes a lot of sense;

When I'm gone I'm gone for good; my life has departed hence.

I think it must be scary to be haunted by ideas

Like Destiny and Palmistry, that have been around for years.

I don't feel like a Puppet, which Believers all must be.

Maybe my disbelieving mind was part of my Destiny!:-)

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GOLDEN GLOW

Gwyneth's Victorian cottage.

A haven on a winter's night.

Butter-yellow washes the walls.

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