Baking Bathos

SATURDAY CENTUS

http://jennymatlock.blogspot.com.au/
gave us the first line


BAKING BATHOS

Cream together butter and sugar

Then add eggs and beat;

The mixture will be thick and creamy

As well as very sweet.

Picture all the people seated

Waiting for a taste;

This will be a great creation

And none will go to waste.

Imagine all the heartfelt praises

To be heaped in your direction!

See it iced and trimmed with roses!

A picture of perfection.

Heat the oven, add ingredients,

Beat and stir some more,

Then trip over crossing the kitchen

And spill it on the floor!
*
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IN THE FLESH!

What makes you grin in the bathroom?

Is it the sight of your naked self,

Poised to take potions and lotions

Down from the bathroom shelf?

When your clothes are all of a jumble,

Lying creased on the bathroom floor,

And you're standing pink and vulnerable,

Do you wish for less or more?

How many of us smile with pleasure?

How many of us love the view?

Instead of 'Hallelujah!'

How many of us cry 'Boo Hoo!'?

Not a grin but a wince of displeasure

Greets my bathroom pose.

All I can say is 'Thank goodness

Somebody invented clothes!'

*

Mother Tongue

(Well, the cushion's pink.)

PINK SATURDAY

MOTHER TONGUE

We have all heard the words of The Mother, whether we were deserving or not!

They have echoed around in the ether since the days that we slept in a cot.

And I've recently, blogging, discovered, that maternal advice is the same

Regardless of land or location, regardless of nation or name!

'Your room is a pigsty!' Remember! You must have heard that in your time.

As though just a few items of rubbish could count as a capital crime!

'Do I look like I'm made out of money?' No answer expected for that.

We'd just asked for a luxury item; we'd asked but she'd turned us down flat.

'Don't make me come up there!' she'd bellow, in response to some terrible lapse.

(We'd tramped some wet mud on the carpet or smashed her best teapot, perhaps!)

'Wipe that smirk off your face!' Were we smirking? We just had a small facial tic!

'You wait till we're home!' That was threatening! And we just weren't winning a trick!

'When I was your age…….' That was frequent. The Mother had been such a saint!

While the things she described were so ghastly and quite antiquated and quaint!

'Do you live in a field?' What a question? We'd just left a door open wide!

And we were engrossed in some item that was always located inside.

Oh, we heard her, we heard her, The Mother; her words echoed loud, echoed long.

But it was a bit of a worry when we started to sing the same song! 

*

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WRONG CHOICES

It was an evening of wrong choices!

First there was my date.

She really blotted her copybook

By being two hours late!

I'd met her on the Internet,

Where her photo caught my eye.

She turned up with her head half-shaved,

So the photo was a lie.

I'd chosen 'La Gorgonzola'

As a restaurant of repute.

It boasted 'An Intimate Setting'

So I felt that it would suit.

It turned out to be too intimate;

I couldn't have swung a cat!

All the other tables were empty!

I should have smelt a rat!

At first I admired the table-cloth,

With its patterns in burgundy,

The swirly-curly patterns

Looked quite alright to me

Until I saw they were wine stains!

The cloth had started out white!

But many a glass of red wine

Had been spilt on it each night!

I voiced my peeves to the waiter,

Grumbled with might and main,

And, suddenly Ada shouted

'You do nothing but complain!

I expected a pleasant evening

But you are just a drag!'

And out she flounced with a parting shot.....

'I've really lost my rag!'

It was then I saw the lipstick 

She'd left on the side of her glass!

Well, that was hardly romantic!

I couldn't let it pass!

'If there's one thing I hate it's your lipstick'

I shouted as she went!

*

An evening of wrong choices......

Not the best I've ever spent!

*

Full Moon

                   Local Press photos

WATERY WEDNESDAY

FULL MOON

What a curious title, when there's nary a moon in sight!

Ah, but do you remember, a while ago, when the moon was extra-bright?

The Super Moon they called it, as it floated in the sky,

Not so far away as usual, in fact it seemed nearby.

Our skies were black and cloudless and our view was unsurpassed

So we had a really wonderful view, though other skies were overcast.

I tried to take a photo but I'm just an amateur 

And my resulting pictures were a disappointing blur.

Since then I've seen magical photos, which have captured the lovely scene,

In newspapers  and magazines and up on the TV screen.

But these newspaper pictures are  different, the moon is not displayed.

I thought I'd show a picture of a difference that it made.

High tides were predicted and, for sure, they came to be.

Here we see our local baths inundated by the sea.

Our Winter swimmers, the Mackerals, were battered by the waves

And I believe that they suffered some terribly close-shaves.

All because of that strange thing we know as gravity

And a moon that is pulling, pulling the wild waves of the sea!

The coal ships ignore it.

*

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THIS LITTLE PIG

I don't want to be a meanie,

But I think a Pink Pig beanie

Is a little overdone,

Though it may be lots of fun!

It has a sideways smirk

That says 'This man's a jerk!'

And he must have lots of hassles

With people pulling tassles.

The model looks quite male

But, quite honestly, I fail

To understand a wig

Masquerading as a pig.

It must be a mass of hair

That he has stuffed in there!

For the part that is Pink Pig

Looks bulbous and quite big!

I'd like to know the history

Of this sartorial mystery.

*

Edward Lear

MAD KANE
http://www.madkane.com/humor_blog/
reminds us that it is 'Edward Lear Day'.


My friend, Margaret, will like this poem...... because it's short!


EDWARD LEAR

There once was a poet called Lear

Who said ' I've a crazy idea!

Let us make poems brief!

We said 'What a relief!

For some of them last a whole year!'
*

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Newcastle's special dog beach.

CANINE CORNER

It's good to know that there's a place

Where dogs can bark and sniff and race,

And yap and roll each other over,

And answer if someone shouts 'Rover!'

It's good to know they can get up speed

Released from that all-constraining lead.

It's good to see them running free,

In and out of the splashy sea.

And, should one chance to meet a mate

Of either sex, it must be great

To show that interest. Simply spiffing!

All that nuzzling, all that sniffing!

As for the humans hanging round,

Their agenda is also sound.

'Get yourself a dog'  they say

'If you're hoping love will come your way'.

Many a really great romance

Has started with a sidelong glance

And a timid question 'What's the breed?'

Sometimes that is all you need.

Love is never out of reach

When you're romping on a doggy beach.

*

Mittens

WE WRITE POEMS

http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/

asks for our earliest memory

MITTENS

Some things I know from photographs.......

The pink coat and matching hat,

The house in which we lived back then,

 Little things like that.

But the memory of the mittens

Is mine and mine alone.

It's still as fresh as it ever was,

Yet look how old I've grown!

I had mittens made from rabbit-fur,

And they were soft and white;

And there was a table.....I was small,

So it stood at a great height.

I could only reach up to the table

By standing on my tippy-toes,

So I must have been very tiny,

A toddler, I suppose.

My two mittens were always joined 

By a length of elastic together;

I imagine I used to lose them

When out in the winter weather.

When I was dressed in my little pink coat

The elastic was threaded through,

Up my arms and round my back,

 So losses were very few.

On the day that I remember

I looked up very high

 And saw elastic on the table!

I determined I should try

To reach up and pull the elastic

And the mittens down to me,

Though only an elastic loop

Was all that I could see.

I remember feeling excited!

When I pulled they would tumble down!

And then my Mummy would dress me

And take me into town.

I reached and reached and tugged and tugged

And down those mittens fell,

And, strangely enough, that's the end of it; 

There's nothing more to tell!

Except the memory that still lives

Of achieving something new!

If I could pull my mittens down

There was nothing I couldn't do!

*

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AUNT EDIE'S WEDDING

How I'd love to read the thoughts of the people in this group.

Antie Edie, she's the one in white, is about to fly the coop.

She was my Father's sister, but it seems he wasn't there!

Was he unavoidably detained or didn't he even care?

The groom was in the navy, so uniforms abound.

What were the sailors thinking as they dutifully stood around?

Reg, the husband was older than Edie, by at least a dozen years;

Is she feeling nervous? Her face displays some fears.

My grandfather is on the right, sporting a button-hole;

But my grandmother is absent; didn't she play a role?

Olive, the bride's sister, is standing by her father;

It seems she wasn't a bridesmaid! Did that annoy her, rather?

Carrie, the other sister, is to the right of the bride;

She looks much more cheerful, standing by her side.

How well did the nervous little bride really know the groom?

Had they ever been alone together in a private room?

The lady back row, third from the right, looks a bit like me,

But I don't know if we're related; do we share a family tree?

I'll never know the answers, the emotions are a mystery.

But I'm intrigued by the private thoughts in this little slice of history.

*

The Darkness of Black

JP AT OLIVE GARDEN

http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com.au/

asks us for a 'colour' poem

THE DARKNESS OF BLACK

Black is the depths of the deep dark mine,

Where only feeble lamp-lights shine;

Black are the patterns of Columbine.

Darkness.

Black is the colour of the midnight skies

Where bright stars flit like fireflies;

Black is the colour when you close your eyes.

Darkness.

Black is the colour of the wicked heart;

And the poppy's darkest part;

Black is the fruit in blackberry tart.

Darkness.

*

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BULAWAYO

I'd been two years teaching in the bush and I fancied the bright lights;

Somewhere with a bit of life and sophisticated nights.

I'd left London and its bustle to live a different way,

Somewhere in the sunshine; I couldn't wait to get away.

And my two years in Rhodesia had been pleasant, as a rule,

But a teacher in her twenties chafes, living in a boarding-school.

Bulawayo, compared with London, was a hick-town, that is true,

But the weather was perfection; the sky a continuous blue.

And the city had a friendly air, with lots of bonhomie.

The Africans were happy, or at least they seemed to be.

In all my years in Africa I never saw dissension;

I never walked the evening streets with any apprehension.

Bulawayo means 'place of the killing' but this never seemed to fit;

The Wars had happened long ago and that was the end of it.

There was NO APARTHEID! Although  true 'equality'

Was something not considered by silly girls like me!

I lived at a lovely guest-house called 'Banff Lodge', a pleasant spot,

Where all the guests were white, but a cosmopolitan lot.

As a teacher I taught children who had white, but not black, skins,

And never questioned how things were; that's how prejudice begins.

Today I hear the saddest news about the land I knew

And hope against hope Zimbabwean dreams will, one day soon, come true.

I offer some shots of the city and I hope that you'll agree

That Bulawayo, Matabeleland was a pleasant place to be.

Life moved at an easy pace.

The park held exotic plants.

The City Hall

The International Trade Fair took place while I was there.

The Matopos Hills lay outside the city. Cecil John Rhodes was buried there. The little hills are called kopjes (Koppies)

Wild life was never far away.

*

Taking a Chance

THREE WORD WEDNESDAY

http://www.threewordwednesday.com/

'tremble, keep, dampen'

TAKING A CHANCE

If you tremble on the brink of an adventure

And you wonder should you stay or should you go,

Don't listen to that little voice of caution

Which may dampen spirits, ruining the show.

Keep enthusiasm running at full throttle,

Whoever may advise you 'Count to ten!'

For chances only come along so often

And this one may not ever come again.

*

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OH CHOCOLATE!

Oh chocolate, you wonderful bean!

With your taste and incredible sheen,

Just like doughnuts and chips

You've gone straight for my hips

And the whole world can see where you've been!

*