Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
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Haiku
LoL! Thank you M. I think it is a great direction too, but I am sure that many would find it less than savoury! LoL. Soooooooooo funny.
RotFL!...
Lo! He then glimpsed a
shining blade in the hand of
smiling Sister Bobbit,
who whispered, “This may
smart, I’m afraid. From now on
you’ll have to knob it.”
I am sure that my laughing at this is the epitome of political incorrectness. But still laughing. This is so good M. I'm shaking my head.
A waiter on anArthurian quest to find
the most mammoth bust
whipped out a cloth tape
measure with zest as older
nuns eyed him with lust,
while the bishop moaned,
prostrate on the floor, thinking
his soldier was dead,
and Sister Kate begged
the barkeep for more of what
she dreamed of in bed.
Hi Ajay. Yes to RoFL-ing and LoL-ing. How to follow that?! Yikes M, these are jaw-dropping good. Still laughing.
Pandora: I have a feeling that Frank would agree that once Pandora's box is opened there is no going back.Me: Why were you able to make that sound crude?
Pandora: It only sounded crude because you wanted to be a bishop, once, didn't you? [Laughs.]
Me: I did not! But you wanted to be a priestess!
Pandora: [Laughs even louder.]
Sophia: That wasn't all that funny, Pandora.
Pandora: [Slowly stops laughing.] I know. But it tickled my funny bone. Or, more exactly, Guy's funny bone! [Laughs hysterically.]
Me: [Turns a little red in embarrassment and annoyance.]
Sophia: [Her jaw moves as if to speak a couple of times. But she doesn't say anything.
Pandora:
Where is God not found,
if not where false modesty
gets cut down to size?
[Laughs.]
Me: Pan, that sounds like you've created a Taoist Haiku! How'd you do that?
Pandora: I just—
Sophia: [Interrupts.] Don't encourage her! She has put on the simulacrum of wisdom. Unlike Zen myths, enlightenment cannot be found even by bishops groping red-breasted nuns in a noisy bar.
Pandora: But it isn't found cutting off the poor guy's stick, either!
Me: [Struggles to intervene, sensing that this was becoming a battle. Figures writing a cleaver — er, he meant clever haiku might do the trick.]
Leave quick cleverness
behind and there will not be
the need for cleavers.
Pandora: [Stops speaking.] You're kidding, right?
Sophia: [Turns away from Pandora to look at Guy.] Wow! That is so bad?
Guy: [Smiles, inside.]
Hi Al! How was the sitting? Weren't these Haiku by M just about the funniest ones he's written? Still laughing!And I'm laughing at Frank's penthouse excursion. Man, what a man to go after fragile nuns a little too drunk from their bar hopping! LoL.
But now it's my time to get ready for bed. So, hello and good night. I am still amazed at the Haiku chain today: how do these things happen? And how nice to be going to sleep laughing! Night. See you tomorrow.
Yes, I do. Oddly enough the very clever technical assistants in our office very happily call themselves the three hos. They play with the language and are very funny.And I didn't know Frank wrote Haiku!
See you in the morning! For sure, Garbage detail calls me downstairs then to bed.
Wow... this stuff is... shocking. Lol.
I’m going to modify it a little bit and post it in the Poetry group as “The Nuns’ Night Out.”
Excellent idea! It will be curious to see what kind of reaction this gets. Would the BH appreciate it?
No. The Boathouse has an agenda, though I haven’t figured out just what it is.
I have a feeling I probably shouldn’t have done that. My wife says she doesn’t think Catholics will find it funny.
The Catholics will probably be bi-polar about it: either they will see it as very funny or very inappropriate. Still laughing!
Alex and Hanzle started all this, with their Hamlet acting, then Alex came up with the Nun-No-More Club, then Guy threw in Sisters Babbit and Bobbit and the wonderful verseAfter adjusting
their expectations of truth
God was everywhere.
Thank you M, but how modest of you! I wouldn't have gone anywhere if it hadn't been for your take off of Al and Han's Hamlet in the first place! We are all co-creators of this funny chain!And I have no idea at this time how to follow up. I haven't visited your Poetry posting of it. What have been the reactions, if any?
I took a quick look, and for now the only one's who have read it seem to be us WSSers.
Alex and Kyra came to the rescue! What would have been a disaster turned out to be very nice, thanks to them.http://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/9...
I can imagine this being one of those poems that winds up living long and prosperously as doggerel that becomes the literary snob's guilty pleasure. LoL.
Thank you, Guy! The very idea that something I’ve written might become a “literary snob’s guilty pleasure” tickles me to no end. What a compliment!
The eternal blacksmith recalibrates his workshop;casts the sun and blasts the moon,
of all that remains, he whispers a boon.
Sorry everyone, I didn't know where to begin and so posted this as a response to M's post # 1905. I hope its alright.
That’s excellent, Ajay! I love the line “casts the sun and blasts the moon . . .” The wonderful, philosophical verse in #1905 is Guy’s, though I wish I could say I had written it. Welcome to the haiku thread!
Thanks, M! :) Oh yes, Guy's wonderful haiku got me thinking and helped me in coming up with this.
Beyond copper leaves,the moon was a bronze casting
over forged cattails.
Ajay wrote: "The eternal blacksmith recalibrates his workshop;casts the sun and blasts the moon,
of all that remains, he whispers a boon.
Sorry everyone, I didn't know where to begin and so posted this as a..."
Welcome to the WSS thread, Ajay! Excellent entry. And I am happy that my effort helped to bring about a little burst of haiku creativity. (And thank you M for your kind comment.)
And Al and M also excellent extensions off of Ajay's theme.
Now what to write?
The crows eyed the moon,then mocked God's coarse laughter with
His sweet golden grass.
He fired his rustingshotgun at the crows. He spoke
of the Old Crow laws.
When asked what had wrecked
his corn rows, he said crows were
the probable caws.
Thanks, Al and Guy! I couldn’t come up with anything on par with Guy’s. His are always multi-faceted, multi-layered.
Sing a debt of trillions,a pocket full of air,
ten and ninety dirty birds
gathered as a Senate.
When the floor was opened,
the birds began to poop.
Wasn’t that an awful mess
for someone to clean up?
Thanks Alex, Guy! Beautiful writing: M, Alex, Guy! Loving this!
Ajay, you must be a glutton for punishment! By the way, your poem “Ball of Wool,” posted in Week 98, is one of my favorites in the W.S.S.
Thanks M.But speaking of punishment, here is something less then odoriferous — or maybe more than!
There was a clutch of owls
in their parliament of scowls
who wore their dirty towels
caked with foul smelling fowls.
The buzzards rang the bell,
on this day of feathered hell,
filled with guano there to sell
to the birds who loved the smell.
Who would think to buy this crap
as if it were the fairest scrap
but it was gone in just a snap
all before their tea and nap.
Oh, my! I love the oblique reference to Chaucer’s “Parliament of Fowls.” How to reply to this one?
:) Thanks, M! I didn't know about that expression until I read your post. I just googled it :) Thanks again, 'Ball of Wool' was the shortest one I had written until my recent haiku indulgence :) Talking of favorites, my favorite of yours is 'Cidar Cove'(did I get it right, sorry it was a long time ago). To be frank, it inspired me. I remember reading it over and over again.
Wow, lovely poem Guy! I have to confess this, rhyme is a personal favorite. I just can't resist sometimes. Your's is perfect!
Thank you, M, Al, and Ajay. Such a bizarre poem. I have no idea where such doggerel comes from.M wrote: "Beyond copper leaves,
the moon was a bronze casting
over forged cattails."
M, I keep going back to this delightful poem. Ajay, your blasted moon keeps asking me to re-read it too. I suggest that both of these would find a home at the small stones haiku blog. And Al, I really liked your green tea chin scratcher.
A truly diverse and entertaining collection.
Off of Al's Haiku:
Green tea chin scratcher
Was the clue left by Alex
Looking for Frank's truth.
Guy, I revised it and sent it to Fiona Robyn. Here’s the version I sent her:Over forged cattails,
a bronze casting of the moon
hangs through darkened leaves.
M, this also is a great 'real' Haiku. Al, I was a little concerned that Frank might take umbrage at my taking his name in vain. So, I am somewhat relieved that you, at least, are okay with it.
And I'll see if I can get something together for this week's topic.
“Miniaturized,Agent Bond was soon in post
nasal drip swimming,
“till he tickled the
nose hairs of a stacked blonde.” Thus
penned Ian Phlegming
M, still so very funny! Thus/penned Ian Phlegming with it rhyming. LoL. And this is strange, this crossing over of haiku from the stork thread? Who would have thought the stork would bring about a birth of phlegmatic haiku! LoL!Al, are you sure Frank won't get his knickers in a twist?
Who was it, this Bondthat bound freedom with a twist
of dark women found?
Could he be truth's sound,
that freedom comes with a fist
that deforms gold's bond?
Alex (Al) wrote: "He might now that he's snapped out of it. More Bond haiku? I think we did a bought of Bond once before.
Bought? Is that the word I want? It's late. i should be in bed."
I suspect you want 'bout'. English is SO complicated! Can you imagine trying to learn it as a second language? Nigh impossible, I would think.
fool's gold, the cover's blowntwo dry martini's
and Bond is gone. Octomessy.
Sorry everyone, I just survived a bout of viral fever and my head is still wrapped in a blanket. No idea if what I've written is even vaguely related to the previous post.
I'm very glad to hear that you survived the viral fever!This is an excellent non-traditional haiku. And you have made a delightful balance between being serious and funny. So-called purist may not like it, but madman Guy more than does. This is also an excellent extension of mine. Very well done. Now you have set a high challenge!
Take some Cold-FX, Al. I find that it is very effective if taken as soon as the symptoms are detected.Now to see if I can finish my lightening story before deadline. Which is hard to do sitting out on the balcony instead of at the proper computer.
Cold FX boosts the immune, so I suspect it will help with a flu, too.And I didn't get to the real computer until now, so not sure if I will get it done. Ah well.
Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company!
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The nuns were unclad,
the bishop in drag. Frank sniffed
a Cuban cigar.
The abbess was mad--
someone called her a hag. Who
lurked behind the bar?
I’ve added this from a subsequent post I had removed not realizing Guy had seen it. My apologies for having yanked the ball out the way Lucy does in the Charlie Brown comic strip. The hand the bishop is guiding is, of course, that of Sister Bobbit. I hope no one under eighteen is reading this.
The bishop guided
a lovely hand. Aching was
he to annoint her!
He had no idea
that what she planned was to
slice off his pointer.
He buried his face
in the treasure chest of the
oddly-smiling nun,
and she unzipped his
hatch, though he couldn’t have guessed
what soon would be done
as she fished out the
instrument he often used
down in the trenches--
to him, trust was meant
to be abused between knees
of lusty wenches!
Lo! Then he glimpsed a
shining blade in the hand of
smiling Sister Bobbit,
who whispered, “This may
smart, I’m afraid. From now on
you’ll have to knob it.”
Sister Olga would
later tell that it was like
something she had dreamed;
she was showing her
tattoo to Sister Estelle
when the bishop screamed,
screamed bloody murder,
screamed for his life, then lay on
the floor, like a fop
while Sister Bobbit
showed the trick knife she’d bought at
a novelty shop.