Sunday, July 30, 2017

Poem after 35 UNBELIEVABLE COOKING HACKS for holiday drinks and fruit bought from the market on holiday



Oops. Wrong blog. What shall I do?
Leave it, my friend. Hope it's of use to you.
Then call it serependipity, a lucky clog
Misplaced video makes an odder blog.

Poem On Cooking and Eating
by Angela Lansbury

I wish that I could learn to cook
Spend no less time writing a book
Or reading books. Let other cooks
Use aromas like a title's hook

May all book titles have a colour
Nothing bland, boring, duller
But instead, a strawberry red
As spicy as pepper, as soft as bed

All through the day I alternate
Writing and reading, food and drink
The hunger which makes me want to eat
Feeds my drooped brain, pushed to grow, create and think.

Angela Lansbury

First version reads
Then feeds my brain with the urge to think
Second version ends
Then feeds my brain urged to make and think.
Third version above.

I read in a book on songwriting that you should edit your first draft with surprising and contrasting words to make your song (or poem) original, memorable, not just doggerel.
However, adding adjectives, metaphors, removing a and the, sometimes spoils the flow.

I remember contradictory advice:
If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
Don't over-write. (In both senses: don't cross out, don't spend too much time changing your first thoughts. I often write a blog and add a sentence to the end of a paragraph. Then the following paragraph's first sentence does not follow on, because the last sentence of the preceding paragraph has now gone off at a tangent.

I leave both final sentences so you, or a later editor, can choose what goes best.

PS Adding a syllable to every line:

How I wish that I could learn to be a cook
But spend no less time on writing a book
Or reading books. So let some other cooks
Use aromas to tempt, like a titles' hooks

May all book titles have vivid colour
Nothing bland, boring, grown dry, or duller
But instead, a bright, slap, strawberry red
As spicy as pepper, soft as shared bed

Each day I yo-yo, forced to alternate
Writing and reading, stop for food and drink
The hunger which drives my strong urge to eat
Feeds my drooped brain, pushed to grow, create, think.
-ends-

Write A Poem Every Day

Monument to great writers, Berlin.


Write A Poem Every Day
by Angela Lansbury

He asked a question, my 'young' son:
"How many poems have you done?"
"I've no idea, dear. I have lost count.
I'm sure that it's a large amount.

"I used to number every one
I piled them, dated, in a file
Until alas, my laptop crashed
Then I lost heart for quite a while

"I thought I ought to do something
From one thousand, re-numbering
I started at one, changed to songs
Then stopped that, 'cos I couldn't sing."

"Mum, write a poem every day!"
"Yes, I'll do that! I've lots to say.
On second thoughts, I won't, no way!
Another burden. Go away!

"I've made more vows that I can keep
Too tired to think, too tired to sleep
Follow more rules? Like school! Like sheep!
Go with the flow? I'm in too deep!

"You see the way I work. You see
I'm losing heart before line three
I think I'll make a cup of tea
Better you do it, dear, than me.

"The trouble is, I work alone
I get distracted by the phone
Hey! Give me a nudge on the phone -
We'll help each other - not alone!"

"But poetry's like health and wealth
Don't wait for help; do it yourself
Don't blame others, get on with it!
Not a tome, five minutes, one bit."

"Yes, take heart, I'll give it a try
Let's get it done before we die
A simple goal. It's short and clear
Three hundred couplets plus, each year!"
-ends-
Copyright Angela Lansbury July 30 2017.
Please don't copy but please do share a link to my pages, on travel, and poetry, and this poem. Thank you so much.

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Computer Dating


Computer Dating by Angela Lansbury
Version 1
Where is my millionaire?
Why does he keep me waiting?
I'll have to go and find him
So I'll try computer dating

You can look for one who cooks
Ask for a wit who's fit
Who reads balance sheets or books
Or say you do not mind a bit

I like company directors
Men with PHDs as well
Yet despite their education
Not one of them can spell

Now most men tell big lies
About their height and weight
Their body and wallet size
Married status, mental state

Their photos are out of date
They have no sense of time
I guess their photos, like their ages
Are just the same as mine

One said he'd give me a ring
Ambiguous beyond belief
One arrived wearing a sling
One had lost his two front teeth

I've seen the bearded and the bald
All religions, and free thinkers
I've met redheads, young and old
Priests, virgins, and sex-mad drinkers

When they ask, "Are you divorced?"
I reply, "It's complicated,"
The tenth man I saw this week
Asked, "Am I the first you've dated?"

I've met lots of reject husbands
I can't tell you what I've done
But after husband thirty-two
I'm calling husband number one.
-ends-
Copyright Angela Lansbury 25 July 2017

Revised at the suggestion of Alison Chisholm at Writers' Holiday

Computer Dating by Angela Lansbury
Version 2
Where is my millionaire?
Why does he keep me waiting?
I'll have to go and find him
So I'll try computer dating

You can look for one who cooks
Ask for a wit who's fit
Who reads balance sheets or books
Or say you do not mind a bit

I like company directors
Men with PHDs as well
Yet despite their education
Not one of them can spell

Now most men tell big lies
About their height and weight
Their body and wallet size
Married status, mental state

Their photos are out of date
They have no sense of time
I guess their snapshots, like their ages
Are just the same as mine

One said he'd give me a ring
Ambiguous beyond belief
One arrived wearing a sling
One had lost his two front teeth

I've seen the bearded and the bald
All religions, and free thinkers
I've met redheads, young and old
Priests, virgins, and sex-mad drinkers

When they ask, "Are you divorced?"
I reply, "It's complicated,"
The tenth man I saw this week
Asked, "Am I the first you've dated?"

I've met lots of reject husbands
I can't tell you what I've done
But after trying thirty-two
I'm back with husband number one.
-ends-
Copyright Angela Lansbury 25 July 2017.
This poem was read at Writers and Artists' Holiday at Fishguard in Wales.
I received lots of compliments.


Monday, July 10, 2017

10 Egg Tricks - and an egg poem which I was egged on to write





I'll have to beg

I'll have to beg
You to go shopping for a pint of milk
Another box, I need another egg
I shall reward you with a great surprise
Not just an egg, a shape to please your eyes

It's just five minutes walk, my dear
It's exercise, not losing a whole day
Besides, I have a secret plan
Something I'll do while you're away

Please don't suspect I'll phone another
Friend, or mother, or waste time watching porn
Trust me, I have a tea-time plan
I promise something new will soon be born

I long for your return each time we part
I shall create messages of love upon the plate
For cookery is just another love, another art
To give, and to receive, an egg - shaped like a heart!
-ends-
Angela Lansbury. Copyright. 2017. Wed 2nd August.

Please don't bury me in a cemetery

Tomb of Oscar Wilde. France.

by Angela Lansbury

Please don't bury me in a cemetery
Where I'll be stuck for eternity
With words declaiming misery

Sit me in the box of a theatre
Until you can think of something better
A comedy to distract my debtors

When you are sure that I'm deceased
Prop me up at a table watching a feast
Give me bread and water and fruit, at least

I'd like a coffin with a window
Flowers and gold and a silken halo
And a phone in case I don't want to go

Romanian gravestones get biscuits and beer
Write on my headstone, 'Wish you were here'

Like primitives, dig me up a every year
Each year wash me off, provide a new dress*
In Sulawesi they say it saves children distress
So make me and my dead friends all look our best

If you have to pay for a cemetery
To please somebody from the powers that be
Then publish my books of comedy
Because laughter's the best tribute to me.

Angela Lansbury
copyright 2017

Inspired by Wolfe's poem about the burial of Sir John Moore at Corunna in Spain.
Toraja, Sulawesi, Indonesia
*http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2745169/Zombie-chic-Indonesian-village-Toraja-s-bizarre-annual-ritual-Ceremony-Cleaning-Corpses-MaiNene.html

Additions July Wed 26, written at the request of Alison Chisholm, poetry teacher, for performance at the last Summer Writers' Holiday in Fishguard, Wales. (You can still book for a spring weekend, Feb 2018. See www.writersholiday.net.

The Graveyard
by Angela Lansbury

Please