Tag Archives: puns

140 Story – Editing

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As you do, when feeling punder the weather.

NaPoWriMo 2015 Day 5 – Shellshock

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Dye the egg
wrap the paper
take the ribbon
tie the bow

One day a year
just the one day
a colourful hunt
a harmless hunt

Dye the egg
scrap the paper
take the ribbon
tie the bow

We burrow we dig
we hide we scuttle
bright eyed bushy tailed
spring in our step

Dye the egg
scratch the paper
scrape the ribbon
tie the bow

Don’t crack the shell
no ghost inside
one big machine
we’re cogs of a wheel

dye the egg
scrap the paper
scrape the ribbon
tie it now
dye tie dye tie

No one’s an island
this is an island
we are an island
a dessert island

bow now bow low
dye tie dye tie
die die die

[After I posted this, I realised what was running through my mind as I was writing: Neil Gaiman’s ‘Nicholas Was..’ and scenes from Rise of the Guardians. Credit where it’s post-due.]

How to Scare You

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As the November chill
starts to creep in
ever so softly

as you walk home
along darker roads
ever so swiftly

as the sharp wind cuts
through your warmth
consider this:

I could cut out for you
some time to kill,
as dawn turns into day
and day into dusk
into night.

I could make you
and all your worries
simply disappear,
vanish where no one
will see.

I could offer you
my whole beating heart
on a cold platter,
my hands reaching out
to yours.

I could cook for you
and we shall feast
on whatever remains
once the light has come
and gone.

I could prepare you
for what awaits
I could tell you
what will come
I could show you
what I’ll do

So come closer,
don’t be afraid.
See? I’m smiling.

NaPoWriMo Day 20 – Hop to It

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Yes I know I should’ve been writing
but yesterday was way too eggciting!
We were tracking a rabbit
and he just wouldn’t have it:
he would not give ’em up without fighting.

Late poem in the aftermath of chocolate day. Vaguely inspired by this guy.

Meating

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“Pleased to meet you, do come in! You must be my eleven thirty, about young Thomas? Great potential in the boy, nice brains behind his attitude. Very, very nice brains…”
It stood up, hobbling on mismatched legs. Limping, it approached the concerned couple, one arm outstretched, looking for a handshake. The other arm lay lifeless on the desk.
“Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Mr – and I’m…”, it mumbled something that sounded very much like, but not quite, teacher. “Yes, I was part of a new positive discrimination scheme to allow even more under-represented communities to contribute and take part in academia”, it said, smiling. Though it was getting weary.
The job could take its toll, being so lively and warm-hearted all the time. It was constantly afraid about falling apart under too much pressure. And it could sense what was in their minds. It could smell it.
“I do, yes”, it replied, “I understand that there are rules against beating, but no one mentioned tastin– testing what the pupils are made of. In fact, I make them run… classes on their own, once in a while. See how they’ll work in a challenging environment, prove their leadership skills, savour their… their…” It could smell them. Terribly distracting. It was getting hungry.
It picked up the arm from the desk, and glanced at the wrist watch – the next appointment wasn’t until noon. It looked back at the couple, and smiled.
Lunch time.

Quest

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You seek that one word
a brief cluster of wit.
You want it to convey
the entire cosmos of the text
its spiralling worlds
in a single, dynamic particle.

You search for the
ultimate starting point
the liberating bracket
the line to be crossed
but it eludes you.

You think of games
and nobility, mysteries
and systems, that’ll-do
and that’s-not-right,
sleeplessness, frustration
climbing, digging, clutching
at the dregs of inspiration
for one more drop.

You sigh, sit back, and shrug.
Fuck it. It’s just a title.