1,000 Posts

Technically, this announcement is #1,001, but… I MADE IT TO 1,000 posts! Yay! Happy 1,000th Post Day, Blog!

1000 Posts

First Post: “The Post You May Never Read,” on June 25, 2017.

Most Commented-On Post: “Really Big News of a Non-Writing Kind” -not surprising as it was my pregnancy announcement!

Post With the Most Views: My About Me page, which proves you’re all a bunch of stalkers.

Day With the Most Site Hits: December 20, 2018, when many fine writers contributed parodies of favorite Christmas songs for our fifth Terrible Poetry Contest, then I apologized for announcing winners early.

Followers: 936 (Wouldn’t that have been cool to also be at 1,000?)

Blogs I Follow: 290

~~~~~

Thanks, everyone, for the support! Here’s to 1,000 more!

Rainbow in the Sky With Sparkles

“We’re here, live, at the public library, with an …interesting story. Here’s head librarian, Mrs. Scootz, to tell us more.”

“I am MS. SCHOTZ, and am the Media Specialist Director.”

“Sorry, I -”

“As to the ‘interesting’ story you reference, well! that is clearly all ‘story.'”

“I don’t see how -”

“Oh, ken help ye, Cutie!”

“It’s Kat, on-site reporter for KNN News. And you are …?”

“Hank, but you ken call me Hunk!”

“Rrright. Um… Hunk, can you tell us about Rainbow the library cat?”

“Shore shootin’! Las’ time I saw ‘er, Rainbow was blastin’ into space wit’ m’dog, Sparkles!”

Reported, live, for Carrot Ranch’s prompt about Rainbow the library cat.

With snowcats and situations in mind, I thought it would be a fun and informative exercise to write 99-word stories based on a situation. You’ll start with the situation and add what next, what next, what next until you arrive at “until finally.” In 99 words, of course.

February 20, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a library cat named Rainbow who escapes. Use this situation to write what happens next. Where does this e=situation take place, and who else might be involved? Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by February 25, 2020. Use the comment section …to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

 

©2020 Chelsea Owens

Two Poetic Parodies

Now I write when I should sleep;
I write so followers I’ll keep.
If I can rhyme before I wake,
Then approbation I will take.

~~~~~

Two souls converged on a bed of wood,
And told each other, “I’m sorry;” both
And; one, rising, sighed with doubt and stood
And looked with as much love as she could
To his messy hair and undergrowth;
Then thought of another, tall and fair,
And how he had tried, her love, to claim,
Because of a black dress she could wear;
Though the dress was gone; pants hung there
Had, to her mind, an effect the same,
And she therefore turned to bed to lay
In satin folds of sheets grey and black.
Oh, if she’d not want another day!
Yet if he’d not shrug; say ’twas her way,
I know he’d not get cold shoulder, back.
I watch and tell ’bout them with a sigh
Somewhere, sometime, and somewhere now hence:
Two souls converged on a bed of wood,
And told each other, “I’m sorry;” both
And that has made all the difference.

 

©2020 Chelsea Owens

And this is why you go to bed at a reasonable time.

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 2/22 – 2/28/2020

Welcome to the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest #60! I can hardly believe we’ve lasted this long. There’ve been some rough patches, some thrown dishes, but I think we’ve reached a mutual affection along the way.

Although we’ve had a long relationship, you may wish for some instructions regarding bad poetry. A brief, helpful outline may be found here. Bad poetry is an art, much like sculpting with peanut butter or coloring with tomatoes.

Got it? Oh, well. Here are the specifics for this week:

  1. Apparently, the big six-oh means DIAMONDS. So, your Topic is anniversaries. You can write about #60, #80, or even #6 months -you romantic fool, you.
  2. Keep the Length between 5 and 205 words.
  3. Rhyming isn’t everything, but can help the cringe level of a poem.
  4. Geez, man; just make it terrible. Make your 80-years-strong sweetheart question the day she said, “I do,” even after 80.08333 years of putting up with you.
  5. This is about love and anniversaries, right? I’m therefore cool with a G-Rating. (You can be clever without being explicit. You’ve been at this 59 times, ya know…)

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (February 28) to submit a poem.

Use the form below if you want to be anonymous for a week.

If not, and for a more social experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments. If you link back from your blog, leave a comment if it doesn’t show up in a day.

Have fun!

 

adika-suhari-SIQmdpHteVg-unsplash

Photo credit: Adika Suhari

WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 2/21/2020

Well! Last time I hosted a Little Willie poetry contest, I felt most of the entrants didn’t quite grasp the concept -or were too afraid to twist poetry that morbidly. I can safely say that was not the case this time around.

But, first, the winners:

Mrs. Bobbit’s Revenge

by Doug Jacquier

Their wedded bliss was well-famed
But Little Willie’s oats were untamed
So like any good wife
She took out a knife
And now Little Willie is very well-named.

—–

Circular Logic

by masercot

Willie said, “This kitchen work’ll
make me walk around in circles”
His mother answered, “One word more
and I’ll nail your other foot to the floor”

Congratulations, Doug and Charles! You are the most terrible poets of the week!

As I said, these were some fantastic entries: disturbing, clever, sad, and uncomfortable. I felt both Doug and Charles did the best at hitting those marks, plus adding a bit of the play-on-words typically present in the Little Willies.

Before readers dive into the remaining poems, a rating warning is in order. Some of these delve into PG-13 territory, quite possibly because of an alternate slang for Willie that some seemed to remember. You’ve been warned:

Untitled piece

by Matt Snyder

Little Willie on a whim
shed his clothes for a swim
In murky water up to his chin
the leeches and piranhas had a delectable din-din

—–

Harvest Song

by Bruce Goodman

Willie caught his boot laces in a harvester machine
He was sucked in and minced all the way up to his spleen
At the time they were collecting tomatoes
So next hamburger you eat watch out for Willie’s toes.

—–

Untitled piece

by Peregrine Arc

Little Willie
Basket of cherries
With one red yew berry
Little Willy went upsy daisy.

—–

The Pig

by Matt Snyder

Little Willie was gluttonous for ham

Shoved it down his throat with both hands

Found himself choking on a bone

Little Willie’s wife, now finds herself alone

—–

Full Steam Ahead

by Matt Snyder

Little Willie laid a penny on a track one day

“I want a flat penny!” He would say

One day a train came barreling from behind

Little Willie’s casket cost his family one fat dime

—–

One for the birds

by Matt Snyder

Little Willie meant to mow the lawn

Instead he lay about in the grass with one big yawn

With one fell swoop a hawk did come

carrying Willie away to feed her young

—–

Fourth of July 21 Cannon Salute

by Trent P. McDonald

A lively celebration, it must be said
And poor little Willie lost his head
Checking for a cannonball when the big gun was lit
He had a quick peek inside of it

—–

The Car

by Trent P. McDonald

Fooling his sister Willie played a trick
And jumped out the window, lickity-split
I guess he reaped what he sowed
When at 90 mph he hit the road

—–

Little Willie bites the proverbial dust

by Lorraine

Oh, Edward Gorey did not write in vain

For results of his musing continue to remain.

Little Willie, par exemple, best of a miserable lot

Who wasn’t as immortal as once it was thought.

He decided to surf, via the subway train

His complete self, ‘twas never seen again.

Requiring the smallest coffin to be bought

Tickets to his funeral very much sought.

Requiesce in pace, paulo Willie (

—–

New York Rat.

by Lucy

Little Willie was afraid of mice;
He laid in bed nearly suffice,
His head on the pillow felt oddly flat,
As it was actually an obese New York rat.

—–

The Car.

by Lucy

Little Willie rode his bike,
And as he rode, he spiked
Over a rock, and as he flocked
Didn’t see the oncoming car as it honked…

—–

Scissors.

by Lucy

Little Willie had some scissors,
His mother said don’t cut into smithers,
Well, one day Little Willie realized he had five fingers
Some say to this day four on the ground still linger.

—–

Who Ya Gonna Call?

by writerinretrospect

Little Willie, with all the courage he could muster,
Said he’d prove he could be like a Ghostbuster.
So he put on a sheet so that he’d blend in;
But when he saw the ghost in the mirror, he died there and then.

—–

Blank Page

by writerinretrospect

Willie heard of these things they call “blanks”
So he stuffed in a gun’s barrel, as part of a prank,
A wad of some paper, so it would just be a scene.
Unfortunately, he forgot to empty the magazine.

—–

Stranger Danger

by writerinretrospect

There once was a kid named Willie
He asked a stranger to take him to Philly
The stranger said he was craving a cheesesteak…
But that “you’ll do” — and then he ate.

—–

A Hair-raising Story

by Doug Jacquier

Cried an actor ‘My hair is demented”
So off to the barber he went-ed
The poor little sod
chose evil Mr. Todd
Thus were Lovett’s ham burgers invented.

—–

An Axe To Grind

by Doug Jacquier

Lizzie lived with her step-mum and dad
An arrangement she could not accustom
So one day, when feeling ever so sad,
She took an axe and she de-gutsed ‘em.

—–

Terrible Willie

by Aishwarya

Willie, oh willy!
Why does it sound so silly?
Don’t burst my bubble,
I know it sounds terrible!

—–

silly old willie

by Bryntin

silly old willie
ate a very hot chilli
burned up his gut
now his ar** won’t shut

—–

Untitled piece

by Bryntin

willie walked, happy chappy
until he met a croc, all snappy
all teeth, no action, willie was safe
until he died from an infected chafe

—–

Untitled piece

by Bryntin

willie is dead
totally brown bread
what did for him most
was how hot he did toast

—–

Untitled piece

by Bryntin

dismal weather, constant rains
so willie plays some indoor games
solitaire, patience and a bit of snap
but fatally caught by a better mousetrap

—–

Untitled piece

by Bryntin

willie wound up his dragon lizard
nervously the lizard quivered
he pulled its tail, it was a game
until our willie was aflame

—–

Loosing Streak.

by obbverse

Sprightly Little Willie led the foot race
Only to tread on his loose lace,
A face plant spoiled any winning chance-
In last place, in disgrace, in soiled underpants.

—–

Untitled piece

by Ruth Scribbles

Little Willie went to work
Thought it was OK to twerk
Office mates could only smirk
When Little Willie went berserk

—–

Untitled piece

by Christine Bialczak

Little Willie liked to jump
And usually landed on his rump
This time he landed on his head
Poor Little Willie is surely dead.

—–

Untitled piece

by Christine Bialczak

Little Willie is a gem
His mama took his pants to hem
the needle fell into his eye
Now he’s blind and cannot cry.

—–

Untitled piece

by Christine Bialczak

Can you see him, Little Willie?
Isn’t he acting silly?
He was bad and he did drugs
Now he owes his life to thugs.

—–

Untitled piece

by Christine Bialczak

In the kitchen pots are hot
Little Willie thinks its not
Now his skin is burned and charred
Little Willie is forever scarred.

—–

Untitled piece

by Christine Bialczak

Little Willie isn’t nice
Turning things into ice.
He put himself in the chest
Now he is frozen to death.

—–

A Grave Realisation

by Steph

Little Willie heard a voice
Emanating from his toys:
“Dig a hole for Mum and Dad,
They’re starting to smell rather bad.”

—–

Untitled piece

by Robbie Cheadle

Little Willie went to Cape Town

His actions made his mother frown

He took a chameleon from the pet shop

and on its body did gleefully hop

The owner replied by knocking him down.

—–

Untitled piece

by Robbie Cheadle

Little Willie snuck out one night and did a pee

In the cupboard where his mother couldn’t see

The next day the towels smelled quite rank

So he threw them in the septic tank

Mother longs for the day, when from him she’ll be free

—–

Lighten up Willie

by DennyK

Taking his hand from his pocket
The lad put a finger in the socket.
Little Willie didn’t care
He only wanted Einstein hair.

—–

Untitled piece

by Gary

Poor little Willie lived in England but was an immigrant
Posh Boris didn’t like Willie so his deportation was imminent
But Willie worked in a Care Home looking after the sick
But Boris didn’t care because he’s such an uncaring slippery dick.

—–

Untitled piece

by Ruth Scribbles

Little Willie hit a bump
Riding on a camel’s hump
Got a blow between his legs
I wish it had been Trump

—–

SEX ED. 101

by The Abject Muse

Little Willie turned eighteen

so his father bought him a car.

As he handed him the keys

He said “Son, drive fast; drive far.”

Willie headed for Hollywood

to become a movie star

but at acting he was no damn good

and he ended up tending bar.

One night there came a woman

who ordered cherry cola

He asked her for her name

she replied simply,. “Lola.”

“L-O-L-A, Lola?”

“Ah! The man can spell!

“Let’s get married, Lola.”

“Okay, what the hell!”

Due to inexperience

Little Willie soon discerned

There really is no difference

between boys boys and girls.

—–

Untitled piece

by My Son

Willie Willie is so silly
Too bad that that is dead Willie.

—–

Thank you all for entering. I hope you had fun! Return tomorrow at 10 a.m. MST for next week’s topic.

boy-1730275_1920

Doug and Charlcot: I have a new badge you can post, if you want, to brag about your writing skills:

terrible-poetry-contest

©2020 The poets and their respective poems

I Love Your Perfect Crow’s Feet

I love your perfect crow’s feet,
With crown-and-implant smile –
Your smooth-soled orthopedic tread;
Your pref’rence for ar-gyle.
I need my medications
When you commandeer your ‘chair,
When you wink behind trifocals,
When you comb remaining hair.
There’s something sweet and tender
About shouting, “What’d you say?”
Or asking for my keys, because
You put them “somewhere safe.”
I love a man who’s up all night;
Who naps by afternoon.
I’m crazy ’bout “that government”
And soft and mild food.
But, most of all, my dearest,
I really love the way
I never see the wrinkles ’cause
You haven’t aged a day.

 

©2020 Chelsea Owens

Dorry’s Claim: 50 Word & Six Sentence Story Thursday

60© Deb Whittam 2020

“It wasn’t fair that Dorry couldn’t get her hopes up.” – Tuesday Mooney Talks to Ghosts – Kate Racculia

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Old Reliance had seen better: better waters, better days; frankly, better owners. The same could be said of Dorry; feet swinging over the murky Mississippi, frayed cut-offs brushing against Reliance‘s rusted hull, matted clumps of curls sticking to her dirty brow.

It wasn’t fair that Dorry couldn’t get her hopes up, seeing as she never learned what hope was. Come to think of it, she’d never learned much of anything except to not drown and not get beaten.

No matter; things would be different, starting that morning.

Dorry rose, stood against the sweaty sky, declared, “I claim Reliance as m’own!,” and washed her hands of the man floating downriver forever.

©2020 Chelsea Owens

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GirlieOnTheEdge‘s rules:

Rules of the hop:
Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word.
Link the URL to your post via the blue “Click here to enter” button.
Spread the word and put in a good one to your fellow writers 🙂

PROMPT WORD:  CLAIM

Exercise is a Four-Letter Word

Back when I wrote about dieting, I may have been a little hopeful. I may have been trying one of those goal-setting techniques where you tell everyone so then you’re accountable.

I may have then proceeded to make homemade fudge that Sunday.

gaelle-marcel-3ps4K3o8z0I-unsplash

Since I’m still at least 20 pounds heavier than I’d like and therefore feel fat and flabby, I’ve started back into an exercise routine. As opposed to my Couch to Bed program of the last year, this new plan involves trying to do a cardio workout each morning.

‘Cause, you know, dieting and exercise go together. They’re like The Rack and an Iron Maiden; like Taco Bell and food poisoning; like The Apocalypse and radiation. They just work.

This morning, I remembered the last time I felt motivated to torture myself exercise. I’d been going to the gym to run a mile or two, most days a month. I thought that made me mighty enough. Then, my friend invited me to an aerobics class over at her gym. It didn’t take long for me to come to several conclusions:

  • I was NOT in shape.
  • That woman working out in front of me needed more opaque pants.
  • I was probably going to pass out if I didn’t slow my pace.

Our perky, optimistic, sadistic instructor used the breaks between enthusiastic reps to encourage us, to promise “just four more,” and to explain she’d been absent last week because she’d miscarried and had to have a D&C.

Clearly, that woman was not human.

franck-v-YKW0JjP7rlU-unsplash

If she was, however, then I was out of excuses for my lazy style of “exercise.” Some humbled, dormant motivation surfaced. I started watching YouTube videos each day, beginning with “The Fat People’s Workout” and ending up at “Fitness Blender.” I ate better. I ran more than 1 or 2 miles and added weight-lifting. I felt impatient, but also saw my stamina and health improve.

Today, I …couldn’t bring myself to start at the beginning again. I remember watching Richard Simmons-type TV aerobics with my mother; the ‘slow track’ person never looked happy or fit and I wouldn’t either. I therefore put on my old high-impact routine and …mostly made it.

That was a few hours ago. I think I’ll be able to walk now.

Is exercising part of your daily routine, or something you resolved to do more of this year? Are you an adrenaline junkie, running 100-milers and marathons; or are you trying to park farther away from the grocery store entrance?

andrew-dinh-hYTzyMok_a4-unsplash

—————-

Take a lap around what I wrote last week:
Wednesday, February 12: Got all starry-eyed in “Love and Marriage and Practicality.”

Thursday, February 13: Throwback Thursday to my sock addiction.

Friday, February 14: Some sort of holiday, so I shared my old schoolmate’s romantic, authentic video.

Also: Winner of the Weekly Terribly Poetry Contest. Congratulations to Bryntin!

Saturday, February 15: Announced the 59th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is “Little Willie” poems again. Feeling twisted? PLEASE ENTER!

I therefore came up with five examples in, “Little Willie: Some Terrible Poems.”

Sunday, February 16: “Dear, Sweet Sugar Report,” in response to Carrot Ranch’s prompt.

Monday, February 17: An inspirational quote by Mathew S. of Blog of the Wolf Boy.

Tuesday, February 18: “Window Washer Whimsy,” a Senryu for Colleen Chesebro’s Tanka Tuesday.

Wednesday, February 19: Today.

I also posted on my motherhood site. I wrote “Hi. My Name is Mom and I Can’t Think” and “It’s Just a Stage.”

Photo Credit: Gaelle Marcel
Franck V.
andrew dinh

©2020 Chelsea Owens