I'm All For Fairytales

 

And this dainty maiden caught my attention today, thanks to Susan at Stony River, who gave us the picture so's we could produce witty offerings of 140 characters (or fewer, if we're lucky!) for her Microfiction Monday #72. Here's one as sweet as any you'll find, I'll be bound...

Cinderella told me Prince Charming's footwear was less than savoury! I hope this puff of magic, deodorising powder solves his problem.

Puzzling People

Willow set a puzzle for this week's Magpie Tales #54,

which made me think of Ada and Caddoc - the most puzzling

people I have ever met!
(Click on their names if you missed their latest story!)


A Tribute From Trellissimo

How like a jigsaw puzzle, my two friends!
Their lives forever link and break apart,
though each without the other is but half
a whole person. At life's very heart
they have found a place of truce, a private
world within whose margins squabbles cease.
They meet on equal terms, and so together
may explore the advantages of peace-
ful existence. Minor altercations
split the surface of their lives, it's true
but they learned to bend and flex
when volatile earth tremors threatened to
engulf those castles built in air
by this ill assorted, perfect pair.

Have We Missed The Bus?

Ill Met In Amber

Like we two, these ants
are fencing face to face...
How similar we are,
an ill assorted brace.

Could we melt the resin
that keeps couples apart
just out of kissing distance
Ada, my dearest heart?

See! One ant is jumping.
He's keen to reach her arms.
All his insect instincts
have fallen for her charms.

Those two can no more move;
they're frozen fast in time.
But we, through care and love,
can make our hearts entwine.

120 Socks is driving The Poetry Bus this week - are we too late for tickets?!

Too late for tickets? Oh, my!  Thank goodness I, Ada have learned how to sabotage one of Caddoc's posts, in order to give MY side of the story!

Caddoc, will you never learn, my man?
Like the formic acid ants dispense,
all this talk of kissing distance stings
my acerbic wit, and makes but little sense.

Insect instincts are not ones I know
well, for in the main, all of mine agree
it's best to keep your eager arms at bay,
not let them close enough to reach for me!

For then I too, might end up trapped within
your sugar syrup words, with no escape,
like the ants entombed in amber resin!
The very prospect sets my mouth agape... 

A Day For Romance

This illustration provided by Susan at Stony River, was supposed to inspire Bloggers to write a succinct caption, in 140 characters or less, for her Microfiction Monday prompt. But I was feeling loquacious, and this was the result - sorry, Susan  I promise to do better next time.!*Scroll on down!

When Ada suggested a picnic (years ago, one Spring)
I little thought I'd get left out...But I sat there, pondering,
while naughty Ada and a beau started to get pally,
and her next door neighbours, Johnathan and Sally,
calmly read their magazine, oblivious to all;
the hills and vales held no allure. But I was held in thrall
from that point on, dear reader, by Ada's fulsome charms...
and couldn't wait until the time I'd hold her in my arms
as we glided round the dance floor at the local tuppenny hop,
The beau was soon discarded, for she didn't care a jot
for his rather lovesick gaze - she liked her men more manly!.
And so it was dear Ada soon put paid to weedy Stanley
and went for Caddoc's muscles. Do I rue the day?
Of course I don't you sillies! I'd have it no other way! 

Happy Valentine's Day, Beloved! 

*But wait - here's a late edition MFM, just for Susan!
Keep still - there's an ant creeping inside your shirt! Watch it! He might be heading towards your pants! 

Poetry Bus 14th February

More and more I am turning my hand to poetry, now that I have given up playing the saxophone to please my Beloved.  I notice three picture prompts on this week's Poetry Bus Blog. The driver is Dana Bug. So here is my effort, based on  -

Caddoc Laments

Unless your journey is essential
don't go in snow. That's really mental,
as I learned last month to my cost.
I drove my chair out in the frost
and snow. I'd castored barely half a mile
before I had a nasty pile-
up on a smooth and snowy lot.
But what had shunted me was not
a drop-head easy chair like mine.
It was some drug-fuelled careless swine
driving a souped-up two-seat sofa
at sledging speeds. He was no loafer.

We leapt out, slammed out doors and faced
each other in the frozen waste,
blamed each other, as drivers will
for causing this upholstered spill.
"Why don't you look where you are going?"
"You jerk! You might have thought of slowing!"
"That chair ain't built for snow like this!"
"A box of rust your settee is!"
"Go-faster stripes! Outdated curves - "
"A write-off's what your heap deserves!"

Just then we spotted blue lights flashing
beyond the trees, saw cop-chairs dashing
towards us through the wintry snow.
We said "The time has come to go."
We fired our motors. Just our luck!
Our furnitures were firmly stuck
together by interlocking springs
protruding through their horse-hair wings.

The SWAT team circled. Bull-horns roared.
I thought "That's going overboard!
I set out for a winter drive.
I'd like to get back home alive
and not end up a bullet-blocker."

Next time I'll drive dear Ada's rocker.

"I'll Be Back!"

Sometimes Dame Fortune lends a helping hand!  This week's prompt from Willow Manor for Magpie Tales#52 is a picture of the very house where the Police are holding Caddoc Trellis incommunicado.  So . .  Trellissimo to the rescue!

Scene:   The front desk of a police hideout deep in the Abergele hinterlands.

Enter:   Terminator Trellissimo, stripped to the waist and brandishing an AK47.  He has several belts of ammunition looped round his immensely broad shoulders and 3 or 4 Glock pistols in his waistband.  He walks as if he has long Samurai swords down both pant legs, which indeed he has.

Desk Sergeant: "Goodmorning, can I help you, sir?"

Trell: This whole thing's really most unfair! I think you're holding my friend Cad. That's really very, very sad. That kinda makes me really mad, 'cos what he did was not so bad.

Sergeant:  My Gawd!  You rhyme like Doctor Seuss! Cad loitered 'neath the Town Square clock! We lifted him. He turned quite puce. We thought that he might run amok. That's why we've got him in the dock.

Trell gazes tenderly at his AK47

Trell: You know what this is, Mister Copper? Trell's highly lethal baddy-stopper. Just watch that you don't come a cropper. Now, bring forth Ada's floor-tile mopper!

Sergeant: Don't threaten me, you muscled creep! The swinish Cad's in dungeon deep. He sowed crime's wind! Whirlwind he'll reap! (Pause) Your rhyming crimes make Willow weep.

Trell: Sergeant, my mood is turning black. I will not cut you much more slack. Stand-off becomes all-out attack - (With Austrian accent -) I'LL BE BACK!

(Exit Trellissimo)

Sergeant: Who was that guy festooned with arms, quite lacking any manly charms, reject from a body-building farm, and threatening me with G.B harm?

(Enter, splintering the door, a Humvee driven by Trell, a maniacal light in his eyes. Smashes into desk. Trell leaps out.  Fires several bursts from AK47 into the ceiling)

Trell:  Now please hand over my friend Caddoc before I slice you like a haddock, and lest your plight gets any worse - stop slagging off my Magpie verse! So . . follow me, you horrid man. I'll lock you in poor Caddoc's can.

(Quaking, Sergeant hands keys to Trell and points down corridor. Exit Trell down the corridor prodding Sergeant along with muzzle of the AK47. He reappears a few moment later with one arm round Caddoc Trellis's shoulders)

Trell. I love Cad like he was my twin. He has no business being in this hell-hole deep in bosky wood.

Now he is freed, as well he should  be. His happy smile says all now well is, as home he trots to Mrs.Trellis, while I, the hero of North Wales will read more Magpie Birthday Tales.(*)

(*) This Magpie comes to us on the anniversary of Tess Kincaid's first Magpie prompt. Raise your glasses, folks!  'Nuff said.

Microfiction Monday #69

Susan at Stony River challenges us to construct a story/poem around this picture prompt, but in no more than 140 characters.

"Officer - have you seen my Caddoc? Wrinkly. Silly brown hat. I should have met him at 2."

"We lifted him at half past, Mrs.T. For loitering"

(140 characters . . I hope)

Slings And Arrows?

Stafford Ray! What a stroke of genius! A new board game for the terminally bored! After reading these words of yours:-

"I had to block the Trellis blog from the kiddies after this! Shame, they used to use Ada's photo as a darts board!"

which you left left on Ada's Monday's Child post, it set me thinking. Here is my prototype for a brand new game, Triple Daft Darts. Be carefull, when playing, not to confuse Bullseyes with Bulls**t...

Every Dog Has His Day

A hang dog expression is one I know well,
when I'm in the dog-house. Ada could tell
you, if she wanted to, I'm sure
what norty capers she sends me there for!

If I tickle her fancy and give her the giggles,
she's apt to get stroppy, and possibly niggle
until I turn tail and give her a nip
by thinking up some inappropriate quip

which displeases Beloved. I'll get sent to clink
unless I can tempt her with a little drink
of frothy hot chocolate, and digestive biscuit,
and maybe a quick kiss- if I dare risk it!

The pathway to romance is often a stony one,
and in that department, I can't be the only one
who's happy to take the rough with the 'smoove',
for the sake of the person they've chosen to 'loove'.

N.B.Alan and Kat at Sepia Saturday are used to seeing all kinds of old photographs, but how about this fine fellow who was sitting disconsolately amongst the Google images, waiting to be discovered? I couldn't resist using him as a prompt for some more Trellis Teasing!

Monday's Child #31

Monday's Child (alias bkm) offers this charming prompt of two little angels heading up the Wooden Hill to Bedfordshire

Unhappily, there's a shortage of angels in Abergele.

Bedtime Story.

What an angelic little lad!

Reminds me of my husband Cad.

Just watch me lure him up the stair

and pin him in my bedroom lair.

I'll kid him that his Little Ted

will eat him in his ground-floor bed,

so best he comes upstairs with me,

for Husband Caddoc, don't you see

your wooden horsey cannot climb

a staircase. We'll escape in time!

Monday's my weekly pram-raid night

Caddoc, and I'm a frisky sprite!
My hike last week through winter's snow
has left me feeling all aglow.
And what to say about your brandy?
It makes me feel I rhyme with handy!

Do not be fooled by white night-shirty.

When we're alone, it's down-and-dirty.

(You can read more child-friendly entries by following the link to Monday's Child, or for another grown up version, not unlike my own, I've spotted one here, too!)

Ada, Beloved, I have just come downstairs to find you have left yurself logged into the computer again! Think of our electricity bills! And what are you doing, broadcasting frisky details of white night-shirts to all and sundry? Spare my blushes... I may have to return after I've thought long and hard about a suitable repartee to your poetic effusion above...

Yours,

Caddoc X

My Winter Journey

Willow's prompt for Magpie#50 led me down strange pathways.  I was trying out the snowshoes husband Caddoc gave me for Christmas when signs and portents appeared in the sky . . . .

Nothing Ventured...

Whose woods these are I do not know.

My house is somewhere...  Down below
lies Abergele, straight ahead.
I'll take this Scenic Route instead!

My husband Cad must think I'm queer
To walkies take this time of year
past swamps and woods and frozen lake -
But Ada Trellis knows not fear.

But soon my legs began to ache
That sky sign? Surely a mistake?
The only sight I've seen for days
are forks in roads I did not take.

The woods are creepy! I don't like
this never-ending country hike
North Wales via Snowdon, Offa's Dyke!
Snow shoes? I need a motor bike!

(Phew! Abergele at last!  Change plagiarism from Robert Frost to Wordsworth)

Earth hath not anything to show more fair
than Caddoc with my brandy. There!
I'll dump my snow shoes in his shed
Take Winter Journeys in my head

in  future.

A Sepia Saturday Poem For Ada

Ada Trellis, my Beloved

When I looked at this old photograph of my Beloved today, I felt moved to declare my love to the world - or at least, Blogworld, and the followers of Sepia Saturday!

First And Last Love

Ada may not smile a lot,
but, by golly, has she got
what a gal should have, or not?

I keep her picture near my heart...
She's been my woman from the start,
since first love pierced me with it's dart.

And though her hair is turning grey
her lines and wrinkles, I must say,
make me love her more each day.

For she to me is the only one
who warms me like the golden sun,
and will do, till our lives be done.

Evening Hymn And Last Post?

While it is still Friday, and therefore the right day for creating 55 words of wonder or wisdom for Mr Knowitall, I have done exactly that, to continue with the theme of Beloved's previous post...

Slippery Slopes

We figure skate across marital ice,
some results being less than nice,
as the figures inscribed fail to please
and sometimes bring us to our knees.

But when we’re ruled by rhyme and rhythm
our bodies perform, they’re lithe and lissome.
We pirouette to the dance of life,
me (Caddoc Trellis) and Ada my wife.

Magpie#49

These 3 ladies are Willow's prompt for the week.  Enlarge the picture and you can see they are armed with skates!

You can see from my photograph alongside that I do not smile easy! So blame Herr Waldteufel and the cold weather for encouraging me to compose this pastiche. The fall-out is that my husband Caddoc has learned to play the tune on his wretched saxophone. Which would be fine if I could skate!

"Les Patineurs"  (Emile Waldteufel, 1882)



(Sing Along to the music.
Wait for the intro . . . Now, after me . .  One, Two, THREE!)

Skating on snow.
Ever so slow.
Skates catch in skirts
and then down.You. Go!

Down on your ar**
Oh, what a farce
Might as well try to
Skate. On. Grass

Where did you/all get those/funny hats/funny hats?
Aren't you a/trio of/silly prats/silly prats?
O.K., lets/see three ice/acrobats/acrobats
skating like/ar-ice-to/CRATS/ -to CRATS!

Why don't you/look for the/frozen stuff/frozen stuff?
Dare you to/swish and spin/in the buff/in the buff.
I'll heat some/soup when you've/had enough/had enough.

Don't look so/sour girls, don't/TAKE/the HUFF!

Get your skates on, then, girls
Try some figures and whirls
Awesome toe-loops and twirls
Or some lifting and hurls.

You're a joy to behold,
but you look very cold.
Are you much too old
Undersold
Over bowled
Growing mould
'bout to fold
So . .  I'm . . . told

Waldteufel's Waltz
danced without faultz!
Three perfect "tens"
when the music haltz

Mag Forty Nine
really was fine.
God Bless you Willow,
and yours, and mine!

Stony River's prompt promoting marital harmony...?

 See Stony River's prompt and the responses to it HERE.

Cheer Up, Caddoc!

Dear Blogfriends . . . look at the Musical Thoughts (below) penned by my devoted Caddoc in response to Willow's musical prompt. This is my answer to it, beloved.

Raise your windpipe to your lips!
Your Ada will not bark!  Her
love for you would be no less
if you played like Charlie Parker!

I, Caddoc, have a little extra to add to your offering, O Moon of My Delight!

Charlie Parker? Hmm. I see!
He had a lot more puff than me,
but would he love you, if he knew
your little foibles like I do?  

With love ,

from

C T.

 

Musical Thoughts!

If music be the food of love
I’d best play for my turtle dove,
But not upon a saxophone –
Or I’ll be driven from our home!

Inspired by Willow's Magpie #48!

P.S. If you are wondering about the saxophone, go HERE to read some of the back story!


And now it looks like you'll have to go HERE, because Ada has come back with a riposte! Doesn't she like to make life difficult?

Microfiction Monday #65

Stony Rover's metallic prompt gave Mrs. Trellis and Trellissimo and idea . . .

 Ada: “Caddoc? You in there?"
Trellissimo (tapping metal plinth experimentally):
"Come down, Mrs.T! Wherever he’s hiding, it isn't in the tin suit."

Six Word Saturday, January 8th.

"Six Word Saturday" asks all participating bloggers to sum up their lives in a mere six words.
Easy Peasy!

"Was going great.  Then Caddoc appeared!"





Pssst! Thank goodness Ada has now sloped off early to bed, and left her computer unguarded! Now comes my chance for retribution -  or at least, my chance to have the last word for once. Think on this, my little ingrate!
Signed, Cad X 

Magpie Tales#47

Willow presents a puzzling prompt this week . . .

It's a . . . . or is it?

A Magpie blogpoet called Freud

said "This is one prompt to avoid!

It's quite weird, almost formless.

The sculptor was gormless -

Now Tess will be really annoyed!"

A much wiser blogger said "Sure?

The sculpt really isn't obscure!

It's three figures entwining.

Cad with Ada reclining -

Note, Trellissimo, nothing impure!" 

Meanwhile, in another place, Caddoc posted his version...

Plea To Humanity

Build a human tower,
give it strength to live
and learn to work together,
to pardon and forgive
the petty altercations
that block the way to peace,
until a world emerges
in which all warrings cease.



And Ada posted hers...

 Is This An Example Of The Black Arts? 

  

Bodies? I'm not sure

of impure

Human Grooves

as implied

by limbs

in knots, tied

together - HerS? HimS?

More Hands And Gloves

Willow's Magpie prompt had a strange effect on me...

Magpieing For the 46th Time . .

. . . prompted by Willow's gloves, and recent disreputable aspersions from You Know Who(*).

Plea

There's an old saw that says "Cold Hands, Warm Heart."
Let's strip our gloves off, then, and make a start.
With fingers blue with cold, my frozen mitts
would wind their way around your warmer bits!
As sometimes happens push will come to shove
so "Hand In Glove" sometimes tries "HandInG Love."
If your cold heart forgives that awesome pun -
I'll doff my Freudian Slip and we'll have FUN!

(*) Caddoc Trellis, who else?

A Freudian Slip

When Ada went off shopping
in Llandudno one fine day,
what did she come back with,
but new underwear. Ole!

'A slip' she called this garment.
It was silky, soft and see through
with naughty matching knickers,
trimmed with dainty frou-frou.

At first, I thought she mentioned
she had bought it for her lover
then realised, with Freudian slip,
she'd actually said 'Mother'!



At this point, I feel I should add some information that was recently brought to my notice by a fellow Blogger,
as I wonder whether Ada has read it too...

Frequent Sex Linked With Good Health
The first comprehensive national survey of sexual attitudes, behaviors and problems among older adults in the United States has found that most people ages 57 to 85 think of sexuality as an important part of life and that the frequency of sexual activity, for those who are active, declines only slightly from the 50s to the early 70s.

P.S. Please remember, where USA leads, UK often tends to follow...

Festive Poetry Bus Challenge December 27th.

Muse Swings asks blogpoets to commemorate the most useless (etc) gift they ever received  . .  or gave.

Christmas Unwrapped by Ada Trellis

What's a young gal like me supposed to do

with artificial knee joints? One or two

I just about could understand - put by

as hostages to fortune. Cracked, creaking, dry,

my own knees, crumbling from too much pole-dancing

might one day need some serious enhancing.

But THREE?  I ask you! Tesco, can it be

you're offering a "Buy Two Get One Free"

on hip replacements, knuckles, sundry parts?

Soon you'll be stocking artificial hearts

along with DIY instruction kits,
translated from Chinese -

                                             behind your t*ts
hear bleatings of your harts. Cut quick. Cut deep.

Do not attempt lepracement while you sleep.

Not shootable for infants under sex.

We are not riable if you end up wrecks."

Caddoc's behind this gift!  Soft in the head!

I gave my silly man a Garden Shed,

and to make sure he stayed in there alone,

threw in an Entry Level Saxophone.

Now we can swap our tales of Festive Gifts

and hope our giggles make an end to rifts.


Note to Ada from Cad: I had a quiet word with Trellissimo, and he let me in the back door of your post, as you might say, in order for me to explain my thinking as regards the unusual gift! Sometimes a chap does need to chime in, in the hopes of ringing your bell...
Caddoc Claims His Right To Reply! 

Have you not heard the old refrain

"Knees Up Mother Brown?"

The third knee, dearest, is to use

to stop you falling down!

When the other two are in the air,

the third will keep you steady.

Shall I carve a wooden leg

with knee joint in already?

You could use it like a walking stick

and always keep it handy -

especially if it's hollow,

and could be filled up with brandy!

On a Theory of Boat-Rocking

Do you count your Christmas Cards?  The ones you get as well as the ones you send? Do you notice, as Caddoc and I do, that these two numbers are regularly more or less equal? At our first Christmas together, before the rot set in, we sent almost 80 and had 79 back, though some of these arrived well into the New Year.  As our enthusiasm for Christmas and various other pastimes declined, our card list shortened until last year, we sent only 8 and were happy to receive 7 in return and one marked "Deceased." Could there be an important piece of Sociological Research in these observations? I can see it written up  in some Learned Society journal.  "Trellis,A. BA. and Trellis,C. CA.  'Observations on Long-Term Regressive Flux Equivalences in Annual Quasi-Religious Missive Transactions'" or somesuch academic babble.  Much the same theory, I imagine, applies to bloggers, their followers and the comments they get.  A blog with 1000 followers will regularly get (say) 80 to 100 comments. Such bloggers presumably spend or waste their time circulating blogland, sticking their names to two or three hundred follower lists thus ensuring that other bloggers will return the favour and everyones' comments lists will satisfactorily grow.  The relationship - followers to comments - probably won't be one-to-one as it is with Christmas cards, but I'd bet evens that the ratio is pretty constant.  It could turn out to be an important Sociological Coefficient, a reliable indicator of a world-wide-web propensity for mutual sycophancy. I mean, when did you last see a derogatory or even a mildly critical comment?  (Oh, THAT'S what this "after blog owner approval' is all about!  Silly Me!)

Poetry Bus Challenge. 20th. December.

We have a simple single word prompt from the Weaver of Grass this week . . STAR

BINARY

"I am Caddoc's dark star,

encircling him with ponderous

gravity . . . "

"Behind her back I call her

my White Dwarf. Huge. Hugely dense

each thimbleful weighs tons . . . "

"We two are bound as one.

Paired binaries, inseparable.

On our collision course."

"I eclipse her and she, me.

Virgo and Capricorn locked

in heavenly combat."

"Unchangeable as physic's laws

we would not, could not change

our gruesome orbits."

"We have peered too long

through our telescopes' wrong ends.

Together we must admit . ."

" . . the background hiss of the space

between us, and there perhaps explore

the kiss of background love."

Lingering Thoughts

After The Bus!

A Bus might do for poems

but where presents are concerned
it's Santa's Sleigh that counts the most,
it needs no three point turns.
It navigates the airways
far better than a plane,
and hovers over chimneys,

come wind, or snow, or rain.

Santa's  rotund figure
still manages to squeeze
through chimney pots or CH vents
because he aims to please
the lucky children, snug in bed,
who close their eyes and snooze,
while Santa gobbles up mincepies
and, here and there, some booze.


For somtimes on the mantlepiece
a little glass of sherry
waits patiently for Santa
to make sure he stays merry
and full of cheer at Christmas time,
instead of getting narked
with spending half of Christmas Eve
a-fumbling in the dark.

Beep! Beep!

So, this is what ADA does when my back is turned... She either thumbs rides with a shaggy dog, or chases a  
Poetry Bus!


To Ada's little diatribe,
I'd like to add my voice -
I'd really like to share her ride,
(I promise, minus mice!)
But just for now I'm hiding out
back in the potting shed...
I think she's once more wanting
to cuff me round my head...

So if I have to buy my own ticket, here goes...

Warning to Dodgy Doggy Drivers

There was a young dog from Ashdown
who drove a car all around town.
But he started to cuss
when he hit a red bus
which caused him to have a breakdown.

Poetry Bus. 13th. December.

Perceptive readers will  no doubt recognise this misquote from Dr. Samuel Johnson.

"Sir, a dog driving is like another walking on his hind legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all."

Which strikes me as an appropriate lead in to my application for a ticket on Titus's bus.This picture is one of his/hers or hers/his dog's prompts.

My dog can drive a Chevrolet
the way some poets write.
The neighbours say, "He's awesome"
They surely mean he's s**te?

The Central Reservation
he thinks is sooooooooo poetic,
like centered text that's driven by
their versified emetic.

He could not pass the Driving Test.
He never found the time
to learn even the simplest rules
like metre, image, rhyme.

As their ramblings wander down the page
he wobbles side to side
But he knows not moderation.
(though there's much that he should hide.)

He does not seek approval,
greets comment with a yelp.
Dogs that drive, like awesome poets
are beyond all hope, all help.

Mal Teasers?

No - Maltesers! Though Ada can be a bit of a tease at times. You see, this weekend, rather than having after dinner mints on the menu, Beloved decided to ring the changes, and bought MALTESERS instead.

This break with tradition, lead to an interesting conversation, especially after I discovered a way of silencing Ada's lips, like so.

I then posed the question - which I would like you all to ponder with great seriousness - if you had to choose which part of a Malteser to be, would you be the crunchy, honeycomb centre, or the spherical, chocolate shell? No prizes for guessing which option Beloved Ada went for, but what about you, Blog hopping visitors?