Speccie Sickly Sweet by 15th August
 

Chris O'Carroll, Martin Parker and Max Ross bat for us this week. You are one of us, Max, are you not? For personal reasons (my first, rapidly discarded, career choice was to be a thespian which may explain much about my output.) I was particularly attracted to Martin's entry.

This week's competition will have you all scribbling away. And me too.


NO. 2760: sickly sweet
You are invited to supply an example of the kind of treacly inspirational poetry that adorns the office walls of life coaches and might be quoted by motivational speakers (16 lines maximum). Please email entries, wherever possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 15 August.

Nobody's tried this one which means it must be difficult. Ergo you don't have to be good to win. So how about this one. I don't know how Boris got in there but he did. Is 'you's' OK as a plural? It looks terrible.

Follow Your Heart

Follow your secret heart and true
Success will surely find you.
Pursue the you that's really you.
Leave other you's behind you.

The you that's true is fresh and new,
Simpatico and shary,
Fit, like a made-to-measure shoe,
For life's itinerary.

Trust in your soul to reach your goal.
Do all the stuff you gotta.
Don't droop in darkness like a mole,
But glisten like an otter.

Who dares to care and dares to dream
Ascends the golden ladder.
Amazing grace will bless your team
And make your spirits gladder.

YOU

There's no one with more love than you,
more talent, humor, grace,
accomplishment or leadership.
You don't just take up space.

And when you die, at Heaven's Gate
the happy news will spread.
Saint Peter, when he welcomes you,
will say, "So glad you're dead!"

YOU

The world begins with you.
And what you see, you own.
And you alone are true.
But you are not alone

Welcome, Roger. Come on, the rest of you. Surely ty's not so hard to be bad poets. Good Lord, it's as easy as falling off a .... oh I don't know.

My Pretty, My Poopsie, My Pet

(Pep poetry at a Beauty School)

The you that's buried deep within
is so much more than collagen
or botox or a lipo-sux
(even for a zillion bux).
You're beautiful, you're smart, you're cool.
You're smarter than any petty school.
The world's is just not ready yet,
for you my pretty, my poopsie, my pet.
Just stare at that mirror and repeat:
I'm wonderful, sunnerful, and honey sweet.
I'll sell my sweat and my moxie and sass.
The peasants will beat down my door for a glass.
Oh, it's too too much just being me!
I can't stand it--so much reality!

As easy as falling off a poopsie.

... as easy as falling off a logorrhoea?

You can become a better, kinder person,
Remake yourself, and take yourself in hand;
As everyone around you seems to worsen,
You’ll be a shining beacon in the land.

Ignore the fool, the mocker and the jiber,
The self-deceived, still living in the dark.
Think positive. Stoke up on moral fibre,
The muesli of the soul. Sing like a lark.

Our little book, the fruit of loving labours,
Entitled “Self-Improvement, Head to Feet”,
Will have you smiling kindly at your neighbours
And helping poor old ladies cross the street.

You’ll find yourself more thoughtful and observant,
And when at last you meet the Great Recorder
He’ll say, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant!”
(Just twenty pounds, by cheque or postal order.)

Now which one is the mad pace-setter, the one lurking strategically in the middle of the pack, or the dark horse as yet bringing up the rear?

Anything stars can do, you can improve on!
Hear the crowd roar as your legs get a move on!,
Win the Heptathlon with abs like an Ennis,
Whitewash Serena or Venus at tennis,
Swim so much faster than Michael or Missy,
Ride so you make Sir Chris Hoy seem a sissy!


Never despair if in moments of blueness
Doubt should creep in of your wonderful you-ness.
Life is no game for the quitter and crawler,
Tuck in your tummy, look two inches taller;
Only the wimps and the preeners and poncers,
Let down themselves and their corporate sponsors!

Lastly, avoid tales of torment in training,
Forced to plough on with your hamstrings complaining;
Lady Luck favours those full of guts, dash and brio -
Keep that in mind as you roll down to Rio!

All this inspirational stuff is becoming a bit too much for me.

I should improve my body, learn to think ...
On second thoughts, I'll have another drink.

Jerome, that might be too good. Brian, that is inspirationally ghastly.

How Did I Not Notice This Board First?
 

How's this?

Oh Give Me But Love

Oh give me but love -
You can have all the rest.
Take money, take mansions,
I’VE got the best.

I can live without income
I can live without hope
With your love inside me
I can live without DOPE

Although, with the dope
It would be even hotter;
We could live with our love
And no CLOTHES, FOOD or WATER

And though we might not
Live as long as the queen
Its as she at the end
I’ll as HAPPY have been.

Lionhearted

The lion asked his mother why
The stars, the sun, the moon, the sky,
Existed, and she said, "For you!
The Universe is yours. It's true.
The Universe that poets sing of
Is but the jungle you are king of."

Are all of us not lions then?
Is not the Universe our den?
Do I not hold within my paw
The pen to write my own life's law?
And do I not in every growl
Roar forth more wisdom than an owl?

Although I lack both fur and mane,
No less than lions do I reign.
Were you too born a lion cub?
Rise up, I say, and join the club!

Don't Be a Turtle!

You're wonderful. You're glorious.
You're talented as well.
But do not be a turtle who
is hidden in his shell

and even when he shows his face
and lets his feet pop out
stays mostly in his carapace
and slowly moves about

thinking he is daring, brave,
and therefore cannot fail
because at least he's moving faster
than the sluggish snail.

So shed your stiff integument
and leave your narrow coop
unless you aim to wind up as
a bowl of turtle soup.

Thank you, John. I had trouble keeping my lunch down while writing it, which must be a good sign.

The Jock's Version
(Seen on the gym walls)

Stick it to 'em buddy! You are the stud!
Rock 'em and knock 'em and sock'em in the mud.
Your body's stroked and bored like steel.
Ennis the Menace? Listen to her squeal
as you go strutting round the track.
The power, the sheer power in your back

could lift the Euro to a decent height.
Oil up your limbs, so the silver light
will love on your thighs, your whole torso.
Think Brad Pitt-ish, only moreso.
They just don't make 'em like you anymore.
You're an Atlas, shouldering every shore

from Khartoum to Nice to New York to Bali.
You're a god and every poor sod says "Golly!"
when you spare a word or let him kiss your ring.
You're le roi, der Konig, the ever-fabled king.

Feel like I robbed the candy store and me old mom made me eat every bit.

From a "bad poem contest" a few years back:


LOVE, I SAY

Love, I say, is like a flame,
but when hate's water splashes,
love keeps burning just the same
and does not turn to ashes.

Love, I say, is like a knife,
but there's no need to hone it.
It will last throughout your life,
if that's how long you own it.

Love, I say, is like a stone,
but softer than a feather.
It's hard to lift love all alone
but not that hard hard together.

No, no, Roger. That's not bad at all. Try harder feller. Do worse. Hone up your Ella Wheeler Wilcox. Polish your Patience Strong. We want that Shadwell sound.

Others to some faint meaning make pretence.
But Shadwell never deviates into sense.

Lessons are where you find them



“Translate into Japanese: . . . Cats die in water . . . Snowy days are cold. “ - Teach Yourself Japanese (EUP 1958) by C.J. Dunn and S.Yanada, pps 22 & 32, exs 5 & 11, nos 12 & 11.


Listen, little daughter,
To these words of gold.
Cats die in water,
Snowy days are cold.

Worth their weight in dollars
Yanada and Dunn
Teach your fellow-scholars
Wisdom dearly won.

Always wear your mittens,
When the weather’s cool;
Never let the kittens
Go too near the pool.

Oh, as days grow shorter,
Remember you’ve been told
Cats die in water,
Snowy days are cold.

Lovely, Jerome. Write it on my tomb.

Thanks, John, though I'm not sure it's thickly and thweet enough to fulfil the rubric.

Messrs Dunn and Yanada's remarkable work seemed a little fluid-obsessed, also observing that 'In the sea there is water' and a page later 'There is water in rivers too.' Much potential peril for felines over there, it seems.

They claimed that if you got to Lesson 30 and read through it and its accompanying conversation 'you should be equipped with what you need for maintaining a comversation on any non-technical subject.'

I never got beyond Lesson 3, but have retained the ability to come out with phrases like 'There's a cat over there, isn't there?' in reasonably authentic tones, much to the shock of any accompanying Japanese friends or students, so perhaps there was method in their madness. Mind you, the cat (or dog or pigeon) has to be at the right angle and distance, not always easy to arrange.

this is off the self-help topic, but I can't resist putting it in:

To my muse

"An example of [sentimentality] might be a poem in which an excess of emotion is lavished on a floor lamp." — Ted Kooser

O lamp, you shed your light
on every word I write.
Even in darkest night
you are so calm and bright
I never need the sun
when the long day is done.
Whether incandescent
or compact fluorescent
you stand there on the floor
as out my soul I pour
into verses galore.
Looking over my shoulder
you make my hand grow bolder.
With you, my muse electric,
my writing pace turns hectic,
my poems begin to smoulder
and soon burst into flame,
like this ode to your name.
May it bring you fame
till all the world, O lamp,
knows that you're the champ!

Who's Ted Kooser & what's he got against floor lamps?

Priorities

If every hope you ever had
were stacked to make a tower
and you could climb on top of it
and thereby gain the power

to turn them into facts and deeds,
command them from above,
you would not find fulfillment if
you never hoped for love.

But if you stay down on the ground
and all your hopes but one
crumble, but that hope is love,
you life's work shall be done.

Stiff Upper Lip

Keep a stiff upper lip
when your head's in a noose,
for someday you'll drop
and your lip will be loose.

Till then, I'd advise you:
don't stagger or trip.
As long as you can,
keep a stiff upper lip.

'Priorities' is absolutely sickening, Roger. Well done!

Roger, you could make a fortune with Priorities. Print it in silver on navy cardboard, glue on some sparkly tinsel. You could quit your day job.

John is right. It is absolutely sickening and worthy of the master of the caustic quill.

I think the Stiff Upper Lip one might find a home at a light verse venue.

My Mother, when I was but three,
Said 'If you act proactively
You're certain to self actualise.'
And lo! weeks later, I turned five.

Yes, Roger, that is pretty sickening. But I can't help feeling that no one has as yet fully tapped that literary vein whose emetic effect would be comparable to swallowing a bit of bacon rind tied to a piece of string, and then pulling it up by the string.

OK, Brian, I have taken your challenge and gone for the bacon, though I'm not sure the string will hold:

The Journey

Follow your heart where it leads you.
Always be open and caring.
Be there when somebody needs you.
Be modest, yet also be daring.
Stand up and give your opinion.
Sit when you've nothing to say.
Lead, and be nobody's minion.
Tomorrow begins with today.
Always know truth is the master
Yet truth is your heart, so pursue
The passions that make it beat faster.
Your soul's destination is you.
And though on the day that you get there,
if you have the pluck to arrive,
the sun of your brief life will set there,
you'll know you were truly alive!

Ah, now that one is starting to provoke the gag reflex!

Not Just Bacon, The Whole Pig!

Never only take a bite.
Consume the whole darn thing.
Don't just have a point. Be right!
Why hum when you can sing?
Do not walk when you can run.
If you have wings, then fly!
Be the bullet, not the gun.
Succeed, don't merely try!
Do not tap your foot, but dance!
Complete what you have started.
It's better to have pooed your pants
Than never to have farted.

The journey gags me wonderfully. The whole pig makes me laugh out loud, you don't want that. (OK, I am going to shut up, this isn't my turf, I am just an idle bystander.)

Roger, Janice is right, the whole darn pig made me laugh! Personally, I prefer laughing to gagging, but who knows in which direction Lucy's tastes may run?

And Janice, don't worry about turf:

"They also serve who only stand and laugh"

Thanks. I'm not sure which way the judging will go. After all, this is supposed to be a humor contest, no? There are more ways to parody motivational advice than simply to take it over the top.

Pearls

Sometimes when you're weary
it is hard to keep a cheery
disposition and you find you
need a good friend to remind you
as your eyes grow moist and moister
that the world remains your oyster!

Actually, I should shorten that:

Pearls

Though you sob and your eyes grow moister,
the world remains your oyster.

I wooed a lovely standard lamp,
So elegant, so sexy;
Her fuse a mighty 15-amp,
Her cable long and flexy.
For many months her gorgeous glow
Lit up my lonely life,
Until the day I courted woe
By pleading 'Be my wife'.
She almost broke her bulb at that,
So loudly did she sneer
'What! Marry you, a balding, fat
Old dork? Get outa here!'
That ended it. But still I weep
To think the light that shone
And woke a love that slept so deep
Is gone, is gone, is gone...

Funny. Maybe change "What?" to "Watt?" Well, maybe not.

Oh, Basil, that is so sad ... sniff, sniff ... I'm reaching for the Kleenex ... Damn! That's the one I'd already used to pick up the doggy-poo.