
Convinced my friend was now a mime
Marcel did not deny it
More so, he has been for some time
I thought… you’ve kept THAT quiet!
Convinced my friend was now a mime
Marcel did not deny it
More so, he has been for some time
I thought… you’ve kept THAT quiet!
The budding poet soon suspects
The pointlessness of: Solve for x
Batman sports a special cowl
He fashioned from titanium
Spider-Man prefers to prowl
In something called vibranium.
Dad’s a cop whose navy blue
And shield reflect his heart
Granddad fought through World War 2
In boots that fell apart.
Wonder Woman’s golden lasso
Makes folk tell the truth
It’s the way your mother asks you
Which makes her a sleuth.
Superpowers lie within
The clothes don’t make the man
Thor just needs a rolling pin
It’s true
Just ask your gran
Is beer served at Oktoberfest
So different from all the rest?
For, I would like to know what goes in
To make dudes wear lederhosen
Bananas look like boomerangs
But if you’re tempted, call a halt
For, if you don’t quite get the hang
The cops will charge you with assault
“Have you been following events in The Ukraine?”
“John, we no longer call it that.”
“No longer call what what?”
“We no longer call it The Ukraine.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We just say Ukraine now; they’ve dropped the The,” Laverne gave me the lowdown.
“Who did?”
“The Ukrainians.”
“Don’t you mean Ukrainians?”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said The Ukrainians.”
“Oh, for God’s sake…”
“Why is it I’m only hearing about this now?”
“Try spending less time on TikTok.”
“I enjoy watching eco-tourists run for their lives.”
“Fair enough,” Laverne shrugged.
“So, when did they ditch the The?”
“I believe it was around the same time Kentucky Fried Chicken rebranded as KFC.”
“Do you think their KFCs serve Chicken Kiev?”
“We don’t say that either.”
“What? Chicken?”
“No, Kiev.”
“You’re kidding.”
“We now pronounce it Kyiv, like Steve.”
“Who the hell cares how he says it?”
“Who?”
“Steve Downey.”
“Please tell me you didn’t just say that.”
“And how would the Downeys know Ukrainian anyway? They’re a bunch of redheads.”
“Sweetie, I want you to stop talking,” Laverne took my hand. “This is all the result of transliteration.”
“I thought their flag was pink, blue and white.”
“In the past we had a habit of anglicising names which proved tricky to pronounce and no one really questioned it. Now there’s a bit of a reset happening, that’s all.”
“My stress levels go through the roof every time I have to say anemone.”
“When did you last need to say anemone?”
“Forty-five minutes ago.”
“I’m talking about foreign names.”
“Brunhilde.”
“Place names.”
“Melbourne.”
“More foreign than that.”
“Machu Picchu.”
“It’s Bombay becoming Mumbai and Calcutta becoming Kolkata, that sort of thing,” Laverne clarified.
“We weren’t that far off on those two,” I felt I ought to give credit where credit was due.
“My issue isn’t with the consonants so much, as the bloody diphthongs.”
“Your Vietnamese neighbours? What have they done now?”
“Stop it,” Laverne giggled. “Hey, did you know that Kanye’s changed his name as well? Apparently he now goes by Ye. My son told me.”
“Ye?”
“Yup.”
“Maybe it’s short for Yeuch.”
“Or Yikes.”
“I still fail to see the significance.”
“Well, according to Ye himself, ye is the most common word in The Bible.”
“Blessed be the fruit.”
“Oh, there’s more… Ye then enlightened us further by explaining that ye can sometimes mean thee.”
“Which Ukrainians have dropped like a hot potato,” I reminded my friend.
“They dropped a the, not a thee.”
“Be that as it may, I think Ye will find that the most common word in The Bible is, in fact, the.”
“So we’ve circled back on ourselves,” Laverne groaned. “How do we bring this to an end?
“Here’s a crazy idea: add a the.”
The End
The critics ask from time to time
Do all your poems have to rhyme?
If not the case, my esteemed friends
How would I know when each one ends?
It’s taken a lifetime to get here but it’s been worth it; I’ve published my first book of poems.
I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.
Here’s a review by Light Poetry Magazine in Chicago:
lightpoetrymagazine.com/book-reviews-summer-22/
You can find It Started When You Farted: Witty Rhymes for Playful Minds on Amazon.
All proceeds from its sale will go to support Teenage Cancer Trust UK.
Thank you for your support.
Several years ago while travelling around Ukraine I entered the only shop in a remote village to buy a couple of cold drinks. Placing my purchases on the counter, the elderly shopkeeper tallied my bill on an abacus then pushed it toward me. Not entirely up to speed on ancient counting tools which predate our own numeral system, I played it safe and handed him the equivalent of $5 in Ukrainian money. This, apparently, posed a problem and he asked if I had anything smaller. I replied, regrettably, that I did not. Thinking on it, he disappeared into the back before returning with a duckling which he duly handed over as my change.
The problem with holiday brochures is that they rarely cover an abacus/duck scenario. The pictures in them are enticing but the language is, at best, euphemistic and at worst, a flat out lie. And while it’s true that every situation can’t be covered, a bit of a heads-up regarding waterfowl as legal tender would go a long way for novices like moi.
Here then, is a list of terms from holiday brochures with their true meanings:
in-flight meal: UN ration with complimentary poppadom
in-flight entertainment: the sequel to the remake of the original, only this one’s set in the future where everyone can fly and stuff
short transfer to hotel: bring earplugs
car rental: how are you at changing a tire?
bus service: you may be seated next to a goat in labour
local delicacies: if we can catch it, we’ll cook it
chef’s special: cake with a fly on top
all-inclusive resort: venture off the property and odds are you’ll be kidnapped
in-house entertainment: an old man who takes out his artificial eye for the kids
cultural sensitivities: lose the Trump hat
conservative: lose the rainbow flag beach towel
stunning wildlife: pack an anti-venom kit
365 days of sunshine: no redheads
steeped in history: if they ask, tell them you’re Canadian
friendly locals: the waiter has just asked if he can marry your daughter
vibrant nightlife: gunfire
local amenities: you’re sharing a well with two other villages
stunning scenery: ignore the oil refinery
exotic spices: stick to ketchup
unspoiled wilderness: don’t go in unarmed
tranquil setting: abandoned due to an ebola outbreak
health clinic: the vet will see you now
museum exhibits: those artefacts our country forgot to cart off when we left sharpish 150 years ago
I’m Mr Ormsby and thank you very much for dropping by.
Each of us has our own guilty pleasures: Chocolate Blackout Cake, slot machines, staying in our pajamas all day, seeing a stranger walk into a lamp post, etc.
Mine is words. Whether I’m at work or walking the dog, words are constantly ricocheting around my brain. For example, whilst writing this I’ve been wondering what the word is for that little piece of plastic on the end of shoelaces.
[for what it’s worth, it’s an aglet]
Sometimes I like to chew words and blow bubbles with them. Other times, I’ll painstakingly place the little so-and-sos in regimented rows where they’re not allowed to move until given the order. Most days, however, I rely on words as ammunition in a world where I’m increasingly expected to explain my actions to others. And I must admit that it’s during these encounters when, for me, the fun begins. This is especially true when the occasion calls for returning swimwear without the receipt or spicing up one’s court testimony.
And so, this blog.
However before we continue any further, some context…
I recently started teaching in a new school where it has been pointed out to me, more than once, that I have replaced a very popular member of staff who left “before he was ready to go” (I don’t even want to know). This, now I’m only guessing here, might explain the slights I received in the form of gifts from my Secret Santa: a Yankee candle (they’re fully aware I’m Canadian), a voucher for 10 free tanning sessions (I’m ginger) and Maltesers (choking hazard). It’s the anonymity which is the appeal of Secret Santa, but if I had to wager money on it I’d ascribe these unpleasant undertones to Jerry, our racist librarian.
Needless to say, I now keep the small talk to a minimum when checking out books.
In my blog you’ll find humorous poetry, vignettes, characters and outrageous word play along with the odd sober moment. And you can join me in my quest for the perfect rhyme because to me, and you purists are going to hate this, poetry needs to rhyme. Well, mine does anyway. I mean, could it be worse reading free verse?
See what I just did there?
(they hate that)
In any case, Dear Reader, I hope I make you laugh ’til you fart.
Mr Ormsby
P.S. Here’s an online interview with yours truly, if you’d like to know more:
March 19th, 2021
Bio:
I grew up in Toronto where upon graduating university I landed a job as a copy editor for a legal publisher. The work was poorly paid and mind-numbingly forensic with no room whatsoever for any creativity; we were basically word accountants. Upping sticks, I moved to the UK where I’ve ended up teaching high school. It can be a tough gig some days but the kids are insanely creative and there are always lots of opportunities for laughs with them. Often what I hear during the day inspires my writing.
What is your greatest accomplishment as a writer so far?
My greatest accomplishment to date would be starting my blog and sticking at it. I wrote loads when I was a kid, edited the newspaper at university and almost went into journalism so writing’s definitely in the DNA. And then finally, I got off the pot and started my blog. To date, I’ve posted a collection one publisher has called ‘eclectic’- it’s a mixture of humour, horror, poetry, prose, essays and opinions – which has attracted an equally eclectic readership. I’m proud of my efforts and honoured that others consider it worth reading.
Why do you write?
I guess I’ve got lots to say. Sadly, few of us are gifted orators and writing offers me the chance to get my points across without being interrupted. I’m not a very brave sort but when I write I become a superhero who’s unafraid to pull out the creative big guns and tackle anything. I use different styles and voices I wouldn’t normally get away with at home or at work; it’s very liberating being a homicidal demon one moment, then a camp Martian in hot pants the next.
What is your writing process? (Any favorite places to write? Any interesting quirks, traditions, or rituals you may have? How many times might you revise something before being satisfied with it? Besides you, does anyone else edit your work? etc.)
I’m writing this on a laptop with my dog snoring next to me on the sofa. Years ago I used to rise early at weekends and write until noon, after which I spent the rest of the day making revisions. These days, however, I can write day or night. I’ll often write and then take the dog for a walk so I can mull it over without seeing it. Usually by the time we’ve returned home I’ve ‘pictured’ what I need to do and make the necessary changes. And I revise constantly, often searching days for the right word until I find it. It sounds tedious but not for me because I love hunting them down, day and night. For me, constant editing is essential because I rarely do anything right the first time.
Do you have anyone (friends, relatives, etc.) review your works before you publish them?
As more friends read my blog they’re becoming braver with their criticisms which is invaluable when it comes from those you trust. They’re catching everything from typos to non sequiturs which is surprising because a lot of them were raised outdoors.
Could you give us an idea of your upcoming works without spoiling anything?
My blog contains the prologue of The Abomination which revolves around the First Nation peoples of Canada, the Church and a lot of cultural rituals we perform without knowing it. It’s a thriller and I’ve written about half of it so far. Right now I need to kill a character to further the plot and I can’t bring myself to do it. I would have made a terrible vet.
What do you hope to achieve as a writer?
I would like every one of my students to have to read my work and then sit a three-hour exam on it. That would be poetic justice after having had to read all of their stuff over the years. Other than that, like most authors I simply wish to become widely-read because I’m not writing a diary. That’s it, really.
What advice do you have for novice writers?
Write about what you know and research what you don’t know before writing about that. And don’t be intimidated because someone’s already covered what you were going to write about – what you have to say may spin the whole thing on its head. In this life, we have few opportunities to break rules without ending up before a judge; writing has no rules except those you impose upon yourself, so impose as few as possible and go for it.
What do you feel are the most important resources a writer can use?
Honesty: draw ideas from all around but don’t take what doesn’t belong to you.
A decent vocabulary (or a thesaurus): make every word count because the readers deserve it.