Posts Tagged ‘poem’

3 June

Oda Al Ibuprofino

farmacia sign image originally taken by manfry via flickr cc lisencedWhen you go into the admin part of this blog to write a post or make a new page or whatever, you’re informed if and where and when another site has ‘tagged’ or linked to the blog for some reason. I followed one such link, Oda Al Ibuprofino, to find that someone had translated my Ibuprofen praise poem into Spanish. I’m so chuffed that I’ve taken three ibuprofen to celebrate and reproduced the translation below. The original is here and the live version, at the February Wondermentalist, here. Hasta la vista, bambinos.

 

Prefiero el ibuprofeno

La vida es mucho más fácil con analgésicos eficaces.

El dolor sirve para decirle al cerebro:

¡Eh! Houston, tenemos un problema…

Pero una vez que el mensaje ha llegado, no hace falta repetirlo una y otra vez

¿Qué queremos? ¡Alerta Síntoma!

¿Cuándo la queremos? ¡Ahora!

Cuando ya estás harto, no tienes porqué seguir sufriendo.

Un pequeño plip y el ibuprofeno lo solucionará.

Lo intenté con aspirina, codeína y paracetamol.

Con solpadeína, co-codamol,con anadina y ultramol.

Me gustan todos ellos, de verdad, pero prefiero el ibuprofeno.

Hay otros antiinflamatorios no esteroideos y fármacos por ahí.

Los AINEs de hoy en día están por todas partes.

Está el naproxeno, el nabumeton y, por supuesto, la indometacina.

Todos tienen mucho que ofrecernos, pero prefiero el ibuprofeno.

Me encanta la manera en que el compuesto pega su lado impertinante.

La manera de bloquear la enzima que sintetiza la prostaglandina.

Bajando la fiebre, reduciendo la inflamación y el dolor de leve a moderado.

Sí, sé que no cura, ni previene en absoluto.

Pero hay que insistir que no produce retención anal.

Sé que no trata la causa, que la causa sigue ahí.

Pero te tiende una mando, el amigo de los cuidados paliativos.

Hace exactamente lo que esperas que diga, y que haciera si viniera en un bote

29 March

Eggs - the March audience poem

The audience chose Eggs. It wasn’t an easy choice but they made it. Beryl the Feral, aka Roz, put it together over the interval. Once again it was a thing of beauty, both to listen to and behold. At the time I thought it surpassed the previous month’s Pants poem – having typed it up though, to be brutally honest, I’m not sure…

 

And God said, Let there be eggs, sunny-side up.

Eggs from birds in touch with their inner Zen Hen

Hunpty Dumpty was an EGG!

Runny, just-right pacifier of soldiers

Are you game? Chicken?

Topless and runny you brighten my morning

Always rolling around on your wonderlust bike

What are you like? Egg! Take it and beat it, scramble and shred, crack it over my head

Hard-boiled hero, or soft touch

A jelly-fish with a golden heart

Egghead

Just a shell of my future self

Ova and ova and ova again

You’re a round all year round

Skyblue perfected in a feather bed

Pre or post chicken mystery

A snotty kinda consistency that wants to make you see; if you can eat it underdone you’re a better man than me.

Ovulating eggs, bursting forth

Hard-boiled, soft-boiled, sunny-side-up nog

Lying shell-shocked and broken on the floor

Vegans say it’s like eating menstruation

Eggs over easy, greasy, fried, you died to be resurrected as a quiche or bread and butter pie

It’s one chick less when the chips are down

Egg nog – legless

Egg, beg, borrow, feel – being a hen is no big deal

Egg, keg, melonbud, Blond emu, noble mud!

Eggs will rise, eggs will go, what came 1st, we will never know!?

Eggs eggs are good for you, the more you eat, the better you feel!!!

Vast granite egg, I want to wrap my arms around you

Mysterious, potential wild omelette?  Parbra? Child?

The egg. The big golden flashing glittering sparkly Cosmic egg in the Sky!

You can’t make a meringue without breaking lots of eggs

Egg – gooey, gloppy, golden garden of fertility

Most of us think eggs are round – like men whose heads are bald

But eggs are oblate spheroids so I’m told, so I’m told

 

Was your egg-line in there? Was your brilliant line wrongfully, woefully, absurdly left out to make way for another line, one inevitably less insightful and witty?

29 February

The Company of Leeks

This is the other other warm-up intro poem I promised to put up here. The Company of Leeks

leeksDown through the generations
We’ve been generating leeks
We’ve not won all the prizes
But we’ve had our winning streaks
Won enough to furnish houses –
We’ve had fewer troughs than peaks
In the company of leeks

Rosettes, I’ve had a few
And then some honourable mentions
To see a leek you, yourself, grew
Receiving plaudits and attentions…
When that leek in peak condition
Wins a Best Leek Competition
You feel so cock-a-hoop
It calls for cock-a-leekie soup
Although it isn’t Mum’s leek pudding
…It’ll do

For what is a leek – what is it like?
Let’s sneak a peek – let’s take a look…
A cylinder of bundled sheafs
Tortilla wrap of Welsh motifs
A spring onion on steroids
Upside down Olympic flame
Close relation of the onion
They are Garlic’s kissing cousin
They’re en eco-party-popper in freeze-frame
Or pagan Barbie
A little bit ineffable
A heavy metal daffodil
It makes me feels so affable
The company of leeks

So you can keep your Spanish beach
I’ll stay where leeks are within reach
The tasty part of vichyssoise…
And while the world around me sleeps
Beneath the undemanding stars
I’ll keep the company of leeks

27 February

The Amazing Memory Man’s Magical Memories

I read three poems for my warm-up intro on the 23rd. I’m going to put them all up, starting with the second…

The Amazing Memory Man’s Magical Memories

an unforgetful love poem

I remember the dress that you wore when we met
The dress with the dots – how could I forget
Two hundred and four – none exactly the same
I counted them all as you came through the door
…gave each one a name

We walked out together, beneath a lumpy grey sky
I see it so clearly now in my mind’s eye,
The pavement, the drizzle, the cars grumbling by…
Ford Mondeo, blue, N76 RBT
Toyota Corolla, white, C213 XPL
Citroen Picasso, red S79 YAE

You kissed me. I missed one. But I didn’t mind.
We were young. We had time.

The restaurant. We held hands. Once more we kissed.
And whispered sweet nothings - well, you did,
I whispered the whole set menu and wine list…
(And what’s really nice is:
I can still recite it, including the prices)

And then back to your place, your face stuck to my face
While my eyes memorised your cd’s
I noticed a book there beside the computer
The abridged Kama Sutra ‘for the hurried lover’
In two minutes, I’d read it – from cover to cover

You said, Hey do you seriously think that kind of thing can impress me?
And I closed the book, and my eyes, and said, Test me…