Poetry Tree |
B is for Being a Creative Type
April A-Z Challenge
Scotto went to a business meeting in a café up here on the mountain last week and was both alarmed and baffled when random people kept standing up in the café and reciting poetry in loud, dramatic voices.
“Then somebody stood up and played a kazoo before launching into a full on rendition of “My Heart Will Go On”, he said, with an expression of bewilderment on his face. “I didn’t know what was going on.”
I laughed my head off when he told me but then I read in the local rag it was all in the name of the “Five Senses” Culture Festival which was being launched on the mountain.
Naturally, Pinky immediately set about nutting out a way she too could be part of it this groundswell of creativity.
There’s a poetry tree in the village library where you can display a poem you’ve written so today I took one of my most brilliant, evocative pieces in to be included.
Unfortunately, all the other poems were very short (like limericks really) and mine was quite long (think John Milton’s Paradise Lost). Everybody else’s poems were creatively fashioned into lanterns and stuff and all I’d done was ask Scotto to add some fancy flowery decorations on the border of an A4 sheet.
The (really lovely) librarian said she’d have to pin my poem up because it wasn’t suitable for the poetry tree.
I bet she chucked it in the bin the second I left. Not that I’d blame her.
I’d been hoping to garner some creative cred from the locals and perhaps even be haphazardly ‘discovered’ by a discerning literary critic who might be touring the area.
Yeah… nope.
Not likely now.
Why didn’t I think of writing my poem on a lantern?
I desperately want to be thought of as ‘arty’ and it was disappointing but I’ve come up with a possible solution.
Years ago, when we were on holidays, Scotto and I dropped into an Irish pub (not actually in Ireland) and we watched an Irish band performing all their tiddle-dee=dee shenanigans. After several pints of Guinness it struck us both that we should learn to play a violin and a tin whistle and form our own Irish band.
Scotto even bought a tin whistle on the Internet that very night.
We promptly forgot all about it but as I was unpacking during the recent move, I serendipitously came upon it. I’ve already taught myself to play Mary had a Little Lamb and Frere Jacque.
Pretty soon I reckon I’ll have some real Irish songs down pat; a bit of Father Kelly’s Reel or Morrison’s Jig!
I’ll get a gig at the local Irish restaurant on Saturday nights, just you wait. I’m sure the neighbours will appreciate it when I finally improve on my whistling too, especially the Labrador next door who loves to join in.
What’s your creative talent?
Scotto went to a business meeting in a café up here on the mountain last week and was both alarmed and baffled when random people kept standing up in the café and reciting poetry in loud, dramatic voices.
“Then somebody stood up and played a kazoo before launching into a full on rendition of “My Heart Will Go On”, he said, with an expression of bewilderment on his face. “I didn’t know what was going on.”
I laughed my head off when he told me but then I read in the local rag it was all in the name of the “Five Senses” Culture Festival which was being launched on the mountain.
Naturally, Pinky immediately set about nutting out a way she too could be part of it this groundswell of creativity.
There’s a poetry tree in the village library where you can display a poem you’ve written so today I took one of my most brilliant, evocative pieces in to be included.
Unfortunately, all the other poems were very short (like limericks really) and mine was quite long (think John Milton’s Paradise Lost). Everybody else’s poems were creatively fashioned into lanterns and stuff and all I’d done was ask Scotto to add some fancy flowery decorations on the border of an A4 sheet.
The (really lovely) librarian said she’d have to pin my poem up because it wasn’t suitable for the poetry tree.
I bet she chucked it in the bin the second I left. Not that I’d blame her.
I’d been hoping to garner some creative cred from the locals and perhaps even be haphazardly ‘discovered’ by a discerning literary critic who might be touring the area.
Yeah… nope.
Not likely now.
Why didn’t I think of writing my poem on a lantern?
I desperately want to be thought of as ‘arty’ and it was disappointing but I’ve come up with a possible solution.
Years ago, when we were on holidays, Scotto and I dropped into an Irish pub (not actually in Ireland) and we watched an Irish band performing all their tiddle-dee=dee shenanigans. After several pints of Guinness it struck us both that we should learn to play a violin and a tin whistle and form our own Irish band.
Scotto even bought a tin whistle on the Internet that very night.
We promptly forgot all about it but as I was unpacking during the recent move, I serendipitously came upon it. I’ve already taught myself to play Mary had a Little Lamb and Frere Jacque.
Pretty soon I reckon I’ll have some real Irish songs down pat; a bit of Father Kelly’s Reel or Morrison’s Jig!
I’ll get a gig at the local Irish restaurant on Saturday nights, just you wait. I’m sure the neighbours will appreciate it when I finally improve on my whistling too, especially the Labrador next door who loves to join in.
What’s your creative talent?