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I actually enjoyed last night on the LC newsgroup (older readers will recall it) when I saw Jack's post asking for comments on his glittery, gold, niecey thingy. After I told him the (near) truth I decided to give him a replacement for the verse I most disliked, the one that went
"My niece cautioned me
all that glitters isn't gold
I said that's a consolation
for one like me growing old".



and it came out like this


My sister's daughter
Said to me
"Uncle Jack,
I'm on your knee
Testing relativity

You're my mum's bro
And you're getting old
It's my duty
If I may be bold
To tell ya' this
Before
You're cold

All that glitter,
That ain't gold
Just life's trinkets
Still unsold"



Pot noodle poetry but fun. then it turned out Jack's niece was with him as we were bantering and here was my instant gift for them, Pot Noodle Poetry Part 2


Pour Oncle Jacques et Leah, son neice


It's Nice with my Niece in Nice


In the South of France
They held a dance
Uncle Jack went there
For 40 days
He rowed his boat
I just went by air



He went alone
A mobile phone
And a pair of briefs
He'd pack
His shorts were pink
His t-shirt black
He's cool
My Uncle Jack



Les Dames, they ooohe'd
Les Dames, they aaahe'd
They loved him front and back
(mais a Gay Paree
He'd be très 'appy
Avec les garcons dans le sac)

au revoir and all that jazz...

michelle

Michael, it's great to see you back around on here with your humorous way of crushing people's ditties. Jack is clearly speechless.

Diane

Diane wrote:Michael, it's great to see you back around on here with your humorous way of crushing people's ditties. Jack is clearly speechless.

Diane

Hi Diane, thanks for the welcome back for what will be but a short nostalgia trip.

Jack posted on the Newsgroup with a title "hey, Greg what do you think of my poem?". So I dashed round to my local solicitor, changed my name to Greg and replied that I thought very little of it. But you will never guess what, and I shall proceed within the safety of brackets to prevent you from dying laughing, (I forget to change my posting name to Greg and so it says Michael!!), (so that's £200 wasted, bloody lawyers).

Then I found the NG thread was but a transplant from forum form.

What really interested me was a complete lack of rhythm in the writing. I wondered if it was the same as being tone-deaf. If you read, and more importantly if Jack had read back that verse

"My niece cautioned me
all that glitters isn't gold
I said that's a consolation
for one like me growing old".


don't the extra syllables scream out, begging for a mercy execution.

Now we have never met, Diane, (I am perhaps sure I would probably remember possibly if we had maybe) but if we did meet one day and you saw me try to clap in time or, worse still, dance in time, or any physical activity you would understand my curiosity about those who have no rhythm.

regards

michael

Hi Greg,

Yeah, pity about those bloody lawyers.

I don't know about the technicalities of pomes, but I do vaguely recall reading something about rhythm when I researched a little before entering a poetry comp you ran a while ago (when you were Michael). Makes a lot of sense I must say. I hope Jack finds his interaction with you to be a learning experience. I'm sure I would indeed find it an education if I ever did meet you and watched you try to do something in time.

a short nostalgia trip

Have you left this place too, then? Why is that? Is there a better party somewhere else?

regards,

Diane

Diane wrote: I'm sure I would indeed find it an education if I ever did meet you and watched you try to do something in time.

a short nostalgia trip

Have you left this place too, then? Why is that? Is there a better party somewhere else?

regards,

Diane

well, I suppose, given time, I can do anything.

apparently there is a party in Wales which is meant to be hot hot hot