Teddy Bear's Trombone.

              Hello! How's the weather where you are? It was quite warm here yesterday, I think they said on the news it was the hottest day since the 9th of September last year. I guess today didn't want to steal its thunder as it's overcast and drizzly. 

              Anyway, seeing as we're done with The Following, I found myself at a bit of a loss as to what to write, so I wrote down a list of 5 people/characters, 5 places and 5 objects, and put them into three separate piles. I find that this is a really great way of getting some fun and unexpected short stories, often causing you to write in a different style/genre to whatever you're used to. It's also a really good way to get over writer's block. Anyway, you pick out one from each pile, so it ends up being like my Jeff and the Giant Apple post from a while ago, which began as 'a painted, an apple, and an abandoned castle.'
                I decided to pick them all out in their trilogies, so I may use the others in the future, but the first one I picked out happened to be 'a teddy bear, a shopping centre, and a trombone'. God only know where this is going.

http://www.sayitwithbears.co.uk/history/

               

A Sunday in the heart of May,

I took teddy to the shops to play,

His trombone made of finest gold,

He would not even let me hold,

The instrument when it was cold;

My teddy bear’s trombone.

He plays it every day and night,

He blows and blows with all his might,

He played today for just three hours,

No-one’s face had even soured,

They underestimated the power;

Of teddy bear’s trombone.

A woman spoke about her diet,

I didn’t notice it go quiet,

I turned around to see no bear,

There was a distinct void just there,

I couldn’t help but stop and stare,

There was no bear and no trombone.

It seemed that someone had stolen teddy,

And on my feet became unsteady,

I looked in every shop I saw,

Not just peering ‘round the door,

And then I saw upon the floor,

My teddy bear’s trombone.

‘Where has he gone?’ I asked myself,

And when I looked upon the shelf,

I saw my teddy sitting there!

Who would take a little bear,

And make him sit so high up there?

Leaving him with no trombone.

I took him down and brushed him off,

With little bits of purple cloth,

I took him to the pretzel stand,

And put a treat into his hand,

He played until he earned a grand,

On his shiny gold trombone.

http://www.kohnmusicstore.com/Trombones-student-intermediate-professionalmodels.htm

          So, that went in a far different direction than I expected it to, it also took me quite a while due to the strange rhyme scheme. I hope you enjoyed reading this, it was fun for me to write!
        The other combinations were 'a boat, a philanthropist and a boot', 'a refugee, a factory and an ice cream', and 'a sauna, a magician and a frisbee'. If you're inspired by any of these, or inspired to try your own, why not email me the results? My email is in my new 'Talk to Me' page at the top ^^^^ and I'll make another new page for featured posts!
            Okay, next week, there won't be any posts, as I am going abroad for a week, flying out at 7:30 am tomorrow morning, and flying back the following Saturday. I did manage to find a blogger app, so I may be able to post something general one day if I can get wifi, but there won't be anything fancy, and it'll be even more off schedule than normal.

                              Have a great couple of weeks! Until the next time,
                              take care and lots of love! Laura
                                                                      xoxoxoxox

Something Old...

         I thought I'd take a moment to share with you a poem I wrote about four years ago. (I took a while to think about how long it had been and then it scared me.) It's based on the story of Macbeth which is by William Shakespeare, and not by me at all, in any way shape or form. (just for legalities, should there be a need) It was a class assignment to 'transform a text', this is not what I ended up using for the coursework, but I'm still pretty proud of it, given how early on in my writing 'career' this was. It's not as long as it looks, and it's from the point of view of the witches. I hope you find some element of whimsy in it.

We three witches always meet,

Sun or thunder, hail or sleet.

We plot and plan and laugh and cackle,

Our foes will end up dead or shackled.

We hate the king; he’s not so noble,

Poisoned his father, frog’s eyes and toadstools.

He used our knowledge to gain his power,

Then he cast us out, began to cower;

He couldn’t pay us for what we showed,

And now we’ll collect the debt he owes.

Macbeth is kind but somewhat weak,

His wife has power but acts so meek.

We can see Macbeth is fighting,

For his king; his love undying.

When he and Banquo cross the heath,

They’ll know not what lies beneath;

Our crooked smiles and twisted tales,

Our evil traipsing through the vales.

We want to use him to gain vengeance,

We’ll waste no time with moral repentance.

We looked to the future and witnessed with glee,

Macbeth had power! His king deceased.

We conjured a plan, just us three,

Aided too by Hecate;

To tell Macbeth of what’s to come.

But he shall know not how it’s done;

We’ll go away and leave them to it,

But from a far, we’ll see him do it;

Kill the king and blame another,

His heirs will then go undercover,

Leaving a clearing for Macbeth,

To rule as king until his death.

Then we shall disappear in smoke,

And they shall take it as a joke.

We shall go to the underworld,

And watch as callas acts uncurl.

We’ll laugh at him, watch him suffer,

His wife shall leave him, so shall others.

He’ll give his all to take the crown,

And that will be what brings him down.

          So, that was that. I hope you liked it a little bit. Lots of love, and thanks for reading <3

                                                                                 Laura xoxoxoxox

Badgers

        Hey everyone, how are you doing? I wanted to share this, because I don't write poems often, and I liked how this one came out. I wasn't able to submit this as a coursework entry because it's not prose, but I wanted people to see it, because, let's be honest, who doesn't like whimsical poems about badgers? Right? so, with that being said, I hope you guys enjoy this, because I had so much fun writing this.

I took some pictures one fine day,

I took the pictures all the way,

They will help me to remember, that odd day in late September.

It started when I leaped from slumber,

And began to sing a number,

From my favourite west-end play, I sing it each and every day.

I went outside to take some pictures,

Appreciating nature’s fixtures,

I went inside and got my Kodak, and put spare batteries in my rucksack.

I took a picture of a tree, 

I took a picture of my knee,

I took a picture of a cat and then I put it in a hat.

I took a picture of a mouse,

I took a picture of his house,

I took a picture, then one more, and put him on my kitchen floor.

I took some pictures of the lake,

I took a picture of a cake,

I ate a slice and then another, then I took some for my mother.

I took a picture of a dog,

And then some of a sinking bog,

My lost my wellies in the mud and then my feet went slap, slap thud.

I took a picture of a pie,

And then I threw it at the sky,

When it crashed back to the ground, I crept away without a sound.

I took a picture of some honey,

I took a picture of my money,

I had about a pound that day, and spent it on a bale of hay.

I took a picture of a cloud,

I took a picture of a crowd,

I wondered what they were crowding for, and saw it was a tiny door.

I took a picture of the door,

It was blurred, I took some more,

Then I saw the door had vanished, and I thought that I’d been banished

To another world it seemed,

Unless I’d entered some strange dream,

For I was standing in a field, holding a great copper shield.

A badger ran up and bellowed,

‘HELP US, HELP US! MY DEAR FELLOW!’

I pulled out my sword and off we went, to a great big yellow floating tent.

I hopped inside and all I saw,

Were rows of badgers, ceiling to floor,

I tried to pause to take a picture, but was met with waves of stricture.

I was taken near the centre,

And told not yet to enter,

The ring which was drawn slightly wonky, and contained a sleeping donkey.

They poked him with a metal rod,

And slapped him with a fresh caught cod,

When he finally awoke, he coughed and spluttered, began to choke.

Eventually he caught his breath,

And told me that his name was Seth.

I nearly offered him a carrot, but the badgers told me ‘he’s fed parrots!’

I was challenged to a duel,

With what was actually a mule,

I put one foot into the ring, and then wondered why I should fight the thing.

The badgers then began to say,

What had happened one dark day,

The mule had come from some strange land, and told them theirs could be as grand.

He said he’d make their rivers shimmer,

As if they were looking through a mirror,

But instead he ate their food, and spent his days in foul moods.

When it turned out he had lied,

The badgers all sat down and cried,

Now they had no food to eat and the mule had broken all their seats.

‘Before I fight him,’ I told their leader,

‘I’ll photograph the little bleeder’

Snap flash! Snap flash! My camera went, lighting up the massive tent.

This threw the mule into a tizzy,

So fighting him was rather easy,

It only took some forty seconds, without the use of any weapons.

We lead the mule into a cage,

He did not even show us rage,

I took a picture of him inside, he tried to kick, his hooves were tied!

We sent him back to whence he came,

He said ‘I’m sorry, so ashamed’

The badgers noisily rejoiced, and many, many thanks were voiced.

I took some pictures of the badgers,

I took some pictures of their ladders,

We had a feast upon the hill, and hung bright flags from the windmill.

When morning came I went back home,

And told the story to a gnome,

He laughed and asked if he could see the pictures of this crazy dream.

I took my camera from its baggage,

Whilst munching on a tasty cabbage,

I pressed ‘view mode’ and nearly died, for there had been no film inside.

         Thanks for reading, I hope you liked the bathos at the end of this. (Just in case you didn't know, bathos is the feeling of being let down, typically at the end of a story.) 

                                               Laura

                                                       xoxoxoxox