Category Archives: Odes To Inanimate Objects

Posts where I share my delightful odes to inanimate objects!

An Ode to Angry Birds

Once again I bring to you a frivolous Ode:

An Ode to Angry Birds

O Angry Birds,
Why are you so?
It was those damned
Porcine foe.

They stole your eggs
And now must pay
In explodey, crunchy
Smashy ways.

O Angry Birds,
Where shall we go?
To defeat those damned
Porcine foe?

In space, in Rio,
In the Wild West,
Anywhere we find those
Porky pests.

O Angry Birds,
Why is it so much fun?
When I told myself
Work should be done?

It’s the height of
Procrastination
To smash and crash
And dream of bacon.

An Ode to an Ode

Some of you may know that sometimes I write Odes to Inanimate Objects. Today, I’m writing an Ode… to an Ode:

An Ode to an Ode

An Ode to an Ode;
A jest to a jest.
Hiding behind word-play
To escape seriousness.

Writing novels is tricky
But Odes are just fun,
So I’d rather write Odes than the
Bazillionth novel I’ve begun.

How can you blame me?
Odes are short and witty.
Novels are long and hard,
Writing them is rarely pretty.

So here I am, writing this
Instead of what I should be.
Hoping that at the end
I’ll at least feel happy

That I’ve written something
At all, instead of watch tv,
Or drink beer in the afternoon
Which is tempting me.

I’ll probably still do these things,
But at least I can say,
To myself if no one else: Hey,
I’ve written a freaking Ode today.

An Ode: To Cheese, From A Lactard

In lieu of having anything of interest to talk about, I give to you an ode to an inanimate object.  And just so you know – a “Lactard” is someone who is Lactose Intolerant, whose lactase enzymes are too retarded to do their job properly and digest the loveliness of cheese.  Curse you, enzymes!!!

To Cheese, From A Lactard

Why do you hurt me so?
I only wish to partake
Of your cheesy delight.
But – Alas! – it is not to be.

For I am a Lactard,
Full of unworthy enzymes
Which cannot digest you
And it leads to unpleasantness.

But every so often,
Once a moon or so,
I cannot help but eat you
And take lactase tablets.

Behold! The lovely cheese!
My favourite: Brie,
Creamy, soft and divine
After cutting off icky rind bits.

I devour it, in transports
Of fervour and delight –
Beauteous dairy!
I could eat it all day long.

But this binge passes
Too soon, and I am left bereft
Not to have my beloved cheese,
Left alone in the cruel world of soy substitution.

Yes – I have monthly cheese binges and it’s amazing.

Yesterday was one such Cheese Binge Day, and it was magical.  But even when I do take the tablets, it doesn’t get rid of all the side-effects.  I won’t divulge exactly what side-effects persevere, but let’s just say you don’t want to be locked in a small, airless room with me anytime soon.

Apocalypse, Part 2, and An Ode Most Deserving

Ok, so just after posting my spiel about the apocalypse, we found ourselves in a rather apocalyptic situation:  FLOODING OF ALL THE ROADS EVERYWHERE.  We were driving from our village in Fife to see The Husband’s family in Perth.  What is usually a 30-minute scenic journey became an hour and a half of white-knuckled danger (with subsequent adrenalin high and slightly hysterical laughter!).

It’s the typical problem of snow that hasn’t really melted, plus torrential rain and wind.  Drains aren’t clear, rivers and lochs break their banks, and driving becomes much more of an extreme sport than you’d bargained for.

But through it all, there is a hero of the hour.  And this is for her:

To Our Tiny Purple Car

 

Edna scoffs at danger –

Ha! She fear it not –

When hills are steep

And ways are fraught.

 

Every peril in our path

From snow to mud

Rain, potholes, ice

And the latest – flood!

 

We saw the road ahead

Choked by nearby loch

Its waters run over-ground

But Edna laughed and mocked.

 

Call this a flood?!

She seem’d to say

Her engine roaring

Like a lupine bay.

 

And indeed, like a puddle

Over which we soar’d,

Past loch, hill and field

and through a nearby ford.

 

Ahead a sign warns:

Flood! and others heed

By slowing to a crawl

But not our steed!

 

Aha! She cries

Revving high

While others crawl

Edna flies!

 

Across this inland lake

Others stop and stare

Too timid by far

Too afraid to dare.

 

But Edna, laughing still,

Says, You Dolts and Fools!

Your chassis is taller than I

To take you across these pools!

 

And thus we exited

Back onto drier street

Shaming those onlookers

Into attempting the same feat.

 

And so my advice to you,

If the Apocalypse is truly nigh:

Find yourself a Nissan dealership

And a Micra you should buy.

True story.

To Our Tiny Purple Car

 

Edna scoffs at danger –

Ha! She fear it not –

When hills are steep

And ways are fraught.

 

Every peril in our path

From snow to mud

Rain, potholes, ice

And the latest – flood!

 

We saw the road ahead

Choked by nearby loch

Its waters run over-ground

But Edna laughed and mocked.

 

Call this a flood?!

She seem’d to say

Her engine roaring

Like a lupine bay.

 

And indeed, like a puddle

Over which we soar’d,

Past loch, hill and field

and through a nearby ford.

 

Ahead a sign warns:

Flood! and others heed

By slowing to a crawl

But not our steed!

 

Aha! She cries

Revving high

While others crawl

Edna flies!

 

Across this inland lake

Others stop and stare

Too timid by far

Too afraid to dare.

 

But Edna, laughing still,

Says, You Dolts and Fools!

Your chassis is taller than I

To take you across these pools!

 

And thus we exited

Back onto drier street

Shaming those onlookers

Into attempting the same feat.

 

And so my advice to you,

If the Apocalypse is truly nigh:

Find yourself a Nissan dealership

And a Micra you should buy.

Thank You, Adventures in Advance Planning and Ode to a Bunch of Grapes I Bought Today

Thank you all for your support of yesterday’s whine!!  I feel a lot better just having said it all, and actually woke up this morning with renewed determination to write Cobault.  I’ve now re-read all that I had written and re-written previously, editing and notating as I went.

Now I’m trying to do at least a little bit of advance planning for the rest of the action, since I realise that one of the harder things to do as an amateur writer is to handle the passage of time.  In an effort to not write an endless litany of every character’s movements in tedious minutia, I’m outlining the essential events and I can fill in more detail later if need be.

To address the main part of my whine, however, I’ve decided to do some research.  There’s an important central event I still need to rewrite so I’m trying to find some literature, particularly of the time of Wollstonecraft to tie into the feminist ideas I’ve already used, that deal with similar themes.  This way I can trick my subconscious into making some interesting parallels that my conscious mind wouldn’t have thought of!

So all this bodes well, generally.  I’m sure I’ll continue to have periodic wobbles of Blah from time to time, but that’s just how it is.  You can’t be creative, and thus exposing your most private thoughts, hopes and dreams to all and sundry, without a bit of self-doubt from time to time.

And thank you in advance to anyone who talks me down in any of these future moments of doubt and woe!  You’re the best!!

I think I will intersperse different kinds of posts from time to time, however, to break up what kind of writing I do.  Maybe this way I can keep myself from getting too bogged down and depressed about feeling like a current project is getting stalled.  I can have breaks and come back to it refreshed.  I’ll take your advice to heart, Ali, and perhaps do some some literary reviews and Odes to Inanimate Objects.

I’m starting right now, with:

 

Ode to the Bunch of Grapes I Bought Today


Juicy Orbs, your skin conceals

Spherical refreshment

To burst forth with succulence.

 

Why then, I ask, do you seek

To hurt me so? Hiding demon

Seeds which choke and anger me.

 

Devil’s own fruit! I love you so,

Except for those vile attributes.

Why must you possess them?

 

When I purchased you from

the store your packaging proclaimed:

Seedless! What lies!

To A Spoon – An Ode Most Heartfelt

As someone mentioned looking forward to odes to inanimate objects, I feel the need to oblige.  This, my friends, is:

To A Spoon

O’ lovely Spoon, it’s roundness pleasing,

From a jar, its contents easing

Delights, for my delectation,

The vehicle of this revelation.

A Spoon – such a simple artifice!

From a handle a scoop doth kiss

Upon merry ladies at their tea

One sugar, my dear, or perhaps three?

At this convenience I cannot say

But that I knowest mine heart doth stray

Upon a Knife, or Fork, it’s true –

When a Spoon just will not do.