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Step into The Rhyming Room

Poetry on typewriter

Would you prefer to write your comments as a poem? Then The Rhyming Room is exactly where you want to be. Take inspiration from our weekly themes or wax lyrical on current consumer concerns…

The Which? Conversation community is fortunate to have many budding poets in its midst who frequently put their thoughts into verse.

On the odd occasion, we’ve even had dedicated conversations encouraging you to show off your creative talents and command of couplets and stanzas, such as those community member Ian led on National Poetry Day last year and at Christmas.

Poets’ corner

Concerned that some of the odes may get buried and forgotten in the depths of Which? Conversation, a number of you have requested a permanent poetry convo.

The space you envisaged was somewhere to store your topical verses so you could easily access them for further enjoyment – and even contribute more when you’re feeling inspired.

So, without further ado: welcome to The Rhyming Room.

On song

Of course, the main idea here is to write poems about your thoughts on current consumer issues.

But for added inspiration, each week, we’ll also be suggesting themes. These could be based on a mixture of world, international and national days, and even dubious celebratory days – so be sure to check back regularly.

Naturally, if you come up with your own celebratory occasion and want to write a poem, that’s OK, too.

Your musings can also be serious or amusing.

The only rules are that the poems must be your own work and it would be helpful to others to mention the subject. You should also always keep our Community Guidelines in mind.

To kick things off, Alfa’s kindly put pen to paper.

Did you ever dream of being a poet
But never quite sure just how to show it?
Let thoughts in your head turn to words that flow
And watch a poem start to grow

Each week there will be a new set of themes
Inspiration may come to you in your dreams
The end of lines don’t have to rhyme
Just come back and share with us in due time

This week’s themes:

Any current issues on Which? Conversation, plus:

Notable upcoming dates:

Fri 26 May: Don’t Fry Day, Dracula Day, Paper Airplane Day, Heat Awareness Day
Sat 27 May: Cellophane Tape Day, Sun Screen Day,
Sun 28 May: Brisket Day, Amnesty International Day, Hamburger Day, World Hunger Day
Mon 29 May: Biscuit Day, Paper Clip Day, Learn About Composting Day, Coq Au Vin Day
Tue 30 May: Water a Flower Day, Loomis Day, My Bucket’s Got A Hole Day
Wed 31 May: No Tobacco Day, Macaroon Day, Senior Health & Fitness Day, Speak in Sentences Day
Thu 1 Jun: Say Something Nice Day, Go Barefoot Day, Olive Day, Heimlich Manoeuvre Day, Penpal Day
Fri 2 Jun: Doughnut Day, Rocky Road Day, Leave The Office Early Day,
Sat 3 Jun: Repeat Day, Insect Repellent Awareness Day, Egg Day
Sun 4 Jun: Hug Your Cat Day, Tailors Day, Old Maid’s Day, Cancer Survivors Day, Cheese Day, Cognac Day

Please check back regularly for themes of the week.

We look forward to reading your compositions!

With special thanks to Which? Conversation community member, Alfa, who assisted with this conversation and came up with the inspired name of The Rhyming Room.

Comments

Submarine day? A couple of submerged thoughts surface. The second of these to the tune “Lavenders Blue” is a reflection on the caustic nature of some of the nursery rhymes we (used to) sing to our young children.

In Latin, sub means
Under, marine means, of sea.
What lies under sea?
*******************************************
Submarine black, bubble, bubble,
On the way down.
Water inside? Trouble, trouble,
People may drown.

Submarine black, bubble, bubble,
On the way back.
Now could be seen? Trouble, trouble,
Might face attack.

Submarine black, bubble, bubble,
Safe in the dock.
Sailors ashore? Trouble, trouble,
Hear the town rock.

Papers and briefings,
Excuses and stats,
Answers for most things,
Prepare for brick-bats.

Tie on and dark suit,
Shoes black to shine.
Now on the train route
For London by nine.

Into the palace
And passes obtained.
Oh, poisoned chalice!
But composure sustained.

Now down the maze
Of labyrinthine ways.
Past the eagle eyed gaze
Of men suited in greys.

At last to the room.
Door opened within.
The moment of doom,
Confession of sin.

They sit in a horseshoe,
With water in glasses;
Their lap-tops on view.
Subtly observing what passes.

The inquisitor’s table
Is set facing all,
With chair to enable
A captive in thrall.

A bell rings -it’s started.
Its ringing is stilled.
The questions are darted;
The Big Cheese is grilled.

Excellent, Vynor. I loved the last line with its double meaning. It fully deserves a topping of Worcestershire sauce. I also liked the tempo change with the rhyming pattern of your fourth stanza.

Good stuff, V.

Praise from such erudite folk on the scene
Is welcome for one who puts verse on the screen.

Sorry to have missed “bat appreciation day” yesterday Alfa.

I love my bat
Its willow and beech
Its curve and its flat
Its handle and reach.
The sixes I’ve scored
With my bat like a sword

I love my bat
Crack! that’s four more on board.
How’s that!
They applaud.

Brill! I have a lot of cricketing friends who will love this. Intending to post my own poem soon…

The bats I appreciate have wings. I used to live a short walk away from a river and almost every evening there were bats in the trees at dusk. I now have no bats and no river – but a much smaller insurance policy.

Great interpretation 🏏 of bat 🦇 appreciation day Vynor.

Bats are regular visitors to our garden in the warmer evenings and even nest under our roof tiles some years. They find their way between the tiles and lining and we can hear what sounds like a bat nursery later in late summer. I’m just glad they are not the size of the huge (fruit?) bats we saw in Cyprus.

More upcoming dates:

Tue Apr 18: Amateur Radio Day, World Heritage Day, Pet Owners Independence Day
Wed Apr 19: Garlic Day, Banana Day, Bicycle Day, Hanging Out Day
Thu Apr 20: Look Alike Day, Volunteer Recognition Day, High Five Day, Wear A Flower Day
Fri Apr 21: Tea Day, Day of Silence, Bulldogs Are Beautiful Day, Skipping Day
Sat Apr 22: Jelly Bean Day, Earth Day, Record Store Day
Sun Apr 23: St. George’s Day, German Beer Day, English Language Day, Talk Like Shakespeare Day, Lover’s Day
Mon Apr 24: Poem In Your Pocket Day, Firefly Day, Pig In A Blanket Day
Tue Apr 25: DNA Day, Hug a Plumber Day, Malaria Day, Hairball Awareness Day, World Penguin Day
Wed Apr 26: Hug an Australian Day, Richter Scale Day, Save The Frogs Day, Golf Day, International Guide Dogs Day, Sense of Smell Day,

Doctor Who fans celebrate April 23 as Impossible Astronaut Day.

On Poem In Your Pocket Day, carry your favourite poem in your pocket and share it with everyone.

Might I crave the link for all those, Alfa? I was trying to find it, today, to no avail and much frustration 🙂

Not sure I should give away my secret sources Ian………….

There are quite a few sites but many of them are on here:
https://www.daysoftheyear.com/

Thank you very much: you are an angel 🙂

Just to show how well I like the pipistrelle…

Two sharp eyes,
Points of reflected light.
Unblinking in their stare.
And, to my surprise,
Two more to the right
Catch the torches glare.

A cluster then
With pointed ears and nose,
Hang vertically down
In this cave like den.
Daylight in repose
Awaiting night’s dark gown.

And more again behind,
Wings furled as if in prayer,
Triangles of webbing,
Membrane crossed and lined.
A outer coating layer
Spread when daylight’s ebbing.

Nature’s flight refined,
In twilight shadows darting.
Food taken from the air,
Sharp teeth to gnash and grind.
Together now, then parting,
Their sounds sharp ears to share.

Now, cavities filled,
Close bodied, packed in tight.
So many of their kind
In darkened shadow chilled.
Then! eyes move, tracking light.
Who says that bats are blind?

I’m out of here like a bat out of…. well pretty swiftly for a while. Too much verse? Adverse or worse.

Pipe Dreams -or- What have you been on?

H—-u—-g—-a—-plu—-m—-ber
H—u—g—a—plu—m—ber
H- – u–g–a–plu–m–ber
H-u-g-a-plu-m-ber
Hugaplumber
Hug-gap-plum-umber
Hugalumper -lumper-lump -luggle-luggle lug.

and the bath is empty.

An anti-verse: no rhyme, no form and a bit of satire.

Covering The Bases For Alfa.

Hug an Australian?
Pretty low on my Richter scale.
Save the Frogs?
Well you might want to save the poles.
(note the small p and the capital F!)
Golf Day?
Take a swing at that!
International Guide Dog day?
What does an international dog look like?
Nothing to sniff at, that’s for sure.

Just a brief sojourn here to keep the page going. It’s a bit lonely here, hence the poem.

On Visiting An Island.

The cupboards are bare,
Nothing in there.
The rooms are still
And empty until
The air is stirred
By the sound of a word.
The houses in hiatus
Dark in their status
Just walls there in waiting
Only past for debating.
The gardens are fenceless
From bramble defenceless.
The moors with their bracken
And wind that won’t slacken.
The cliffs where they fall
To the waves crash and call.
The past is a mystery
To all now but history;
The people, the clans,
Their future plans,
All over and done,
Their life journey run.
The painful parting
Eye tears smarting
Labours in vain
Given up in pain,
New life, new gain,
Just memories remain,
And the broken home
Stands now alone.

The village, the school,
The chapel, the pool,
The track to the shore
Trodden no more.
They were really there,
In that landscape bare
They really were there.
Look, see shadows, where
The doorways stand
Shadows cross the strand
Where children ran
Women sat and span
While others dug and hoed
Huge effort – little showed.
Shadows of departing folk,
And natures all enveloping cloak,
With simple growth employing
Human endeavour destroying.
Wild and desolate as it seems,
This is still a place of dreams.

Maybe I should tag this on to the addiction debate elsewhere, but the fun of creating and, for me, a useful cerebral safety valve, keeps me coming back. Sadly, I seem to have a monopoly here at present and wonder where everyone has got to. There must be more who succumb to the poetic muse now and then….

This one is in honour of the election, tomorrow and on June 8th.

Election Day.

The voters,
The floaters.
The life members,
The dissemblers.
The decided,
The divided.
The sitters,
The quitters.
The decisive,
The divisive.

The voting,
The noting.
The tallying,
The rallying.
The computation,
The speculation.
The tables,
The labels.
The workers,
The lurkers.
The carriers,
The tarriers .
The collators,
The numerators.

The anticipation,
The realisation.
The enunciation,
The congratulation.
The appointed,
The disappointed.
The jubilation,
The felicitation.
The aftermath,
The wrath.
The empty stage.
The next clean page.

Vynor Hill do not despair,
Your verse is getting everywhere.
It’s all well liked and much enjoyed,
And keeps the rhythmic spirits buoyed.

Keep up the good work 🙂

Aw! Thanks Ian. – ~ ~

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🙂

Notable upcoming dates:
Sat May 6: No Diet Day, Herb Day, Beverage Day, Join Hands Day, Homebrew Day
Sun May 7: Lemonade Day, Roast Leg of Lamb Day, Paste-Up Day
Mon May 8: No Socks Day, Free Trade Day, Iris Day, Have A Coke Day
Tue May 9: Europe Day, Lost Sock Memorial Day, Public Gardens Day, Teacher Appreciation Day
Wed May 10: Stay Up All Night Night, World Migratory Bird Day, Mother Ocean Day, Windmill Day,
Thu May 11: Eat What You Want Day, Twilight Zone Day, Root Canal Appreciation Day
Fri May 12: Limerick Day, Odometer Day, International Nurses Day, One Day Without Shoes Day
Sat May 13: Frog Jumping Day, Train Day, World Belly Dance Day, Leprechaun Day, Fair Trade Day
Sun May 14: Dance Like A Chicken Day, Receptionists Day
Mon May 15: Chocolate Chip Day, Straw Hat Day, Nylon Stockings Day, International Families Day

Paste-Up refers to a method of preparing and laying out pages of publication in pre-digital days when newspapers, magazines and catalogues were all compiled by hand.

Thanks, Alfa. The new dates have been added.

One obvious omission is the lack of a Stem Ginger Cookie day.

There seems to be no rhyme or reason.

Dear Alfa, Hoping that you will grant poetic licence and spell “beverage” – from the Latin bibere – drink – (hence imbibe) as ” Beveridge.” He interests me more than liquor. I’ve penned a small tribute to him, though would be the first to admit the meter is stretched in places to accommodate the ideas. Bio-verses? Well that’s the idea.

Sir William Beveridge.

William Beveridge -social reformer,
Indian son of judicial informer.
A Bengal birthday set to bring
A Victorian child in the 79th Spring.

Brains-a-plenty in him blessed,
And lawyer’s training he possessed.
Political ambitions grew so grand
Lloyd George had him in his band.

World war, the nation fought and “won”,
Beveridge moved men to make things run.
Then Lloyd George, his ruling done,
William was free – new work begun.

The L.S.E. a new affair,
Economics and teaching in his care,
‘Til war again its fiery spread
Filled the nation all with dread.

When defeat seemed less a fear,
Beveridge received a message clear:
“Plan a life for those oppressed,
Wartime ravages re-dressed.”

Five tormentors were said to haunt:
Disease, ignorance, squalor, idleness and want.
William researched and also charted,
Then to the nation his wisdom imparted.

His report, the insight profound,
Became the policy on the ground.
All to have care -the weak, the brave,
“From the cradle to the Grave.”

A National Health designed to be
A service to the nation, free.
A welfare state to support and care
A social service for all to share.

Beveridge’s plans were stored ’til peace
Gave the nation some release.
Then his plans and future dreams
Became ‘Ni’ Bevan’s plans and schemes.

William Beveridge, statesman he,
Became a noble lord to be
The Liberal Leader of the “House”
Worldly wisdom sense and ‘nous.’

His death in nineteen sixty three
Completes this biographic tree.
His waving flag – our welfare world
Crumpled now, but still unfurled.

The national days are there for inspiration Vynor so take them any way you want. I have not felt too poetic lately but still enjoy reading your poems.

Great stuff Vynor! Keep ’em coming. I think we should have a Vynors commemorate day!

I refuse to get swell headed,
Though my pencil is still leaded.
Thank you for your thoughts,
And encouraging reports.
I’ll be selective in this space,
And not out-stay my place.

Since conversing elsewhere about “the meaning of life and everything,” this has been gestating. I’ll pack my bags and wander off for a while…leaving this reflection for those who wonder whether what we see, is actually what we see.

In A Mirror.

In a mirror,
Things do not appear as they might.
In a mirror,
Words turn around in fright.

In a mirror,
Clock face number games play.
In a mirror,
The time hands turn the wrong way.

In a mirror,
Time traverses in reverse.
In a mirror,
It all seems so perverse.

In a mirror,
my left eye becomes my right.
In a mirror
I never know myself quite.

In a mirror,
I can magnify and distort.
In a mirror,
I can reduce the image caught.

In a mirror,
A door handle to the other side flies.
In a mirror,
A pot is stirred contrary-wise.

But, in a mirror,
In a mirror,
A police car is still a police car.

I met this young lad from Tralee
Who’d been stung on the neck by a bee
When I asked if it hurt
he said ‘No, not a lot’
It c’n do it agin if it loikes!

Thanks for the company, Kev!.
Chocolate Chip Day? Well that’s what you said Alfa, wasn’t it? I’ve just begun it.

Chocolate Chip Day.

It’s my day.
Well, it’s always my day.
I have my say.
I always have my way.

The sun rise.
I always see the sun rise.
No one lies,
When the sun is in the skies.

I climb the stairs.
I leap those treaded stairs.
My paws crash,
The bedroom door I bash.

It opens and I jump,
Upon the bed I jump.
My tongue is sticking out,
From bed those sleepers rout.

From the bed a roar,
An angry, muffled roar.
“You left the bedroom door!”
I’m in the duvet on the floor.

Pyjama clad he goes,
To the kitchen cupboard goes.
My bowl appears in sight,
Breakfast crunch and bite.

Yes it is my day,
I’ve won, this sunny day.
“Chip”, chocolate dog in breed,
I’m searching for my lead.

Hacks R Us.
Instant riches without fuss.
Get your kit for a modest fee
Then cast your net completely free.
Suck in victims by the score
You won’t get caught -that’s for sure.
Just apply at the address below
Our kit gives all you need to know.
A hundred dollars is all we ask
everything needed for the task.
Just remember, Hacks R Us
Instant riches without fuss.

Instant Therapy.

Feeling bitter and twisted today,
So.
I’ve come here to let off steam.
Shshshshshshshshshshshshsh..
Ah, that’s better!

What am I doing here? You may well ask. There’s something of a cache inhabiting a space that no one else seems to want. I also get perverse pleasure in the knowledge that now this is available to me,I can use it without getting kicked off, unless I write things that Patrick’s censor objects to. It’s why I didn’t put an “it” at the end of one of the lines in my last entry. I do have some conscience and will again vacate this place for a while, after I have mused a little further.

Addiction?

Is the addiction to writing in verse
More of a blessing or simply a curse?
Does this high muse as it outward flows,
Almost drown as it twists round the prose?
Does all the rhyming make syntax perverse?

Is the structure a hinder or bar?
Does the sentiment dictate too far?
Could one just say the same thing out straight
Without having metre a must to create?
Are poems, like calculus, one over par?

There are poets who dazzle with erudite thought.
Some seem successful, syllables simply sought.
Others are funny and witty and fey,
While yet others the cynical satirist play.
And there are the spinners – emotionally caught.

We revere our past masters like Wordsworth and Keats.
We admire intellectuals like Sitwell and Yeats.
So poets in past times, and now just a few,
Can make it to the masses with challenges new.
Fine poets, their music, our reason entreats.

I struggle and strive with joy and with sorrow,
The joy of creating and time that I borrow,
From doing the things that always await,
The cleaning, the cooking and washing the plate.
I may not be famous – but there’s always tomorrow!