Sunday, December 26, 2010

Poetry Bus Stops HERE. A Rare Gift

The Bus Stops HERE

Climb on board

Find a seat

And here we go!

Thank you to our own


for entrusting me with Monday's poetry challenge.

I'll make it as easy as possible, as most of you are in line at the (point of no) Returns Counter, being verbally abused by Misty Sue, Asst. Mgr. (Waddya mean dis ain't like the right size?)

So, while you're standing there, put your time to good use and write a poem - any style - about the worst, most useless, most disturbing, most painful, least wanted, most embarrassing, most inappropriate, or stupidest gift you ever received (or gave - if you're brave), all the while hoping that Great Aunt Mildew isn't reading your Poetry Bus blog. She'll disinherit you (again) when you complain, in verse of some sort, long or short, about the (yet another) Christmas sweater made of the yarn she's kept in the attic since 1887. Or perhaps you recall the little gee gaw that your new Mother-in-law

picked up for you while vacationing in Haus Frau, Idaho.
.It was, of course, nicely wrapped in reused (and used again and again (watch the tape, Dearie) and again paper.

You look up from the ( ?WHAT The F#%@* IS IT?) and attempt a smile (although your left eye is twitching) and see that she is waiting for a (I'm at a loss for words) (when's garbage day) response.

And say: " Uhm, ah, JustwhatI'vealwayswanted. Thankyoueverso (Benny, would you run and get Mumsie another drinkie-poo. That's a dear)"

That doesn't sound too difficult, does it? Sorry about the Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome that has suddenly surfaced.

Don't feel like the lone ranger. I haven't written mine yet. It's too painful to discuss. But I'll give my therapist a ring and have her bolster me up.

So write it all down, have a drink and I'll see you on the bus. When you're ready to board leave a note with your link and I'll post the list.

>>><<< >
And here it is. Not the "amusing rhyming whitty ditty I imagined, but a prose poem:

A Gift From Mother

Mother excelled in providing me with quality embarrassing moments. Seemed to enjoy and skillfully employ her craft like an inappropriate all occasion card. Moments that still prick at my skin like quills escaping from what could have been, should have been, a comfy down pillow. There was that birthday. I was an innocent uninformed twelve. Hard to imagine now what it was like to be twelve back then. Budding into young womanhood. In need of coverage and support. Surrounded by father and brothers all waiting expectantly for loosed ribbon and tape to allow escape of gifts from white tissue. I don’t recall now what they contained except for that last one. I wondered at it as it unfolded beneath my fingertips. Blouse or scarf or slip perhaps or… what…a bra? A bra. My first bra. Gifted. Lifted high as it unfolded in front of male eyes and the mirthful sounds of snorts and hoots and snickers. She’s no longer here. I cannot ask why she chose this public venue. Was she aiming arrows back at her mother? A kind of original sin explained and retained for another generation. Cake anyone?

Riding the bus today are these "gifted" gifted poets:

Peter Goulding

Doctor FTSE


Ann T

Dick Jones


Dave King


Mrs. Trellis

Domestic Oub

The Bug






Lucy Westenra


steviewren said...

The worst gift I ever received was at a ornament swap....yuck it was a lightbulb covered with shiny white glitter paint. To top it off there were feathers glued to the top.

An ornament so gross,
Too ugly to grace my tree.
What in the world was thought
When she decided to give it to me?

Merry Christmas Muse! Thanks for the card and for thinking of me at this wonderful time of year.

Totalfeckineejit said...


Great prompt, thank you. And MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

Peter Goulding said...

Hi Cynthia and a very merry Christmas to you and yours.
I have an inkling that I may be able to stretch out on the back seat this week!

Doctor FTSE said...

For once I am plenty of time to catch the Bus at this stop

Titus said...

To my shame, I done it!

Ann T. said...

Dear Muse Swings,
Thanks for driving the bus. I have a ticket!

Happy Boxing Day,
Ann T.

Dick Jones said...

Thank you, Muse Swings, for being at the wheel. Here's my seasonal reminiscence. Click on my name for a look.

Jinksy said...

My ticket is clutched in my frozen fingers HERE as I wait for an early morning busride!

Verification is 'gluboo' - I think I'm being told to wear gloves...

Dave King said...

I am aboard - just!
(Connectivity problems!!!!)

NanU said...

yes, cake please! Let's all stuff ourselves with some really good cake.
My ticket didn't form itself into a poem either:

Mrs.Trellis said...

We buy our BUS TICKET, HERE, but we never know where the bus is going.

Rachel Fox said...

Didn't even realise there was a Bus this week (and kneedeep in yuletide stuff here). Won't make it sorry but will try to get round and read some.

Peter Goulding said...

Can honestly say I never got a bra, thank God!

Domestic Oub said...

I'm onboard!!

The Bug said...

I don't remember what I was like at 12, but I evolved into a person who enjoyed turning the tables & embarrassing the person who embarrassed me. Perhaps it was a gift like yours that turned me into that monster :)

Here's my ticket:

nuts4fruits said...

I'd like a ticket too, please! And no shoving. It's my first time on the bus :)

My contribution is here Clean slate.

Kat Mortensen said...

Oh, I hear ya on the personal underwear front. Remember my 21st birthday post on Blasts about the male college friend/acquaintance who gave me silk panties for all to see? Oh, that won't count, will it? I have something else I can dredge up. Trust me.


Kat Mortensen said...

Walk a mile with me here:

Argent said...

Hi, everybody and a Happy New Year! I'm on board now here.

I'll be around to visit everyone as soon as I can.

Argent said...

Muse - Your poem was an excruciating pleasure to read! What on earth gets into people's heads sometimes. A great pity we can never ask that question.

Helen said...

Oh, your poem is just priceless! You can find me here. Happy New Year and thank you for driving that old bus!

Dick said...

Oh, excruciating! One of the most crucial duties of care that parents owe to their kids is the ability to recall vividly their own childhood and adolescence and then to identify. With that in place in all but the most hormonal of households tranquility would rule!

Lucy Westenra said...

Last in the queue again! Hope my TICKET isn't invalid.

Totalfeckineejit said...

How terrible! But so well written. I really like the quills bit and the all encompassing inappropriate cardness, brillo!

I'm onboard now too, thanks for the drive!

Lucy Westenra said...

Thank you for adding me to your poet list. Your own prose-poem is surely the basis of an excellent short story, and very well written in the short form here.