Posted in the Daily Post : Tiny : Photograph, Poetry and Humour
“A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark”
Dante Alighieri
Tiny Things
“The Tiny Elvis
Has left the building”
Category Archives: Humour
Humour
Tiny Things for the Daily Post (one)
Posted in the Daily Post : Tiny : Photograph, Poetry and Humour
“A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark”
Dante Alighieri
Tiny Things
Tiny in size
Two of a kind
In a meeting
Of the minds
Uphill Battle
Posted in the Throwback Thursday
“Snow and then some!”
Uphill Battle
Ride, ride, ride your bike
Gently up the hill
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
Life is but a chill
Songs for Throwback Thursday
Posted in the Throwback Thursday
“The only thing I ever throwback on Thursdays are drinks”
Songs for Throwback Thursday
We all love songs and singing, so for this weeks Throwback Thursday, a few posts dedicated to songs, naturally 😉 So here they are, direct from the archives: Let the rapping begin!
Life is a Musical
Can Do Attitude
Uphill Battle
Umbrella
A Singalong for Caturday
The Gun Rap
Life is a Musical
Posted in the Throwback Thursday
“The world’s most famous and popular language is music” Psy
Life is a Musical
Luck be a lady
Don’t be shady
Roll on those dice
Bring me nothing
But blue skies
Today
All day long
Singing along
Dancing, prancing
Even romancing
In the rain
Real life
Down the drain
Feels like
Witchcraft
Sorcery
No worries
Of groceries
When I’m riding
On this plane
All is fine
There is no time
To slow down
Get me to
Funky town
My life is
A musical
Today
The Gun Rap
Posted in the Throwback Thursday
“When in Rhyme do as the Rhymers do”
The Gun Rap
My name is Gun
I am a lot of fun
Some call me ‘Nilla
I am here to chilla
Here are some facts
Seven to be exact
Guess that is the most
You’ll find about this host
I am a wannabe writer
And maybe a little brighter
Than you might think
While you let that sink
I will continue my rant
In the form of this chant
Even though I really can’t
Sing, dance or ant?
“What? Ant? That is not a verb!”
“I was trying to rhyme -erb”
“If you can’t rhyme, stay out of the kitchen”
“Why are you so bitchen?”
“Enough with the rhyme!”
“Fine! Now gimme a dime and lets get back to the rap!”
The three letters
Best defining my efforts
Photography, Poetry
And P…
“Oops, can’t say that out loud on television <smirks>!”
“We’re not on television! This is a written blog you dumbass!”
“Hey, you said ass! That is mighty sass of you!”
“Argh! I give up!”
“Great, now back to the rap!”
Well, the last of the three
Is for me to know and for thee
To find out
Oh, do not pout!
I am a non-smoker
And I like to play poker
No just kidding
Seemed more fitting
Now to end this rap
I had to fill the gap
And already told you more
Than I intended for
Word!
I Wannabe A Drag Queen
Posted in Celebration/Fandom
“I Look Fuckin’ Cool” – Adore Delano & Alaska Thunderfuck
A Wanna-be Drag Queen
There is just something
to be said
About a man
in a dress
Not one hair
in a mess
Everyone staring
at big earrings
A Sculpted body
and lean legs
The woman embodies
A honey trap?
but into the spiders webs
Sickening
Gorgeous
Bickering
Flawless
Fabulous
Marvelous
Out of this world
Down the runway they swirled
Looking fucking cool
All we do is drool
You better work
With your lips in a smirk
It’s just a quirk
Don’t let it irk
I may be a woman
Must come clean
Maybe an omen
But I’m a wanna-be drag queen
“It’s not personal, It’s just drag” – Alyssa Edwards
Coffee for Daily Thought
Posted in Daily Thought
“Coffee; need I say more?” Gun Roswell
Coffee for Daily Thought
Bad day? Coffee.
Good day? Coffee.
A lot of work to do? Coffee.
Bad credit? Coffee.
Dry skin? Coffee.
Coffee? Coffee.
The Observer for the Daily Post
Posted in the Daily Post : In The Style Of : Tales of the odd and unexpected
“There’s no way to remove the observer – us – from our perceptions of the world” Stephen Hawking
The Observer
I was sitting in the coffee shop, my well-deserved latte in front of me. I was content in emerging into my daily readings on my tablet, but for some reason my eyes kept wandering to the hassle in the bar. Patrons were leaving and new ones were stepping into the shop.
‘Why not!’ I thought. I could play the part of the observer for a little while before continuing my own tasks. Who knows, maybe I would pick up an idea or two for my next writing project.
Sipping my coffee, I noticed the young couple in the corner booth. They were enjoying each others’ company, looking each other in the eye, no words were spoken. New love was in the air.
Feeling like a peeping Tom, I search for something else to gaze upon. My eyes were scanning the room and landed on a woman with three offspring. The mother was deep in thought, or so it seemed, reading the newspaper while her children were throwing napkins, straws and other small items at each other. I wondered how she managed to turn off the surroundings. The patrons at the next table however were not so lucky. Shaking their heads, they grabbed their orders and moved to another table at the farther end the coffee shop.
I laughed a little at the scene played out before me. Good thing I had been thinking ahead and chose the solitary spot close to the windows in the corner. I had a clear view of the whole establishment, but I was also able to concentrate on my reading if I wanted to.
I thought to seek out one more scene before tuning myself out. I noticed the waitresses behind the bar having a heated conversation. I was not able to hear what they were talking about, but clearly the other one was angry about something and kept on ranting, while the other one was just listening in. Wide eyed, nodding every now and again. The angry one was waving her arms in the air, while the quiet one remained stationary, her hands seemed almost glued to her sides. It seemed from an observer’s perspective, the ranter was in charge in that particular relationship, while the listener did just that and probably agreed to everything the ranter told her.
I lost my interest after a little while and noticed the coffee house getting emptier. Guess the rush was over and I could get back to my reading.
Is there any Figgy Puddin’ left? for the Daily Post
Posted in the Daily Post : In The Style Of : Tales of the odd and unexpected
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” Charles Dickens
Is there any Figgy Puddin’ left?
The year was 1845. I was about ten years of age and working as a stable girl. Our family lived and worked in Lord Hamilton’s manor house. It was Christmas time and as a gift for the servants, the Lord arranged a feast for the staff and their families.
Mommy had the children dressed in their Sunday best. My two brothers were complaining about the stiffness of the shirts. Starch was itchy and could cause rash, especially if one scratched the itch.
I had my favourite dress on and my younger sister was a bit jealous of the red and green colouring. She was wearing a plain blue coloured hand me down.
After all the fuzz and hassle with the wardrobe, the whole family was finally set to go to the main house and start with the Christmas dinner. Us servants would be dining in the large kitchen. Several long tables were brought in with extra seats as well. This wasn’t a large household. With around fifteen servants and their families, well not all had children and spouses, all in all around sixty people in total crammed around the tables. The two cooks had had their hands full with the preparations and naturally every one that could had chipped in.
But now it was time for celebration. Everyone was finally sitting down and getting quiet. After grace the noise level rose again. Food containers were passed around and everyone was filling their respective plates. After all, it wasn’t often we got to eat in this manner and variety.
After a while, everyone had cleared their plates and it was time for dessert. My favourite was the Figgy Pudding. If possible I opted for seconds. As I got my plate of the delicious substance before me, I licked my lips and dug into it with gusto. It did not take too long for the food to disappear from my plate.
My mom looked at me with a smirk. I looked back at her and passing my bowl I asked: “Is there any Figgy Puddin’ left?”
I was smiling widely, feeling exhilarated, when the bowl was passed back to me with an other helping.
When the final bits were eaten, it was time for the traditional sing along. The farmhand brought out his accordion and after the first few tunes, we all joined in. The evening was spent singing, chatting and finally picking up the tables. We all went back to our dwellings, thanking the Lord for the special meal.
Merry Pudding and God bless us everyone!
Rantings Of A Third Kind 