Week 11: 9-22 September

There’s no stopping them now. The momentum has built with each communal poem – they have sprouted an air of confidence. I rather like the tangents this week’s communal poem takes, albeit surprising (and still a little bumpy rhythmically). Again there’s a morbid fascination, and dark humour – possibly from the same coffee hound who contributed to last week’s effort? This time there were 10 different sets of handwriting.

***
Pretty Polly was a pest, she’d be a pain on purpose
but pretty Pam on the other hand was part of a travelling band.
Pretty Peter was a twit, social media was his thing
but little did he realise, his tweet had broke his wing!

Amongst the many other things he was still a dickie bird
just trying – oh was he ever trying! – to be heard.
Taking a step back and with a big breath
he jumped off a cliff to fly but instead fell to his death.

But just before he hit the ground, life flashed before his eyes
he was proud to be president of the Vic Bears…
    Yeah mate… WHO CARES!
***

Week 10: 2-8 September

They did it again! The caffeine fiends at The Bean Barn didn’t just follow the line I left on the residency whiteboard, they led it down some seedy lane ways and back alleys.

Nine different sets of handwriting appeared on the board over the week, with some truly alarming word selection and a bit of a racy sentiment (that’s a warning to the underage folk reading this). The rhyming scheme was was changed after the first stanza which shortened the rhythms and to my ear chopped it up somewhat.

**
Silly Sam moved to Sydney to see the lights and delights

He kept to himself through the days but found trouble in the nights
You see, the seedy side of Sydney caught his fancy by and by
and a ‘lady’ of the night entrapped him like a fly!

She delighted him like a jam fancy but unexpectedly her name was Clancy
She led him up the garden path and lay him on her hearth
She plied him with some grog for she was after more than a snog
However his endowment was not as foretold so she kicked him out into the cold!

This only made his problems worse – poor Sam fell asleep in a hearse.

**
Now I know it came down to a rhyming conundrum but really, did nothing other than ‘hearse’ come to mind at the end?! That’s just morbid, whoever wrote that line. Still, I enjoyed it for its silliness, and for the proof that communal poems are possible – unpredictable – but possible.

 

Week 9: 26 Aug-1 Sept

The poem that magically appeared on the residency whiteboard this week resembled a communal effort! I had started it off with two lines instead of one, and chose the Ditty Approach: a silly rhyme with a little alliteration. People got into it and responded with two lines each, following the sentiment.

Perhaps the coffee-soaked environment at The Bean Barn encourages frivolity. Or maybe it just means at the core we’re all big kids who like to play. No doubt about it, this residency is bringing up the big questions…

Despite the little lumps in it, I’m proud of our communal effort. Don’t forget – every two lines of the following ditty were written by a different person:

Poor old Pete was in a pickle,
his plans had gone astray.
He picked a pair of pears but hadn’t
planned on them being prickly!
Or being so sweet and sickly
or the skin being so tickly!
Old Pete didn’t mind a tickle,
just not in a prickly way.

Thanks to those who contributed! Can’t wait to see what is created from next week’s two-line scenario.

Week 8: 19-25 August

You may recall I started a ‘communal poem’ on the whiteboard at the Bean Barn in a bid to get the visiting coffee fiends engaged in a round of poetry badminton of sorts. Then I waited. And saw.

Interesting result. Rather more on the scary end of the Interesting Spectrum than I’d have hoped, however. The communal poem concept of many people adding one line each to create a single poem didn’t eventuate. Instead it was apparently commandeered by one individual who rather liked rhyming. It was by no means a disaster (in spite of accessional bumps in the rhythm); it was just not particularly communal!

If I can find where I wrote the lines, I’ll update the post…

Week 4: 22-28 July

How’s this: you wouldn’t think when it’s so easy to ‘just google it’ that I would mistake Roald Dahl for an Australian. Clearly this is an example of that phenomenon where, if you like them enough, well, they must be Australian. Just like the Queen is.

I never said I was an expert on poetry. But I might become an expert on googling instead. This residency is bringing about learning in such unexpected places, mmm?

This week’s ill-fated poetry quiz was indeed a stanza out of Roald Dahl’s ‘The Three Little Pigs’ from the ‘Revolting Rhymes’ series. The winner of the covetted coffee is Adele, and she also goes into the Draw from the residency. Special mention goes to Alex and not just because his dad, David from Tutmut, pulled me up over Dahl’s citizenship. Maybe it was Dahl’s notorious, um…personality traits that convinced me he was Australian.

At any rate, I suspect I bamboozled the coffee fiends with that minor transgression of borders. And yes, I promise to just google it next time. If only to keep David from Tumut off my case…