…whimsy~mimsy that is…didn’t think anyone would take her seriously…
Hah! That’ll show her!
I was reminded of a game that we used to play as obnoxious teens. We would go into a grocery store and find three of the most disparate, unrelated and incongruous (and often suggestive) items and buy them just to see the look on the checker’s face, while we tried to keep a straight face.
I had even more fun responding to mimsy’s prompt.
So, what do we call this Three-Word Incongruously Themed Poem Prompt Challenge?
“The Goofy Grocery List”?
“You Want Me To Do What?”?
How about “Three Nuts and a Squirrel”?
Yeah, I kind of like that…
So the idea: Make a poem on the stated theme (the Squirrel) and include the three words (I think nouns work best) or ideas based on them (the Nuts).
So here’s mine. Three words. One theme. Limitless possibilities….
The Words:
Truck
Safe (the object)
Crust
The Theme:
Something Sensuous or Romantic (…let’s just roll with it…)
So there you have it. Stick the Squirrel in the cage that is your Mind, chuck in the Nuts, and see what breaks free!
Please post the results or links to them in the comments below.
Good luck and Have Fun!
Ooh. I’m thinking 🙂
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Pingback: Cherry pie – Challenge prompt – From Johnny Crabcakes :) « whimsy~mimsy
Cherry pie
Grandma held no truck
with that romantic nonsense,
she said. All that flowery
lovey-dovey bologna
didn’t make the world go round.
Hard work, a hot meal
every night, and a way with a pie crust
would cement things together
for the 50 year Anniversary
Spot of Honor in the Sunday
section of the paper.
But I remember hiding
under the table cloth
late one summer night
when Grandpa came in late
scented sweat and cut hay,
a sweltering Saturday night.
Grandma, her hands wrist deep in pie crust,
and nape sprinkled with ringlets,
tendrils escaped from the bun
holding back her waist-length hair.
I should tell you, his hands left grease marks
against the blue gingham of her waist,
and her sigh echoed in the stillness of the kitchen,
competing only with the hum of the Whirlpool
and their shuffling feet.
Her head tipped back
onto his shoulder,
his lips tasting her ear, neck,
as her hands hung flour coated,
suspended motionless, in mid-air.
They slowly moved in a circle,
his hand navigating
between the little pearl
buttons, the tie at her waist,
to cup her breast over layers
of strictly starched white cotton
before sliding away
to clean up at the sink.
I still remember now
the shine of the tin on the pie safe as
Grandpa savored every bite
of his dessert at Sunday dinner, and
how Grandma’s cheeks flushed
as he proclaimed
that he married her
for how well she baked
that fantastic cherry pie.
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This is beautiful. I love the sudden switch from lust to the kitchen sink!
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Thanks! Isn’t that how real life tends to be though? You have these moments that are fantastic, and … then you have to go unclog the toilet. 🙂
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Haha – completely – especially once you have kids.
Oh baby, oh yeah, you’re the best (AARGGHH PANIC DUVET GYMNASTICS) what’s that sweetie, you’ve got a headache!
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absolute beautiful piece of expression
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from lust to ecstacy excellent
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so sweet… and naughty, too. beautifully done!
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the beauty of play within living
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So when I started reading yours Mimsy, I started to feel ashamed of the dirty piece of trash that I wrote, and then I started to blush and say “Oh, My! Why Gramps and Grammy! You devils!” and then I read on and now I’m ashamed again (well, a little)…
What a lovely piece about family, nostalgia, secrets, growing up…SO much to read about here…
Thank yOu–
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Pingback: Desperate Angel | A Prayer Like Gravity
Here’s mine….such as it is….
You know what I will do
and
you know you will not stop me.
I will
release the fragile bird that you keep
locked up tight in
that cage under the thin
crust of your self control
because
I know how to crack
that safe and I know what hides there
and how it longs to be
free of its soft prison. I hear that treasure
ticking and trembling and I know how to twist
and tweak those dials,
how to drive my tongue like a truck
down
the furrows of your flesh into that
deepest of valleys where hides
the master switch,
releasing
that desperate
angel of your
ecstacy.
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yowsers
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*{blushing shamefully}*
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oh no do not be shameful. I love a good blushing
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Hmmm, the challenge is still open….care to join?
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whimsy mimsy was sooo very good. How long do you keep it open?
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She’s definitely a hard act to follow. It’s all been pretty informal so…indefinitely?
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let me scratch my ass and get back to you on that 🙂 my brain is sleepy. ha
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Yeah. I’m currently playing candy land….
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oh my that is the game that never ever ever ends
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Wow, this is FANTASTIC. You guys would be a tough act to follow. Mind if I play along?
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Oh please do! The more, the merrier!
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Yay–will do!
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Ok….water…water!!!
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Yes, I needed to fan myself a bit. Those crab cakes are laces with Siracha…
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Take it from the voice of experience…lust and chilis don’t mix…
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LOL–ouch. I cannot, will not ask how you found that out 😉
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yeah…it wasn’t pretty…ALWAYS wash your hands…I especially should have known better…my secret other life is “chef”!
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Aha! Kyle from Mew Tube on here has a rather ***hot*** paragraph or two about the dangers of mixing passion and hot peppers…you might find it worth a giggle or two.
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Gorgeous and a bit dirty – perfect!
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Filth can be glorious! Thanks–
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holy….!!! now i need to step outside to cool off… wow.
great write!
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Susan kindly notified me of this – so I shall give it a ‘crack’ also. Be warned I am not in the same league as many of you are..but I shall try damnit! 🙂
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Awesome! And “in the same league”? You mean the Smut League?
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Possibly JCC..probably 😉
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Pingback: They made me do it (three nuts and a squirrel) | Susan Daniels Poetry
You guys are tough to follow, but here goes…
They made me do it (three nuts and a squirrel)
this magic of us
we own is nothing tangible
but priceless
and if I could
I would not hide it
in a safe
because
it would not be close enough
no, I would be
the old woman
who stuffs her mattress
with a life savings
not trusting banks
or armored trucks
and needing immediacy–
the intimacy of knowing
what is cherished
is close to my skin daily
and almost touched
that woman I could become,
hoarding this sweetness
understands some things are known
and cannot be learned–
the way the skater in February
skimming that crust of ice
trusts it is just thick enough
to carry the weight
I give it, I know
you will carry me
it is a matter of feeling
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Amazing Susan, truly.
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Jen, thank you. I just read yours and think it is marvelous.
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There you go again finding the rhymes…crust and trust and just…what a beautiful piece.
“Just thick enough/to carry the weight/ I give it,” a Glorious ending.
(took the liberty of fixing that onosecond issue…)
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Oh, thank you–you are a prince among men….
Glad you liked this–you and WM just totally rocked out the prompt already…so beautifully done, by both of you!
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I love it! that last stanza…the crust of ice…that is perfect!
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WM, thank you. I am awestruck by all you drew so beautifully into your poem. Pure magic in those lines.
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Thank you. From you, that’s a real compliment. You tend to do that all the time, you know. 🙂
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oh, gosh, now I am blushing That is so sweet of you to say, and you know what–you do it too. Love your poetry.
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Odd–how did I end up not following you? I thought I WAS. Problem easily fixed. Somehow you dropped out of my reader. You’re back now 😉
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“no, I would be
the old woman
who stuffs her mattress
with a life savings
not trusting banks
or armored trucks”
… just beautiful, Susan!
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Miriam, thank you!
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Her dress translucent against that wane of the moon
he had been driving the truck all day
and he was tired and he was hungry
only having virtually a piece of crust at lunch to keep him going
on his arduous trek of the day
but she was inviting him to lay with her on the grass in the back yard
the kids were asleep and she was encouraging
luring him and sleep would not come easily now
he smiled as he approached her noticing the diamond pendant necklace he had bought for her birthday had been retrieved from the safe and this and the flimsy lace dress was all she wore
no tiredness didn’t play a part any longer he had to have her there and then on the grass in the moonlight
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Ohhhh–Jen, this is smutty AND sweet. You bridged it.
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That sums me up sweet and smutty 😉 Thanks Sus.
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😉
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Yes–bridged beautifully…though not quite up t the level of Smut that I’ve come to expect from….oh, yeah….that was me…
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don’t tempt me there’s a fair amount of smut still lurking 😉
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Haha – we have been good at tossing the smut out. Maybe YOU should be dropping the next 3 nuts challenge then. 🙂
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I think I may just do that Mimsy 😉
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But seriously–I love how this opens and closes with both the dress and the moon–really lovely.
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Yes, I can see its luminescence…feel its translucence…
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🙂 Glad I have followed you JCC
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An entirely mutual feeling Mum!
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Thank you I am quite chuffed that you say that 🙂 Got the warm and fluffies now.
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OOh so you are – why thank you 🙂
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It’s so great to watch the evolution of your writing – in just days you’ve transformed, while remaining entirely ‘Rambly’. Can’t wait to see where you go next 🙂
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OMG I am sooo taken back by what you wrote..my blush is hidden over the seas … thank you that means so much *hugs for the complimentary Panda*
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mmm very good. on the grass under the moon.. very nice indeed
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a great write… if i stay around you guys for too long, i should probably keep the cold shower running.
well played… what a great poem. 😉
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Pingback: Old and new – A Poem « ruleofstupid
Bit late to the party – but here we are anyway 🙂
Old and New
I had no truck with romance and fluff
Call me a crusty old gust
of yesterdays stuffy huff
if you must
There are gambles we can make
but where the heart is at stake
I played it safe
I’d had my share of aches
and desires to slake
but squirrelled them away
Until she came from the grey
and for brief years she stayed
to chip my walls away
I lay with her form as it grew
To become the only
shape of love that I knew
And my forlorn acorn of lust
once scorned grew to an undauntable
oak of us
She the frame of life explained
My veins contained
the love we made
She my sight, my reason why
My strength to fight
My air supply
She all too temporary real
Still fills my arms, I can feel
Her gone
Even now more real than anyone
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I liked it – I loved the 6th & 8th stanza… lovely Mr. P even though you were the late comer you still get browny points 😉
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Thanks Rambly – But can I have Brownie points (browny sounds a bit poo!!)
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Can I coo over this some more–you are wonderful, Panda–even with all your scatological references, or perhaps because of them 😉
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🙂 talking of poop at my house just means you’ve become part of the family!
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LOL, mine too–my son is 6 and thinks it is the funniest stuff in the world.
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My 4 are 13-21, and they still do. 🙂
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Some things are never grown out of 😉
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I make my sweet poetry look sweeter by being so foul around it!
But honestly, your compliments mean a lot to me, even if I don’t know what to do with them – being all British and autistic and all 😕
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Aw, Panda-Mike–just say “bollocks.” I will know you mean “thanks.” 😉
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Arseholes!
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Oh, now stop with the sweet talk, you are making me blush!
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Okay, I’ll try some dirty talk instead…
Willies!! (hehehehe)
*runs to hid behind sofa*
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ROFL!!!
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oops didn’t check my grammar …again 😉
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and how stupid of me to ONLY realise now hours later that I didn’t do a poem as instructed – apologies folks 😦 but I have set another Challenge 🙂
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How so? You wrote something lovely – the “rules” are loosely followed – as are our lips and thoughts. lol Very nice poem you posted – who needs rules 🙂
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Yeah, rules are for fools. (or something like that…) And your Poem Rules!
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Bless ya cotton socks JC and ‘Fanks’ 🙂
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I thank you kindly Mims 🙂
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this is so beautiful… truly a marvelous piece!
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Pingback: 3 nuts and a Squirrel Challenge Prompt | Ramblings From A Mum
Pingback: A journey through a body – poem and challenge « ruleofstupid
Pingback: They Made Me Do It (three nuts and a squirrel ? what?) « UnfetteredBS
Fancy Free
Take me
for a ride
hard and fast
in your
beat up old
Ford pick-up
truck
drive me
with your weathered
brown leather jacket
washed blue levis
painted on that long
lean lanky mass
thick wavy black hair
cigarette hanging out
of your sexy mouth
devilish
twinkling eyes
gathering,
carrying me
on a
delightful
jumpin’ joy~ride
destination unknown
fancy free
stop
rapid pulse
stop
tendering my
heart within
my protected safe
securely ensconced
encompassed
my inner wealth,
the treasure
guarded deeply,
encrusted within
the cold dark steel
washing, wishing away
the combination
of love and promise
fancy free~wheelin’
down the highway of life
1 4 3 7
click click
right left right
peak, delve
inside
discovering
one fragile porcelain vase
one yellow rose
one scripted note with
three simple weighted words
love forever please
cracked…
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Passionate and full of tension…I can’t help but think of the word “release” when I read “please”…
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release is freeing and fanciful
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as mr. crabcakes said, i love the tension in this. great style of writing – wonderful.
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Pingback: Mimsy, What Have We Done?! | A Prayer Like Gravity
Pingback: The nuts and a squirrel – The infinite poetry challenge! « ruleofstupid
Pingback: Release (Three Nuts and a Squirrel) « Another Wandering Soul
… it seems i have a lot of catching up to do. still have to go visit ramblungsfromamum and the Panda if i’m not mistaken… 😉
here’s mine:
http://anotherwanderingsoul.wordpress.com/2012/12/31/release-three-nuts-and-a-squirrel/
thank you for the invite to the party – i am loving this…
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Ah, yes–I believe those are the next two stops on this crazy poem-crawl…
Welcome aboard!
Panda’s still got me stumped…
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yep it’s a tough one… indeed
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Pingback: Love missed but found – Poem inspired by a prompt | Stephen Kellogg's Blog
Pingback: Truck, Safe, Crust – Poem based on a prompt | Stephen Kellogg's Blog
Pingback: New Poetry challenge « ruleofstupid
great fun – I have something I’ve already written and published, but fits in here nice (oo-errrr):
when in Belgium do as the chocolates do
they’re bad for my heart
but anyway
I enjoyed the red-glazed heart
with its white-flat base nature
one bite and the fondant melted free
then the Green wad of marzipan
on the dark praline bed
suffusing with each mulch
then the block corrugated about and
glazed flat top and bottom (apart from the nut observation-bubble on top)
breaks easy like an impossible heli-carrier with all its intricacies inside
and lastly another heart wrapped dark brown with white topping
crushed by sheer force of tongue this time
but soft nougat nevertheless
all gone
it was enough but I
look around for more anyway and see
Carol’s legs resting on the bed curving
slightly at the top into white panties
and flat belly tanned with fondue sides above the panties
something
good for both our hearts
notes about ‘when in Belgium do as the chocolates do’ (which Silver Birch thought was too ‘racy’ for them!): the author has been told repeatedly that he has high cholesterol – he has to watch his intake; he doesn’t wholly believe it (another instance of old Grand Daddy Science finding something else it can count, and froth-at-the-mouth Pharmaceutical Industry seeing yet another market opportunity to create); Carol is his wife of 34 years whom he has grown to love better each year since he learned to stop taking himself so seriously (… funny, that!); they had a short holiday in Ghent in 2013.
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