Poetry Bus the report

Twasn't the best of prompts,I'll give ye that. A toughie it turned out to be,what the feck was I thinking, in me Irish blog olympics week an all?

I get most of my best lines on the cusp of sleep lying in bed (or on the floor) , sometimes maybe even the gist of a short story and I always think Janey Mac, that's brilliant , I'll bish-bash-bosh that out in the morning, fame and fortune will be mine.Then morning comes (or afternoon ) invariably by which time, of course , it has evaporated into the ether like the steam off a cow's moonlit piss .

But this one 'She was wearing Stella MaCartney,I was drinking Stella Artois' lasted the night.Probably because it was really rubbish.I say rubbish but the other one that stuck was 'I've got an itch in me throat, I've had a scratch of me scrote' -So count yourselves lucky.

Poems are like children, you raise them but then ya gotta let them go. They're your's to have, but not to keep.They have lives of their own.If people love them don't get too big headed and if people hate them , don't take it too hard, they are your's but they are not YOU.

I got two comments of polar opposites on my poem this week, one I loved that told me exactly what I was hoping, the other precisely what I didn't want to hear.But which was correct, either? Neither/ Both? Who knows?

Ya gotta just do your own thing, sing your own song. If you like it ,then stick with it. Be the judge. Sometimes you've gotta keep singing the same song till people like it, other times you've really gotta find a new one, but knowing which to do might take a lifetime to find out.There's the rub, and there's the fun.

You can't control what people read into them either.Ted Hughes said that poets build houses, but it's up to people how they live in them.That said , I have to point out (Kat!) that there were no wives battered in the course of me pome and Mrs EEjit as is, and Miss EEjit as was , is not, and never will be (prosibly)* a punchbag in real life either!

Even a prompt has a life of it's own I really didn't see the slapstick coming.But variety, the spice of life, that's one of the reasons I love The Bus.I can't wait each week to see where we are going! There was multicoloured threads of humour and there was doggerel, there was mad and crazy rhyme, but there was other stuff woven as well, ecclectic hardly does it justice.But mucho thanks to everyone that took the time and talent to join in with a poem or a comment.

Happy St Patrick's Day to all.

Ps. St Patrick if you're up there/out there/ in Aldi, come back, we need you, you left the worst snakes behind, the bishops, the politicians, the bankers, the lawyers..........

* 'Prosibly' A word I invented to cover the space between 'possibly' and 'probably', but slightly closer to the latter.