new style
I didn’t run today because of rain
but deny strongly it was ’cause of pain
that dogged my hips and knee so much last May
and left my marathon in disarray
Notice anything yet? That’s right, no more prose, finely-crafted or otherwise, today I’m experimenting with the medium of poetry, or poesy as you might say if you were the kind of kid who got beaten up on the play-ground.
This has been inspired by a lovely book by Stephen Fry with, ironically for such a well written book, a name that is possibly the worst pun this side of Fleet street, The Ode Less Travelled. But, moving on:
Another story caught my eye today
Cockroaches, pigeons in a restaurant
in Chinatown. I’m terrified to say
I’ve had lunch there a few times and I thought
“it’s not so bad” (including Peking Duck
cooked in a kitchen smothered in black muck).
Whooo, this is hard work, this verse business. If you have some experience with this stuff, you’ll recognise the two snatches of doggerel above as iambic pentameter, admittedly of a fairly low standard and arguably slumping into the trochaic late in the piece.
Poetry, as you might expect from a pastime mostly concerned with words, has some wonderful jargon. It’s far better than running with its “intervals” and “fartlek” (ugly word). How about this:
alexandrine: A line of iambic hexameter, typically found in English as the last line of a Spenserian Stanza or similar pentametric verse arrangement
So now you know. Also:
anacreontics: Short-lined (often seven-syllable trochaics), celebrating erotic love, wine and pleasure.
and
ictus: the unit of stress within a foot
Use them at your next party, I’m sure you’ll impress your friends and acquaintances. Just be careful - ictus isn’t about your actual foot. It’s a poetic term.
It’s all very exciting. Tomorrow I might try something in the heptameter vein, or possibly hexameter or even haiku. Perhaps even some Gerard Manley Hopkins-style sprung rhythm, although I’ll probably only manage about one post a year, and that would be pretty much unintelligible.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: poetry



I have to laugh at your attempts at rhyme,
What a classic way to pass the time!
Your dicombobulous use of words,
Appreciated only by us nerds!!
Keep up the good work on the running front,
That marathon is still in the hunt!
Perhaps your verse can balance your stride,
To keep your pace fast and wide.
“attempts” she says and reels off rhyme,
I wonder where she finds the time.
My spell check thinks she’s made a mess:
“dicombobulous” needs an “s”.
LOL
When I clicked on the link to the restaurant story I thought it was going to be the one in Box Hill (name escapes me) - next to the TAFE and train line. They have got busted for cockroaches that many times I’m surprised they’re not closed down!
I tried to be poetic,
But I was just no good,
My efforts were more pathetic,
And my rhymes were just awful.
I wonder if they were using cardboard in the “pork” buns like some place in Hong Kong I read about last week. Seriously cardboard soaked in water and flavoured with meat fat, Mmmmm, yummy!
Hmmm, someone has some time on his hands!