Let’s Make Some Order in This Chaos

I haven’t felt like writing. My busy blog-posting indicates otherwise, except that I’ve mostly written about Real Life. The world of fiction is not a place I want to go now that it’s knocking on my door and popping into my e-mails and being re-posted on my social media.

Dystopia is one of my favorite subjects. I intend to write a science fiction and/or futuristic novel someday. Maybe I’ll do Skinwalkers or Since the Bombs Fell or “Open the Sky“… But, like I said, that future is here. It’s not so intriguing when I’m living it.

I think I assumed I’d not be alive during a post-apocalyptic scenario.

I definitely assumed I’d be fit, well-armed, well-stocked, and driving an army Jeep.

It’s not quite as awesome to be wearing pajamas, carrying around postpartum baby weight, caring for five children, and occasionally driving a minivan.

The day-to-day sitting around involved with Coronavirus is precisely why they never showed Jack Bauer using the bathroom in his 24 hour days.

white tissue paper roll on white wicker basket

Maybe if TP was in short supply in one of the episodes, they would have included a bathroom scene.

I do better in the midst of chaos; needing to grab that last Clorox wipe, save the child from uncertain school days, or stumble to the wall while the world shakes. When all is calm and all is bright, I stay awake as anxiety gnaws at my conscience. What if we get sick? Will the boys ever have school again? What, exactly, do we do in a stronger earthquake?

My husband says worrying does nothing. I say it’s all I can do. If I don’t remember to worry about it, then I am doing nothing. He then says something about the Serenity Prayer

Which helps me realize that waiting may be difficult, but it may be what we all need to do right now. Realizing this helps me realize I need a plan besides buyworrypanic. Realizing all of those things helps me realize I ought to accept the things I cannot change and write up a schedule for life and blogging.

It may be infrequent, but I’d like to include the following:

  1. Interviews with my friends, especially those who have published and wish to share their work(s).
  2. Book reviews of the books I will get myself to read, especially if I manage to read the work(s) my friends have published.
  3. More poetry.
  4. More fiction.
  5. Bad poetry, of course. I think we need it.
  6. Some creative projects outside of writing. I art on occasion. I could share more.
  7. Favorite books, music, art, people, whatever.

I never have time for me when the children are home all day, so my chance of daily posts is not very high unless I schedule ahead. Still, I need this outlet. Twofacebook may have a lot more people on it now, but it’s mostly chainmails and reposts. No one likes my informational statistics on COVID for some reason…

If you have ideas of other things I could include on the blog, let me know. If you would like to be interviewed, let me know. As always, thank you for joining me on…

Well, thank you for joining me on my blog, anyway.

—————-

Here’s the past week:
Wednesday, March 25: “Going Postal, II,” the second in my serial story about Ron the postman.

Friday, March 27: Wrote an update on the Coronavirus situation ’round here.

And, crowned the winner of the Weekly Terribly Poetry Contest. Congratulations to Ruth!

Saturday, March 28: Announced the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is Springtime, or Autumntime. PLEASE ENTER!

Monday, March 30: Posted just after midnight with another Coronavirus update.

And, shared Gary’s inspirational quote.

AND, wrote “Desert Dreams” for Carrot Ranch’s prompt

AND AND, visited the new Saddle Up Saloon and Poet Tree, where I was interviewed. Head on over to leave a poem from the prompt “off shoot.”

Tuesday, March 31: “Going Postal, III.”

And, wrote yet another Coronavirus update.

Wednesday, Date: Today.

I also posted on my motherhood site. I think. I’ve scheduled a few poems over there, like “Mother of Two” and “The Busy Person’s Poem.”

 

Photo Credit: Pexels and GIPHY

 

©2020 Chelsea Owens

WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 3/20/2020

Either we’re all feeling especially creative, or we’re all stuck inside our toilet paper forts with too much time on our hands. Not that I’m complaining, but this week’s judging took longer than usual because I received so many entries!

Which doesn’t mean there isn’t a winner. This week, it’s:

Stockpiling Against the Pandemic

by Tnkerr

They panicked the public with talk of the virus
The butcher was worried – his name was Cyrus
One night, when the store closed
He took all the bog rolls
Went home and confessed to a scroll of papyrus. A scroll of papyrus that he used as his journal and sometimes hid in the linen closet – on the top shelf under a bunch of pillow cases, unless he was keeping it under the bed, or in the garage; but then the police found it and he was arrested, went to court and got sent to jail… not for very long though (it was only toilet paper, after all)

-AND-

Stockpiling Against Worldwide Disaster

by Deb Whittam

bread, butter,
don’t care about the clutter
egg, cheese
oh, thank god a sneeze
I don’t want that terrible, low mortality, not as bad as the flu which has a vaccine and still kills more people but does not invoke stupidity, panic buying and food hoarding, disease

Congratulations, Tnkerr and Deb! You are the most terrible poets of the week!

These two won for their trick of expanding out that last line to terrible proportions, after poeming so spot-on and terribly about hoarding. They (and a couple others) stood out for using this element to make their contributions worse, particularly since everyone’s poems are so terrible this week they are quite good!

Give yourself a lift, and read through them all:

Ode to Bum Wipe

by Heather Dawn

While some are hoarding by the ton,
Others find no way to wipe their bum.
Trauma horrifying!
Dirty bottoms multiplying!
Someone please, help me find some!!

—–

Untitled piece

by Richmond Road

Hours before Armageddon
Down shopping aisles carefully treadin’
Just fillin’ my trolly
Promotin’ the folly
It’s not tears, it’s just fears that I’m spreadin’

—–

Untitled piece

by Richmond Road

Apocalypse on the horizon
Those toilet rolls so tantalizin’
A prize for the greedy.
No regard for the needy
It is mad. Sad. But so unsurprisin’

—–

No Gettin’ Out The House

by Obbverse

We’re stuck in quarantine for a fortnight,
Our essential supplies are running light,
‘Nuff food and water ain’t our issue,
We failed to stock a pile of toilet tissue;
We’ve gone from sittin’ pretty to sittin’ tight.

—–

Gravity Falls

by Peregrine Arc

There once was a store by the lee
That was fully stocked for everyone’s needs.
It had boondaggles, hoozits and comic sans font;
It had everything a lad or lass could possibly want!
But alas, it had one failing short: no toliet paper, so I’ll use me shirt.

—–

End of the world

by Lucy

“It is the end of the world”, someone chokes; there is a lull.
Stockpiling food for twenty years and toilet paper rolls,
But we’re all out—what do we do
Go out to Walmart, brawl with others like a zoo;
Then leave empty handed—outside, someone is selling them one hundred dollars per half roll!

—–

Wine not

by Doug Jacquier

The world is facing disaster
So stock up on tuna and pasta
Cache rolls for the loo
Store sanitising goo
And ensure your wine cellar’s vaster.

—–

Paperless society

by Doug Jacquier

Go on, kiss everyone in sight
Before we all fall down to the blight
Forget all that tucker
And give us a pucker
But clench your other end real tight.

—–

One flu over the cuckoo’s nest

by Doug Jacquier

There’s a man in DC called The Pres
He t-wee-ts, he pooh-poohs, and he says
It’s all something minor
Like everything from China
A few less old folk, who cares?

—–

Untitled piece

by Jon

Whoever could guess we would see
Fell days we could liken to these?
When we needed to go
But we found there was no
longer a supply of T.P.

—–

These Difficult Times

by Carolyn Cordon

Things to use to wipe your bum?
The number reaches quite a sum –
But lettuce leaf?
I’ll be brief …
Result not good, don’t tell my mum …

—–

Untitled piece

by Bryntin

There are empty shelves down at the store
idiots crashing their carts by the door
I would have been late
till I pulled out the 38
now there’s great stocks of bodies on their floor

—–

Untitled piece

by Bryntin

I’m getting a few extra things in
lots of meat and beans if they’re tinned
it was quite busy down there
until I coughed in the air
and the crowds miraculously thinned

—–

Untitled piece

by Bryntin

I’ve got my mask on so I’ll be OK,
got my sanitiser and various sprays
got my loo roll and lentils
and ammo to shoot mentals
should be alright for a couple of days

—–

Untitled piece

by Roberta Eaton Cheadle

Poverty makes stockpiling a farce

In some places it can’t come to pass

Money’s really much to tight

Sickness an everyday fight

No loo paper; we’ll just use grass

—–

Untitled piece

by Roberta Eaton Cheadle

If we’re sick we’re supposed to isolate

not a concept to which the poor can relate

When you live in a small tin roofed shack

and water and basic amenities you lack

an out of control virus will just devastate

—–

The Dilemma

by Matt Snyder

Bob has a bad case of the super awful really terrible squirt runs on the daily

With this unheard of shortage of TP, his drawers are becoming quite smelly

He just spent his last $500 bucks for a measly two mega rolls online

His package has arrived in the nick of time

too bad though that when he opened the box, it was alas, EMPTY…

—–

Bug Out Bags

by H.R.R. Gorman

***PG-13 Warning***

With a P-51 and a stash of old food,
One can hold out in style, lighten the mood.
But you’ll still feel alone
With no one to bone,
So be sure to bring tissues and lube.

—–

The hoarder’s charter

by Geoff LePard

‘It’s a risk,’ said the serial hoarder,
‘And I might cause civil disorder,
Buy buying up Frosties,
And making you crossties,
So maybe I’ll stick to cornflakes.’
Or
To hoard takes three things: there’s pluck
And a significant dollop of luck,
But between me and you
On top of those two
Is you really must not give a fig (other soft fruits are available until some silly sod has bought them all)

—–

Hoarding

by Joanne the Geek

I.

I thought this world crisis was a bit of a caper

and soon the long lines for goods would taper

but when I still go the store

there’s always so many more

all I’ve got left to eat is my stack of loo paper

II.

Due to the virus Bill hoarded beans

as stacks of them were within his means

but after eating so many cans

his butt alone could power vans

and he had to frequently wash his jeans

—–

Untitled piece

by Ritu Bhathal

A man in a fit of elation
Stockpiled like the rest of the nation
Well, bog roll he had
But it left him quite sad
When all the pasta gave him constipation!

—–

The wait

by Denny K

Co vid one nine
Is no friend of mine
I am quite a mess
Feeling the stress
Of social distance in the TP line

—–

Untitled piece

by Ellen Best

There was a a wee lass from Madrass
Who needed paper to wipe up her ass.
She looked in a shop ran around the block
Finally settled on her grandpappies sock.
Boom boom.

—–

Untitled piece

by Ruth Scribbles

Hoarding of stuff is tremendous
Mountains of things, stupendous
Toilet paper for me
And nothing for thee
The feeling is awesome, momentous

—–

Limerick Woes

by Kristian

I thought I’d try a Limerick,

It sounded fun, a lark, a kick,

but please take my advice

and always think twice

because now I’m feeling quite sick.

—–

Untitled piece

by Gary

Shelves stripped bare including the Gluten free
Load your boot with every single last frozen pea
You can keep your 10 year supply of toilet roll
Fill your trolley with all the Chicken casserole
But keep your pigging hands off my Yorkshire Tea

—–

Limericks for the Apocalypse

by Ilene

To avoid all the germs in the store
Gladys ate a bluebird and a boar
She washed down that pig
With an isolated swig
That socially infected her snout with a stout.

***PG-13 Warning.***

Traffic was so light yesterday
Officer Joe met his mistress to play
But his wife had a fever
And before he could leave her
He’d slipped his virus in her beaver.

—–

Thank you so much for brightening my week. I trust you had as much fun writing as I did reading. Come back tomorrow for next week’s prompt; we’ve got a potentially long road yet of more internet time together.

Tnkerr and Deb: Here’s a badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:

terrible-poetry-contest

©2020 The poets, and their respective poems.

 

Going Postal, I

Ron was just your average sort of guy: tallish, wideish, oldish, kindish. He drove his reliable old pickup with the reliable old hardtop around the neighborhood every day; often, he drove around several times a day.

Some of the residents talked to Ron. Most did not. Most didn’t notice him or his truck, despite its nearly always being full to bursting with their latest Amazon packages and Domino’s pizza coupons.

One day, Mrs. Hempsworth happened on Ron at the exact moment she went to retrieve her mail. Startled, she supposed she ought to make small talk. “Oh. Um. Hello.”

Ron didn’t look up from sorting his elasticized mail bundles into various slots, yet his voice sounded cheery. “Howdy.”

“Lovely day.”

“Oh, yes.”

Mrs. Hempsworth didn’t know what else to comment on, and cast about for a subject. Her eyes fell on his overstuffed vehicle. “Lots of packages.”

Ron stopped his shuffling and turned her direction. His pale blue eyes met her paint-lined browns. His gaze shifted to his truckload. Back to her. He blinked, surprised. “Yes.”

“Erm,” Mrs. Hempsworth fumbled. “Does it take you a while to deliver them all?”

Another blink. “Yes.”

“Oh.” She paused, out of her depth.

Ron helped. “‘Course, it’s been worse lately.”

Now she blinked. “Oh?”

“Yep.” Ron went back to sorting. “Everyone’s been orderin’ toilet paper off Amazon. It takes up too much space.”

She blushed, but the mail carrier’s white whispy hair was bent over a bin. He straightened, proferring a medium-sized package that weighed less than it appeared. Charmin was printed across the top.

“11259, right?”

She nodded and accepted her delivery without her realizing it. The man closed up the community mailbox, locked it with a key, picked up his empty bin, and headed back to his truck. “See ya,” he called, without looking back.

Mrs. Hempsworth watched the battered pickup drive away, the shifting packages within it sliding against the open windows of the hardtop. She clutched her toilet paper to her chest in a paranoid gesture, then relaxed. What did it matter that the mail carrier knew about her orders? It was his job, after all…

Continued at “Going Postal, II.”

 

©2020 Chelsea Owens

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest 3/14 – 3/20/2020

Hi. This is the part where I say, “Hi,” and mention that this is our 63rd time around the terrible poetry track.

Here is where I give some directions. I still like our mishmash of sources contest, à la Ern Malley, for a way to create terribly as well. Really, the trick is to write like you’ve never been taught how to do poetry.

Here are the specifics for this week:

  1. Topic: Stockpiling against a worldwide disaster, in limerick form.
  2. Length: A limerick. They’re five lines: AABBA, in anapestic meter.
  3. Rhyming: Yes. In AABBA anapestic meter format.
  4. Make it terrible! Got it? Make it terrible!! The world’s ending, after all!
  5. Rating: PG-13. This is the perfect time to panic …poetically.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (March 20) to submit a poem.

Use the form below if you want to be anonymous for a week.

If not, and for a more social experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments. Please comment if your pingback link doesn’t show up within a day.

Now’s the perfect time for levity. Give it a whirl.

 

There once was a dino named Ptery
Who loved to eat tree stars and berries.
Then, out of the blue,
Ptery saw rocks that flew;
Now, Ptery is becoming an evolutionary.