h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

In a restaurant with tropical décor

A fountain gurgles softly by the door,
As cockatoos sit sleeping on their roost.
A potted palm is anchored to the floor.
Canaries in a cage ask to be loosed.

She gazes at her menu, thinks a while,
Then looks around-where has the waiter gone?
He sees her, hurries over, gives a smile.
She says, "I'll have the 'Shrimp Soup Mallezon.'"

The waiter bows ad leaves. A parrot squawks.
A python dozes on a mural wall.
From somewhere comes the chiming of some clocks.
The food arrives-it took no time at all.

The soup is hot and steaming, thick, just right.
She says, "I must come back another night."

Next topic: Sunday in the park with a friend

In the park on Sunday with a friend

Come for a walk! Let's take a stroll
In Pangles Park*, where daisies smile,
And lemon lilies tall cajole
The nose. Then let us rest awhile

Beneath the shade of copper beech,
Admiring old General Sneevus,
Well-prepared to give a speech,
But if he did, well, who'd believe us?

Then, in the fountain let us wade.
Goldfish dart to 'scape our feet.
Distant music's being played
From the bandstand down the street.

Hick'ry smoke wafts through the air,
Whispering, "We've got food to share…"

Next topic: Flowering vines on an arbor

Flowering vines on an arbor

The tufts of moss grow here and there between
The cobblestones that line the garden path,
And overhead the arbor arch is green
As we go forth to see Diana's bath.

Bright dots of red announce the roses' reign,
While purple trumpets sing clematis' praise.
And, here and there, the morning glories gain
The upper hand, to seek the bright sun's rays.

The honeysuckle's gone, the lilacs too.
No more do iris queens sit on their throne.
Petunias, humble, blink in red and blue,
And lemon lilies more than hold their own.

We stop a moment in the arbor's shade,
Then off we go, refreshed, to happ'y wade.

Next topic: Storms

Flowering vines on an arbor

The tufts of moss grow here and there between
The cobblestones that line the garden path,
And overhead the arbor arch is green
As we go forth to see Diana's bath.

Bright dots of red announce the roses' reign,
While purple trumpets sing clematis' praise.
And, here and there, the morning glories gain
The upper hand, to seek the bright sun's rays.

The honeysuckle's gone, the lilacs too.
No more do iris queens sit on their throne.
Petunias, humble, blink in red and blue,
And lemon lilies more than hold their own.

We stop a moment in the arbor's shade,
Then off we go, refreshed, to happ'ly wade.

Next topic: Storms

The storm

Where once the friendly sky was calm and blue,
Now scudding clouds stampede in fitful pique.
And flower beds, once brilliant in their hue,
Now cringe in darkest shadow, pale and meek.

A wind so strong it rattles ancient trees,
and spatters rain at random to and fro,
is met with rumbling thunder. One foresees
the shocking brilliance of the lightning's glow.

The lashing rain its anger must release.
No possible resistance can it meet.
But soon the drops grow fewer, then they cease.
The sky is blue again. The air is sweet.

A rainbow weaves its magic in the sky,
as distant fleeing clouds wave their goodbye.


Next topic: What we found in Grandma's attic

You are active, Paul!

"You are active, Paul!"

in Grandma's attic


rainy autum days, hues of golden brown
we climb the stairs, ignoring grannies frowns
Disturbing the dust in the dark we look
Old faded paintings, curtains bags and books
delving through clutter, looking in corners
A shape emerges learching towards us!

Starteling back at the shape we can see
A hidden dead body, no its a tree!
With tinsil and lights a fairy on top
Then we find a box with cobwebs on top


Opening the box inside we soon find
some old photographs but we just don't mind
later downstairs with the photos we found
Grandma begins their history to expound

Next topic: A supprise party.

I've been sent round the corner to the shops,
A lame excuse if ever I heard one.
Their transparent requests, I saw straight through:
It's clear to me they only want me gone.
In the shop now; what was it they wanted?
Something mundane; a tin of this or that.
Which is cheapest? Don't think I really care,
Or if they even want me to come back.
I'm walking back now, heading up the street,
The tin I carry heavy as my heart.
Approaching the door now; what is that noise?
I think I'll shed my load, and then depart.
But what is this? A banner, with my name?
A party? Oh, my grief has been in vain!

Next topic: modern art

Modern art

Small heads on large round bodies, playing tag.
A clutch of orbs in mid-air, playing house.
Some jagged lines upon a dirty rag.
A creature, part banana, part gray mouse.

Which picture for my wall? What should I buy?
Whatever did that artist mean to say?
Is that potato skiing through a pie,
Or is it just a snowman baling hay?

The seascapes mingle sandy tans with greens.
Then there are garden florals, never cheap.
The brightly hued abstracts might fit my means,
But are they really art, and are they deep?

The gallery is closing for the day,
But there are others open down the way.

Next topic: Waiting in line (in a bank or shop, or whatever)

Alright - who was it then?

Wasn't me!
But what can they have said about modern art that was "THAT" bad?
Maybe the moderators don't like Modern art?

Why on earth did they moderate that one? Ah well...

Are you alright 2legs? Did you get back in one piece?

Waiting in line in the supermarket

I filled my cart in seven minutes flat,
But who knows when I'll get to the cashier?
Ahead, I hear the bawling of a brat.
The scanner's slow, or so it would appear.

I'm fourth in line, and patron number one
Has just one item--but the price is wrong!
The supervisor comes to help, but none
Of her solutions moves the line along.

The next one passes smoothly through, until
It's time to pay. She searches through her purse.
She's only got one hundred dollar bill.
It's not allowed. She starts to rant and curse.

Much later, I'm at home. As I unpack,
I see I've missed some things, and must go back.


Next topic: The things I like the best

The things I like the best

A walk along the river after dark,
While all around me, crickets serenade.
The virtuoso singing of a lark.
A piano bar where jazz is being played.

The smell of spruce that tells me: mountains near.
Some frozen yogurt further down the road.
A mountain stream that hurries, cool and clear;
It whispers: "Come and wade; put down your load."

In Autumn, choosing pumpkins in a field,
Then nibbling apple crisp with pumpkin pie.
The gold and crimson leaves stand out, revealed
Against the clear blue background of the sky.

In summer's wretched heat, in winter's ice,
It helps to know that some of life is nice.

Next topic: A dessert tray at a fancy restaurant

When I said 'Who was it then?' I meant who was it that posted the moderated sonnet!

Emily:

It came and went before I had a chance
to see it. Maybe the poster decided it
wasn't ready after all, and yikesed it.

Or maybe it was a joker who goes around
posting off-topic posts at random, knowing
that an alert moderator will remove them.

No - it was your modern art sonnet - it got moderated for no apparent reason... ah well.

Good thing I kept a copy of it in my "Best sonnets" file.