Hop on the Bus, Gus

It's Monday. Oubliette harmony has been restored as our wandering other half has returned from his epic Odyssey in the US.

We have a poem for the Poetry Bus. This weeks theme - as decided by La Niamh - is 'Confusion'. Quite frankly this left me with a multitude of options. A rich, rich seam in the Oubliesphere.

Just take yesterday for example.

We all trooped into town for a bit of brunch to celebrate himself coming home. We chose a lovely little pancake/crepe place on Dawson street for our eats. As Mr Oub was up ordering, a nice old man asked me if he could sit at our table. Part of my poor little brain whispered to me that this nice old man was in fact a world famous poet, but sadly, the dominant, confused part of my brain won out and I told him to take a hike.

When Mr Oub returned to the table he exclaimed 'Hey, did you see world famous poet Brenden Kennelly?'

Sigh.

Y'know, there had been enough room at the table. He could have sat down. I could have had a fascinating conversation with the man and learnt so much. Instead I sent him packing. He had to sit at a table outside. It was kinda cold in Dublin yesterday. Had I mentioned he was old. And a famous poet?



As I said, there are so many, many areas in my life that I could have looked to for inspiration for this weeks task.

This is what I came up with.



Cartographical Confusion

It's a complete cliche
but I can't find my way
when presented with a map.
I'm completely crap,
trapped in a car,
with it's folded layers upon my lap.
They may as well be scribbles,
those infernal inky dribbles
My ordinance arse!
My little lost elbow!
I just can't follow
we're not happy bedfellows
Just where in the hell is
feckin' Portobello?!
I'll take a wild guess
No, get me a GPS
then there's some hope
of me striving
arriving
at
the
correct,
designated,
confounded,
address.



.