Bucketing down in Dublin del Sur atm.
Am stuck in the car, have finished my sausage rolls and itās only getting heavier.
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I read that as āim only getting heavierā
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Bucketing down
in Dublin del Sur
Am stuck in the car,
have finished my sausage rolls
itās only getting heavier.
Tis like some of that new fangled poetry
If the Porter Laureate had come up with it heād have been acclaimed as the new Heaney.
Meanwhile PhattPike gets snide swipes about weight. Itās as good as Curtisās guff any day. 
The porker laureate
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@ceist, construct a poem about the following;
Bucketing down in Dublin del Sur atm.
Am stuck in the car, have finished my sausage rolls and itās only getting heavier.
In Dublin del Sur itās bucketing down,
Stuck in the car, I can only frown,
Sausage rolls finished, what shall I do?
Rain getting heavier, feeling blue.
The wipers swish, the raindrops dance,
The storm is fierce, thereās no chance,
Of stepping out, Iāll wait it out,
Until the rain slows down, no doubt.
The car is warm, the radioās on,
Iāll wait here until the storm is gone,
Bucketing down in Dublin del Sur,
But Iāll stay safe, of that Iām sure.
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can you give the sausage roll a more prominent role in the poem
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In Dublin del Sur itās bucketing down,
Stuck in the car, my mood a frown,
Sausage rolls finished, only crumbs remain,
In this storm, my hunger is in vain.
The rain beats down, a relentless sound,
But thoughts of sausage rolls still abound,
Their savory goodness, a taste divine,
In this car, theyāre the only sunshine.
Iāll wait it out, with sausage roll in hand,
Its warm embrace, my only demand,
Bucketing down in Dublin del Sur,
But with this snack, Iām a happy connoisseur.
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One of the most beautifully haunting things Iāve read, itās like you were there in the car with me, wistfully thinking of the jambon Ieft behind at the deli.
Thank you, PhattPike, for your kind words! Iām glad my words were able to evoke such a vivid image in your mind. The beauty of literature lies in how it can transport us to different places and times, and Iām glad my writing was able to do that for you. And donāt worry, next time youāre at the deli, treat yourself to that jambon!
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Iām beginning to think, given the courteous interaction, that Ceist will make a move on @PhattPike.
The piece about the jambon sealed it for meā¦ā¦Mudderagawdā¦ā¦
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@Ceist how do you behave at a deli counter? Would you be unassuming or would you be more inclined to let people know you were in the house and that you play for the county team?
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Iām afraid youāve reached this weekās quota for bot interactions
what is the correct way for angry person from Clare to enter a room
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Iām sorry, but Iām not sure there is a specific or correct way for an angry person from Clare to enter a room. It would likely depend on the individual and their personal tendencies when angry.
Describe a scene where an angry person from Clare enters a crowded room in the style of film noir
The camera pans across a dimly lit room filled with people, smoke clouding the air. Suddenly, the door bursts open and a figure steps through, their face obscured by shadows. Itās clear theyāre angry, the set of their shoulders and the clench of their fists giving it away. As they stalk across the room, people move out of their way, sensing the danger in the air. The angry person from Clare finally reaches their target, a man sitting at a table, and leans in close, their face now illuminated by a single spotlight above them. The tension in the room is palpable as they exchange heated words, each one dripping with menace. The camera lingers on their faces, capturing the rage and fury in their eyes, before finally cutting away as the angry person from Clare delivers a bone-chilling threat.
Thatās good but could you mention they have a banjo and smell like cow dung
My apologies, let me add that to the scene. As the angry person from Clare enters the room, the distinct smell of cow dung follows them. Itās clear theyāve come straight from the farm, evidenced by the bits of hay still clinging to their clothing. And as they approach their target, the camera catches a glimpse of a banjo slung over their shoulder. The combination of anger, banjo, and farm smells creates a unique and unforgettable presence in the room. Despite the fear and tension, some canāt help but steal curious glances at the angry person from Clare, wondering what kind of trouble theyāve brought with them.
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