Tap-Along

[Wjames]

Bottle’s become microphones,
grandma thinks she’s Cher;
limbo dancing nieces flail
but grandpa’s unaware.
 
Napping with a drink in hand,
his snores conduct the beat;
my voice is like a crocodile’s,
so I just move my feet.

[ajcohen613]

Bottle’s become microphones,
grandma thinks she’s Cher;
limbo dancing nieces flail
but grandpa’s unaware. Whole stanza is pretty funny. I imagine this familial scenario is probably relatable for somebody on here.
 
Napping with a drink in hand,
his snores conduct the beat;
my voice is like a crocodile’s, A crocodile's voice? Interesting..though I wonder what a crocodile actually sounds like.
so I just move my feet. Because your voice is like a crocodile's, you default to moving your feet? 

Funny poem. Only a few questions, as mentioned in the crit.

[Wjames]

Thanks for reading guys, the last two lines could definitely be improved; I think I just wanted to finish the poem, so I wrote down two lines that sort of fit. I'll try and work on this one over the next little while.

[71degrees]

Bottle’s become microphones,
grandma thinks she’s Cher;
limbo dancing nieces flail
but grandpa’s unaware.
 
Napping with a drink in hand,
his snores conduct the beat;
my voice is like a crocodile’s,
so I just move my feet.

Nothing earth shattering here, but FUN read. I am forever drawn to Shel Silverstein when I need a lift. Thanks for posting.

[somnium]

"His snores conduct the beat" is this made to make me think it is the Grandpa's dream? I just do not see how a sleping Grandpa's snores can conduct the beat.. lost me here.

[Wjames]

Thanks for reading guys, glad you liked it 71; no it's not supposed to be Grandpa's dream (why would he be snoring in his own dream?). It was just because most snores have a regular rhythm, which the songs were then constructed (or, deconstructed) to fit.

[somnium]

Oh I see. I just confused the knowledge for a minute. By bad

[Bunx]

Really liked the flow and the meter of this poem. Also the subject matter was quite uplifting reminds me of good times hanging out with my extended family. Also loved the universal imagery aka: the slipping grandpa nursing a drink. Poem was definitely entertaining and uplifting. The only thing I would/could suggest is maybe extending the poem and the story. I think it has alot of potential even one more stanza wrapping up the poem could be good, but that is up to you! Love the poem as is

[MikaelHeller]

A fine little piece. I actually had to look up what a crocodile sounds like, so I learned something too.
The last line of the poem is its weakest (in my opinion), though I'm not sure as to how one would edit it.
I disagree with the previous poster in that this poem would require another stanza; I think it achieves what it sets out to do.

[Wjames]

Thanks for reading, and sharing your thoughts guys, I'm glad you liked it.

[Rustymetal]

This is a fun little poem. You could almost hear it as a kids song or an add for something. I bet there are a whole cast of stanzas up there in your family tree. I don't mind the voice like a crocodile line, its quirky.

[RiverNotch]

Lovely read. I've just a tiny problem with punctuation, though. I think the third line should be separated from the fourth by a comma,  the first from the second by a colon, [maybe] the fifth from the sixth with a colon, too, and bottles shouldn't be possessive (if it's not, it is sort of weird that one bottle became a whole load of mics) 
Bottle’s become microphones,
grandma thinks she’s Cher;
limbo dancing nieces flail
but grandpa’s unaware.
 
Napping with a drink in hand,
his snores conduct the beat;
my voice is like a crocodile’s,
so I just move my feet.

[Jimster41]

Yeah this one is funny. I like it. I have to think about the fact I got what a crocodile sounds like right off. Like when you were a kid and you would slow down a note as much as you possibly could, make your vocal chords tick, maybe just to irritate the crap out of your sister. And I definitely got that internal state of mind of the viewer, the difficult but happy decision to hold that air in and just move that knee on up and down, get that heel tapping. Cause you try and sing after all those smokes they are all going to look at you and it's going to be bad, because you are bad - that niece isn't hot at all is she.

The first time I read it  I clipped "fail" from "flail", partly because "flail" is awkward phonetically to me and partly because I've seen too much YouTube, but that word makes this line too sticky to be very vivid. But then "fail" seemed out of place - that said I wanted some more pieces between this line and "Grandpa's unaware".

It definitely evokes a mashup of places and images for me.

Rereading, I think "become microphones" is little bit weaker than it might be - not concrete enough to image and not abstract enough to ponder (for sure). I like "grandma thinks she's Cher" and the direct rhythm in this and "grandpa's unaware". It occurs to me that it's also funny if you just remove the nieces line

"Bottle for a microphone
grandma think's she's Cher
Grandpa's unaware
..."

But then then that just seems like one piece and maybe the rhyme is too direct.

I keep thinking of the word "popcorn" here. I don't mean that disparagingly I don't think. It has me thinking about whether or not I am way too biased toward poems that contain some sort of emotional tension or... perceptual heft, some problem or paradox... probably I am, very badly that - and this one is just a nice smile.


I realize now that this is the same author as the night pond hockey poem - and the images it evokes are things I've never seen but that have been described to me, or somehow I have imagined... like the Christmas Eve "Mummers Parade" in rural Newfoundland my wife has described to me and the stages I've seen for it (wood stove hot Newfie kitchens)