This is the tale of Sir Skellington Win,
who lived up a tree and was incredibly thin.
He constantly told tales of sorrow and loss,
yet somehow still thought that he was the boss.
He had a hat made of glass and two hairs on his chin,
and whatever he played would invariably win.
Apart from love where he was a loser,
even through fantastical tales he could never amuse her.
One day he was walking in his armour of tin,
and happened upon a lady stuck in a bin.
She really was making such a din,
that he could do little but stare and take a sip of his gin.
He took his bottle and looked within,
and could see the reflections of his favourite kin.
With this bitter thought he came to see
that thinking in rhyme was incredibly twee.
So he helped the lady out of the bin and she was very grateful. And that was that.
Can you tell I’ve been having some trouble with today’s write up? If you think you can do any better then i’d suggest you take up professional poetry as my effort is surely gold star standard for an under 12?
Title: Sir Skellington Win
Media: Spray paint and screen print on slate
Size: 46 x 31 cm slate
Please email if interested
It’s the weekend at last and day 3 of our Yuletide Fundom Demolition Sale!
Today’s offering is Futility and is based on the poem of the same name by Wilfred Owen. I reckon that it must be my favourite poem. I would be lying if I said I had studied much poetry and can still remember this from school. I think the fact that i can remember it verbatim must mean that it has struck some kind of chord with me. It’s about the life and death in the trenches of France during World War One and the futility of the whole situation. According to Wikipedia it is ‘a departure from his usual style of including disturbing and graphic images and instead has an oddly soothing feel to it’. Whilst not knowing his usual style i can only agree that it has a somewhat soothing feel to it.
An unique A3 screen print with stencils and hand finishing. Here’s the Ebay link - http://goo.gl/73fVt Let the bidding commence!
Filed under Uncategorized
Poet Mouse loses the plot…
Poet Mouse knows it was National Poety Day just the other day but he doesn’t care right at the moment. Despite the fact Poet Mouse has a gargantuan lexicon and a great knowledge of poetry both contemporary and classic he is still subject to the same earthly needs as anyone else. And when he gets hungry he gets cranky. Here we can see he has eschewed the lofty world of words to let rip with the Mouse for something like ‘snack time!’ (which doesn’t translate well into English) as he spots a tasty beetle to assuage his seemingly bottomless hunger…
The pink room at the top of House of Pain(t) is currently the emptiest in terms of work we’ve done (probably because of the number of stairs you have to climb to reach the top of the house) but we have still have a few days left before demolition so we’ll hopefully get this room a little more completed before the wrecking ball moves in…
- Poet Mouse on the Olympics (thisisidiom.wordpress.com)
Poet Mouse on the Olympics (grey)
Poet Mouse on the Olympics (yellow)
Poet Mouse on the Olympics (all 4)
Poet Mouse on the Olympics (back detail)
We had a little competition a while back to guess where i’d borrowed a quote from and so we needed to come up with some prizes. As i’d been rather taken with the Olympics as a whole and with Team GB’s performance in particular I thought what better than a small tribute to the endeavours of the multitude of sportsmen that have kept me entertained over the past couple of weeks. So here we have Poet Mouse expressing it in the words of Armand D’angour in his new favourite poem – An Ode to the London Olympics 2012. Three of these will be winging their way to the lucky recipients in the next couple of days and I can only hope they like them…
PS – If anyone’s actually wondering what the answer to the competition was it was ‘The Young Ones’
The Poet Mouse
“This street will become a shrine, and punks and skins and rastas will all gather round and hold their hands in sorrow for their fallen leader. And all the grown-ups will say, “But why are the kids crying?” And the kids will say, “Haven’t you heard? Poet Mouse is dead! The People’s Poet is dead!”
And then one particularly sensitive and articulate teenager will say, “Other kids, do you understand nothing? How can Poet Mouse be dead when we still have his poems?”
This is what will be said of Poet Mouse in coming years but whilst his work lives on he will live in our hearts…
There we were, just minding our own business, when we hear a series of barely audible little squeaks that were somehow coalescing into intelligible words right in front of us. After casting round we found this little fella reciting Tennyson’s ‘The Lady of Shalott‘ to us. Once he’d finished we had a small chat and he said he was an urban poet but due to his diminished size had a bit of trouble getting an audience together although he had some fantastic material. I can only hope he gets the attention he deserves. He was a very modest and friendly fellow so keep your eyes out for him, till next time my friend…
I’ve started today’s post with an (altered) quote that I feel is particularly relevant to Poet Mouse. A prize to anyone who can tell me where i nabbed it from…
Image via Wikipedia
I reckon that Futility (by Wilfred Owen) must be my favourite poem. I would be lying if I said I had studied much poetry and can still remember this from school. I think the fact that i can remember it verbatim must mean that it has struck some kind of chord with me. It’s about the life and death in the trenches of France during World War One and the futility of the whole situation. According to Wikipedia it is ‘a departure from his usual style of including disturbing and graphic images and instead has an oddly soothing feel to it’. Whilst not knowing his usual style i can only agree that it has a somewhat soothing feel to it.
Media: Screenprint, acrylic and spraypaint
Available from our Big Cartel store for £50