Last gasp!

Come out come out wherever you are - Ireland the land of saints and scholars - get ye to an offy.... or some sort of shop that's still open between now and midnight, hell I'll take poems in nightclubs... time is running out, it's time to panic, it's time to get a poem and put it in a shop, for your country, for dignity, for pride!!!

Scotland have only gone and got another 5 on the board...  placed by Carolyn Yates, all over Dumphries and Galloway in multiple colorful places.  See here for the full size shots and more on how to find em..




















This just in though - it seems the one placed by Rachel Fox, who lives in Scotland, and the score for said poem which was originally awarded to Scotland - should have actually gone to England, so I'm going to have to amend the score.  I know it's not ideal, and I do apologise deeply for the mistake, but these errors, when they occur, must be rectified, so the score now stands at

Scotland 19
Ireland 15
USA 7.5
England 1
RoW 0

Neck N Neck

Scotland have another poem in a shop in the unbelieveably exciting last day of this year's International put your poem in a shop month...

Click here to find out who has placed this gamechanging beaut

Leaving scores at

Scotland 15
Ireland 15
USA 7.5
RoW 0


Arghghghghh - the excitement!

OMG PIS

Poems in Shops Month is hotting up.

There's 3 more to view over at Titus' blog  here


hilarious offerings from Linda Powell


And Margaret Franks -


 

Go to Titus' blog for the full story...


Bug has made another strike for the USA - with a heartfelt little moment - click over here to see where this one ended up



So now - scores on the doors rest at

Scotland 14
USA 7.5
Ireland 15
RoW 0

It's a tight race, and only 14 or so hours of IPYPIASM to go.... 

Can Scotland catch up?  Can Ireland keep ahead?  Will the rest of the world finally join in?

only time will tell - happy new year you all!

4 more to boost the score!!

I got to a shop there the other and managed four more Poems for shops

This one is a nod to the newly renegotiated european fish quotas...

Quotas have changed

                 Customers confident

Heads in the air

                  Wallets out

Full to the gills

                  Whiskers washed

Ready to splash 

                   In one last pan

Then there was one about nostalgia and the passing of time

They won't be back

The days of silver, gold and black

They're further back the line

each breath,

one more of the life called mine

Wanted to find a bar of gold and black chocolate to leave that one beside, but since I couldn't locate the stuff (since it doesn't exist) - I positioned this beside the equally rare and impressive creature that is a bag of ghost jellies on the day after stephen's...

And then another nostalgic one, - (NOTE the hussy referred to is from a coffee ad in the coffee shop in question)

  

It goes:

Tables were joined and chairs crowded

the hussy looked on, as we applauded

forged with cream and the sweet taste of icing

our endless coffees, minds buzzing

with stories, rhymes, ideaqs, joy of 

something stronger than time,

longer than life

And finally - one more IPYPIASM tailored, for the chicken aisle

Tired Shopper, breathe in and out

Never let there be a doubt

You're no machine, cannot continue

without a sale to soothe your sinew

Which brings the grand score total to 

Ireland 15

Scotland 11

USA 6.5

RoW 0

But it's not a competition (however if it was you'd only have 2 days to catch us... or less, depending on the timezone.

Happy new year all of you

IP IP Hooray!!

Domestic Oubliette has brought glory to Eire, lifting the spirits of a nation for the first time since the wonderful Katie Taylor earlier in the year, could this be a sign that we are turning things around?  That we could finally be winners?  or at least draw levellers?

She has put a marvellous poem in a shop with only a little gun holding to the head on my part.

Here's the proof! - and call over to her blog here to read the poem itself and read all about it.

In other news - there is a classic PIAS making a come back on hope's blog in the shape of a 55 word story - immortalised once more, we'll take it, and give the USA another half point in recognition....

Click over here, to see how she's seamlessly woven it in.

So the running tally - in the closest ever IPYPIASM score keeping since score keeping began - with only 3 more IPYPIASMing days to go...

Ireland  11
Scotland 11
USA 6.5
ROW 0

oooh exciting.  Get out there ye all!!

The evidence

I told ye I'd put a poem or two in a shop today... and I wasn't fibbing.

First - here's the lookout










And now three from me

  

By the pens there's

International, it's so fashionable

Grab a pen and act irrational

Fun things left in odd type places

Hope to brighten stranger's faces

 

Then beside the bread - first ever IPYPIASM as gaeilge

Is feidir grá a fháil

In aice len arán

Is fiú do aimsir a thógaint

Ag léamh nó ag scríomh dán

translation

Love can be found

beside the bread

It's worth taking time

to read or write a poem

- and it rhymes when it's in Irish - that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

and then near the apples - not the first time I've seen them  IPYPIASM'd

Fresh as your smile

On another Christmas day

Your "grandeur" calls, your style

Your dignatory sway

I don't think you've gone away

Which all brings us to the new grand total of 

Scotland 11

Ireland 10

USA 6

RoW 0

Anyway, hope you all have a very relaxing day tomorrow and the man in red, if he's coming to you, is generous with his offerings.

xxx

News from Titus - IPYPIASM Hostess with the mostess

Hello all out there in IPYPIASM land.  I have some "rather bad news" (as she calls it herself) from Titus - the woman who generously took on the thankless (ok not completely thankless but you get what I mean) task of hosting the festival that is known as IPYPIASM - I'm not quite sure how much to tell you, for security reasons, but she has suffered a bit of an injury while ice skating, which has led to her being taken to hospital and needing a bit of attention.
She still has her wits about her, and has even had the presence of mind to get on the email to let us know about it, so that IPPPIS (International People Putting Poems in Shops) will not be left without a home.
Anyway - all good thoughts are with you Titus, and hoping you make it home in time for Santa!

Before the unfortunate incident - she had even racked up another score for Scotland

Making it

Scotland 11
Ireland 7
USA 6
RoW Zero

As for me - I have 4 PFS written (poems for shops), and will be venturing out into Xmas Eve madness tomorrow to place em.

You can go over here to see Titus's poem

Exciting news for IPYPIASMers

I can't believe it's not February!!!

So who has knocked me over the head and woken me up and suddenly told me it's November and not a dog in the house washed?!  (nor child neither)

Well it's nearly November, and getting perilously close to our favourite time of year - the most wonderful time, as I like to call it - otherwise known as International Put Your Poem in a Shop Month - or IPYPIASM!!!
 (say it backwards and it's MSAIPYPI - sinisterly close to mississippi)

Anyway - I can hardly host it this year, as you'll have noticed my average posting per month is coming in at a tidy sum of just the one.... (it's not that I don't love ye, I just literally have been repeatedly knocked over the head and whole chunks of life have disappeared on me, like dry ice in a moving train on a sunny saturday)

So, who can take the reins, who out there would be brilliant enough, super enough, enough of an IPYPIASMER of old to lead us into the new season - someone who has enthusiastically led the charge before in their area, a steady hand, who won't let it all go to their head.  It'd have to be someone in another country too, right?  I mean we're talking IPYPIASM, not NPYPIASM after all.

Yes, you've guessed it - the marvellous Titus the dog has agreed to host the Festival in it's fifth year... what a legend.

Her blog, for anyone crazy enough not to have been there previously is over here

Enjoy you crazy bunnies - I'll be hopefully enthusiastically partaking, in a shop near me, some time soon...

Thank you so much Titus!!

When the internet went down...

... I wrote the following:

He doesn’t stop to ask the time, to think things through.  His next move is all that matters, a speeding tunnel approach to life.  He sees an apple.  Wants the apple.  Sees a dog.  Wants to kiss that dog, even as she is walking away, though her wagging tail might catch him.  His minders interrupt, when they dare, to try and keep him fresh, bringing down his wrath upon them.  Other times he’ll bestow an ocean of caring when they least expect it, a soothing arm about their neck, or intensely offered part chewed biscuit.  Before they can show gratitude – he’s off again, on to the next thing.  Like the weather, unpredictable – he’ll climb, dig, jump, dance, sing, spin, splash and fall.  Throwing stones and grass.  Casually he leaves his belongings, sometimes including leaves, anywhere.  He can’t be robbed – nothing has any value – except the thing he most wants in the moment.  He’ll turn blue and breathless with rage if you try to take that though.  He’ll scream and pout and silently sob, watery eyes glaring till you, cowering, give it back; or somehow turn his focus over to something else, a show, a drink, a bit of action.  He laughs with every laugh he hears even when he least feels like it, can’t help it.  Applauds generously at the end of music, live or pre-recorded, he’s no art snob.  Enjoys bright colours of the supermarket, every bit as good as fine art exhibits.  He’ll also laugh at tears, giggles at a sneeze, tooth brushing gets guffaws and dogs eating bubbles are hilarious.  Life is hilarious.  He is hilarious.  He doesn’t stop.

So maybe the internet is to blame for the laziness, at least in part...

Shhhh

You know the way sometimes you can be confident no one will hear what you're saying because you're saying it to yourself somewhere very noisy - cursing the length of the queue for the cloakroom in the chattering unwelcome pale blue light of 2am, maybe you're singing the words slightly wrong in a choir of fifty others in navy uniforms, and you just know no one will ever hear, and sometimes you know no one can hear because you're in a woods, and there's no one around, or you're having that nightmare where you're trying to shout but there's no air in your lungs to push out through the voice box.  And sometimes no one hears just because you're only saying it in your head...

Well that's where a lot of my blog posts are getting caught nowadays - in that mousse like mess of neurons behind the balls of jelly that I use to look at stuff.  The opening or closing words of blog posts, poems, soliliquays, jokes, stories, plays, novels, songs - echo in the silence, never to be heard again, not even by myself - since I don't write the stupid things down.

And now my writing muscle has about as much muscle as a mussel, (not counting the strong bit that keeps the shell closed, cos my point is that it's not strong any more - quite the opposite), and only half as salty.

So there y'are, maybe I'll throw a little shell fish catcher line type thing in there sometime to try and dredge out some of the ideas see if they're worth cooking up... but meanwhile

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh