Who has the fish?

Oh, Mr Einstein! How befuddling 

you have me questioning and wondering.

If Britain is red; then who is the green

the Swede may have dogs; but where are they seen?

I wrote them out in spider diagrams

but the lines were baffling, my poor hands

needed to spread out across the spreadsheet

twas logical and a little more neat.

But I can’t figure out the German

I know he smokes! But what else can I learn?

Oh, Mr Einstein, it’s taken me hours

and only 2% have these powers?

Asking us questions like, Where is the fish?

Mind-boggling riddle, you just had to dish…

I would love to say that I mastered it

but alas, nay, I may have googled it!

 

The above, a result of a befuddling brain teaser a co-worker e-mailed me today. Written by Einstein the 19th Century predicting/stating only 98% of the population would be able to solve it. Well, I do like a challenge. I took it on. I failed. I succumbed to the easiness and peer pressure that was Google. I found the answer – went back to the riddle and still couldn’t see where I had gone wrong! C’est la vie.

Just for fun here is the riddle:

Five homeowners lived in five separate houses that were five different colours.Each homeowner was of a different nationality, drank a specific beverage, smoked a specific brand of smokes, and a kept a specific pet. No owners had  the same pet, brand of smoke, or drink.

The Clues:

1. The Brit lives in a Red house.

2. The Swede keeps a dog.

3. The Dane drinks tea.

4. The Green house is on the left of the White house.

5. The Green homeowner drinks coffee.

6. The person who smokes Pall Mall keeps Birds.

7. The owner of the Yellow house smokes Dunhill.

8. The man living in the central house drinks milk.

9. The Norwegian lives in the first house.

10. The man who smokes Blend lives next to the man who keeps Cats.

11. The  man who keeps Horses lives next to the man who smokes Dunhill.

12. The owner who smokes Camel drinks Beer.

13. The German smokes Marlborough.

14. The Norwegian lives next to the Blue house.

15. The man who smokes Blend has a neighbour who drinks water.

 

With that in mind, Who Keeps The Fish?

Give it a whirl, let me know how you went… with or without Google… I promise I won’t judge!

 

Almost Twenty Little Poetry Projects

Today was one of those days… for everyone else. It started with a Melbourne Metro Meltdown – it involved rats and fire! (I dare you not to click the link now! But come back,if you do).  I wasn’t affected until I was asked to channel my inner minion and do the morning coffee run. As I was standing in the painfully long queue of damp Melbournians I avoided all eye contact and browsed the internet on my phone, as you do, and other than reading all the lovely likes and comments on my WordPress reader (go team!) I stumbled on NaPoWriMo website. I don’t know it happened it just did. Anyway I saw the Day 29 prompt – “Twenty Little Poetry Projects” and thus started a tennis game in my head. Well, not tennis, but one half of the brain was “you’ve posted your Day 30 give yourself a break” and the other half was “pfft, challenge accepted”. Well, work was quiet today and I’m posting here so I assumed you’ve all concluded which side of the brain won. So with out further ado, and apologies for the long winded introduction I give you my-almost-twenty-poetry-projects-poem.

So, Wednesday happened.

Waltzing through the epic commuter show

avoiding a woeful Richmond station.

She wrapped her hand around a ‘cuppa joe’

which stimulated this pointless narration.

She sat at her desk by a stormy scene

and waited for her universe to light up

Orange windows flash-dancing on her screen

reflection of words in her java cup.

“Good Morning Miss Charlie – Are you here yet?

Can you help me a with little something?

Trainaggedon – No, it’s not a threat

I’m late; Need mojo; but calls are waiting!”

Ah, the sweet aroma of cocoa beans

hot lattes of satisfaction

just a hasty injection of caffiene

then he can give you your explanation.

Evil calendars begin at nine

her face turns red at the sound of ‘tick tock’

Sure, Alfie will be back at her desk on time

twiddling her fingers; waiting for the clock.

C’est la vie.

 

#NaPoWriMo Day Thirty – “April’s Journey”

headstone-md1

She noticed the line between B and D

on the worn out stone in that photograph

and thought, what could that line possibly mean?

When she leaves here, she’ll paint an autograph

of all her thoughts, moments and poetry

signed, sealed, delivered with a smile and laugh.

Walking through time, her quest to history

where she wrote letters on a Wiltshire hill

pondering the worlds greatest mysteries.

Lie with her in fields of daffodils

as she gazes into Albion’s windows

from the grassy bench of Salisbury’s windmills.

Or find her dancing sunshine and rainbows

as she encounters New York Down Under

April Twenty Fourteen was quite a show

just like lightening in a storm of thunder.

Her line tastes like chai latte on Mondays

a blissful moment her heart could plunder

From point B, the line is a disarray

of wibbly-wobbly moments

just waiting to be played.

 

Prompt: All the 29 poems I’ve written this NaPoWriMo 2014.

#NaPoWriMo Day TwentyEight – “Falling”

Swooping off the cliff like a hungry bird
she follows her path to a places unknown
hunting for actuality – she is falling.
Expressing herself in drawings and words
creating a world inside her mind, her own
rain racing to the ground, she is falling.
Someday soon she will find a little nook
and paint her world in verses and hues;
tales of moments and places she has flown
through her life; a journey is all it took.
Falling.

Prompt: http://www.napowrimo.net/2014/04/day-26-2/

Picture Credits: http://www.falconrygallery.com/displayimage-18.html

#NaPoWriMo Day TwentySeven – “An Existential Crisis”

existential crisis

Writing from an unmade bed

weary of the same four walls

wrapped in the same old pictures.

Why am I here?

Wandering up life’s mountain

weathered and crackling under

weak social preconceptions

What am I?

Worn out from institutions

wailing and waffling on;

wars on individuality.

Who am I?

Weakened from society’s chains

who would keep me on the beaten path

waiting for the answer

what will I be when I grow up?

We’re all in the same boat, they say.

Wrong, we’re split into factions

west and east; north and south

white and black – someone ask why?

Why are we here? What’s the point?

What is our objective?

We’re born into this giant globe

We should be the one’s to protect it…

Prompt: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/poetry/ – Tautogram

#NaPoWriMo Day TwentyThree – “Talking Brunswick Street”

Inspired by http://www.napowrimo.net prompt:  ‘New York School’ poems.  I don’t think it’s finished. But is a poem ever really finished…

 

It’s 8am on Tuesday and I am on the tram

you could say: it’s just Monday 2.0

so naturally I’m late and it’s raining – damn!

Is it sunny over there? I bet it is, laughing at me

I bet you’ve been doing a rain dance secretly.

It’s against the law to make it rain here, seriously!

Oh, I’m just crouched on the cold metal steps

looking out on a washed out Brunswick Street

it’s moving ever so slowly! Mmm… I can smell the coffee and crepes!

I can see Fitzroy-ans dancing through trams and cars

in a sea of boots, poncho’s and umbrellas

in a long narrow valley of cafes, shops and bars.

Lights are flickering in the old comic book store

Oh Marty, ‘Back to the Future’ is now

your movie is so old it predates Persy’s next door.

Posters and banners flapping in chilly wind

will we ever escape the daggy dolls we were yesterday

when fun was getting off our faces and succumbing to sins.

Don’t stop the music and oh, just dance

the numb blur of college life, I don’t remember

except when we dreamt of moving to the south of France.

But 2014, oh, a communication revolution

look at us talking wirelessly from either side of the world

Can you hear me? Wait, can you see me? Technological evolution.

Mr Asmiov hit the metaphorical nail on the head:

“humanity will go into hibernation” – indeed

it’s true what the 1960’s sci-fi guy predicted.

Speaking of, did you know it’s illegal to trade with pirates

here, so if we upload, download and freeload

aren’t we essentially criminals – just open-closet-pirates.

Think about it – I’ll peruse my books

while washed out Brunswick Street starts its day

in one of Melbourne’s much loved coffee nooks.