Harmonious Poem

I liked your Green Poem, Pliny, I said. Would you like to see mine? It's called Harmonious Poem. Without waiting for him to reply, I began:

Harmonious Poem

The day after the election
the sun came out
people went to the beach forgetting
what they had brought about

They walked their dogs
they ate icecreams
built sandcastles and didn't see
the tide coming in.

A triangle of spangles
sparkled on the sea
representing the harmonious country
this might be.

Not bad, said Pliny, although your rhyming leaves something to be desired.

Well, I wrote it in a hurry, I said. As I suspect you wrote yours.

What makes you think that? asked Pliny.

You paid no attention to metre, I said. Even an amateur can tell.

It was straight from the heart, said Pliny, sentimentally. I see you liked my baby whale.

You stole it from Bob Brown, I said.

But he didn't transform it into art, said Pliny.

True, he didn't. What did you think of my own use of symbolism?

The triangle of spangles? said Pliny. It didn't work for me.

Pliny's Green Poem

Pliny the Elder has been cock-a-hoop since the election, having recently decided he was Green. This morning he showed me a poem he had written in honour of their great result on Saturday. This was it:

Viro Sum

Viro sum et felix
Factiones maiores frustrati
Balaena infanta hodie nata
Omen Virides admovent.
Bono anima estis!
Viridis unum in consilium plebi
Nunc in senatu
Novem

I got out my Latin dictionary and had a go at translating it:

I am Green

I am a happy Green
The major parties are stuffed
A baby whale was born today
A sign the Greens go forward
Be cheerful everyone!
There is now a Green in the House of Reps
And nine Greens in the Senate.

Oh! What a lovely poem! I like the bit about the baby whale.

Three Weeks

Aha! said Pliny the Elder. The Tour de France is finished. What shall we do next?

I don't know about you, I said, but I am going to catch up on all the things that have happened at home in the last three weeks.

But that might take three weeks, said Pliny.

No, it won't, I said. Watch this:

Thursday: mum doesn't like her chickenless caesar salad at the library
Friday: photograph pineapple in bicycle helmet
Saturday: replace bedroom curtain which has mysterious rents
Sunday: daughter deactivates twitter account; giant saucer placed under mum's tree
Monday: daughter deactivates facebook account; I realise we are still nonvirtual friends
Tuesday: Qi Long looks at me when I say hello to him several times
Wednesday: think about tomorrow
Thursday: fall over dramatically on the way to a lecture, graze knee
Friday: headache
Saturday: election called; I hope Julia wins!
Sunday: daughter returns from London in shorts
Monday: washing and ironing
Tuesday: Li Feng gives me two pieces of warmed up cake to eat
Wednesday: IKEA
Thursday: Pi Approximation Day: watch movie Pi and eat pies at the science exchange
Friday: very cold day.
Saturday: put a rubber band round mum's curtain rod, debate with her its merits as marker
Sunday: Masterchef full of preposterous drama; Adam wins

There, Pliny, I said. That's what happened. Is there anything you would like me to elaborate upon?

Pliny looked perplexed.

What's IKEA? he said.