I like to think Shakespeare would’ve been a fan of fridge-magnet poetry, composing his iambs and inventing new words to suit him.
But Shakespeare wasn’t married to my husband.
On Sunday, I was playing on my phone with a fridge magnet poetry app.
I came up with this dark, angst-ridden, middle-age-y poem.
I then strutted my portable-fridge app over to my husband. He took one look at it and burst out laughing.
“A bottom trumpet?” he said. “Like a fart?”
“Umm, no,” I said. “I was going for a metaphor.”
“It’s a metaphor, all right,” he said, and started laughing again. “Hark,” he continued, “What light through yonder window breaks? It is Juliet…and her bottom trumpet.”
I started laughing and decided to join in. “I got one,” I said. “Is this the bottom trumpet that launched a thousand ships?”
And just like that, we added a new term to our family vernacular.
Any fridge-magnet poets out there? What song or poem do you think would be improved with the addition of the phrase “bottom trumpet”?