I should preface this terrible poem with the acknowledgement that I do not care for coffee. Caffeine does nothing for me, and you have to fill a cup with a higher ratio of sugar and cream than actual coffee to get me to enjoy it. Nevertheless, I did go to college and was surrounded by coffee-lovers. Just for fun, I wrote this poem one night in sophomore year of college. Continue reading
Merry Christmas! Continue reading
I returned a few days ago from a cruise to the Bahamas, and since I didn’t take my laptop with me, I hand-wrote my 2000 words each day. Most of my writing was just rewriting of the story I’m currently editing, but one night I was so tired that I just let my mind roam. This is the result. Because pirates! Continue reading
Happy Halloween! Here is the final (intelligible) limerick I wrote for the holiday.
Trick or Treat
Trick-or-treaters out braving the cold,
Asked for candy with voices quite bold.
But a man saw them roam
And said, “Stop and go home,
You need meds and you’re ninety years old!”
Another holiday-inspired limerick for your morbid amusement.
Jim stole Susie’s heart on a whim,
But Sue couldn’t win over Jim.
So she grabbed up a knife,
Said a prayer for her life,
And then stole the heart right out of him.
A limerick to honor the approaching holiday.
A witch with a splintery broom
Said, “I wish I could soar with more gloom.”
She sanded the broomstick
Till it was small as a toothpick.
When she flew it, she fell to her doom.
In honor of encroaching Hallow’s Eve (and because I was bored one morning a couple of weeks ago), I tapped out a few poems before work. Apparently I equate Halloween with the gorier side of “horror,” but I do try to be funny–try is the operative term there. This is the first of a series of poems I’ll be posting for the holiday.
Morris Seboris was a choir-man florist
Whose nosegays were glorious roses.
But Morris Seboris got bored with his chorus,
So he arranged a bouquet of their noses.
I was rummaging around in my closet and found this little poem from senior year of high school. I haven’t posted much actual fiction in some time, and since I’ve just been discussing timing, I thought this was appropriate to post.
A brush, a touch of hand
For but a moment, though.
Twelve times a day, at night twelve times,
The stroke of love sets off the chimes.
Movement constant, progress slow,
A hush, love caught in sand.