Poets Pointing Pistols, Precarious!

Any time I sit down and try to write this stuff
But my brain is free of good ideas and such
Cause I should be getting sleep but doing this instead
Daily Prompts are just something that get into my head

Every one is different at least there’s that to say
For every good idea there’s a hundred bad each day
Golly I just can’t tell you how to unstick your head
Hope that some great idea finds your brain instead

I just repeated a couplet that I used higher up
Just suspect that’s cheating; the way my brain works, yup
Kibitzing and self-editing, “Man does that rhyme limp”
Loser writing poetry with all the skills of chimp

Man this post just seems like it is crazy long indeed
Nothing to be gained by devoting time to read
Oh you poor readers, I humbly offer my amends
Pickling your brains like this, surely must offend

Quit griping and write some more, you silly useless git
Reading this is painful but just keep typing it
So you can end this prompt and move on to the next thing
Tomorrow surely will the prompt some better fortune bring

Unless it draws a blank of inspiration like it often does
Very often my brain just limps through a prompt because
Well I’ll stop whining now here comes the hardest bit
“Xenogamy”, a pollen thang, shut up and deal with it

You have no complaints, at least you didn’t have to write
Zyzzyvas, 44 scrabble points! Finally I’m done, good night.

Write down the letters of the ABC. For each one, choose a word that begins with that letter. Now, write a post about anything — using all the words you’ve selected.

Lemandria is rolling over in her virtual grave.

 

Advertisement

Neat, sweet, petite

Of all my cousins—I have lots—the oddest might be James
He collects small mammals that he nails to boards and maims
But my extended family has many more, like Mary
She’s not creepy, only ugly; Mary’s just scary hairy.

John’s branch of the family is known for their extra legs
But John lost his in the war and walks now on three pegs.
Come meet cousin Patricia, but we just call her Pat.
In place of Sunday bonnet, Pat just wears a mangy cat.

Then there’s Uncle Robert, you might call him Uncle Bob
Where most folks keep their nose, he has a large corn cob.
Cousin Linda cleared of all charges; she’s really not a cannibal
While she only consumes animals—the parts she eats are radical.

And my older brother Michael—he shortens it to Mike—
He’s locked up for certain habits that the county shrink dislikes.
Meet my younger sister Barb, call her Barbie if you dare,
She’s fond of sharp things that she hides inside her hair.

If you have not grown irate at my limping scansion yet
If my doggerel hasn’t bored you, and you can ignore the threat.
Come meet my cousins Bill and Dave, meet Jen and Susan too.
Come to dinner, but take my advice—just please, don’t eat the stew.

Cousin It

Any resemblance to real or Addams families is surely not entirely coincidental.

Kitchen prose and gutter rhymes

Today’s Assignment: publish a post for your dream reader, and include a new-to-you element in it.

My dream reader has (I hope) a sense of whimsy, and not too much art critic…

You might find a pathetic old codger
Who lacks even the skills of a bodger
His verse is quite trite
And his wisdom is slight
And he just ain’t that much of a blogger

(incidentally, I haven’t written any poetry since “Ex-Husband Stew”, which I wrote for a Witch singing at a Bardfest…long story…which was, I hope, a tiny bit more serious that a limping limerick. I’ll see if I can find a text of Ex-Husband Stew through the magic of the internet)