Tagged: rhyme

To be a writer

Alone, she sat there in her study
All day, and well into the night.
Her thinking sometimes became muddy
But she had a story to write.

It’s been years since her father had told her
That she could spin tales really well
And she really should try to be bolder
For she had a story to tell.

So she moved from her dark little hovel
To a place that would give her more air,
More freedom to work on her novel;
Yes, she had a story to share.

Her motives weren’t all altruistic
She had to make money as well.
Her agent would soon go ballistic
If she had no story to sell.

That’s why, for those long hours, she toiled
Correcting, then writing again.
She worked like an engine well oiled
As she strove her story to pen.

But why would she do this? you wonder.
I asked her the same, she replied,
“What can I do but knuckle under,
When I have this story inside?”

I wrote this in response to Kreative Kue 132, issued on this site earlier. Feel free to join in; just follow the link.


Driving through New Jersey
Headed southward to Cape May,
The air was clear, the sky was blue,
Twas a lovely, sunny day.

The car was purring smoothly,
I was feeling somewhat mellow
When my senses were assaulted
By a sudden splash of yellow.

Incongruous is the word I chose
To describe it to my wife,
“The biggest eyesore I have seen
In many years of life.”

My special girl was more subdued
(She is a gracious honey)
Suggesting merely that it’s crude
And shows they’ve too much money.

It often makes me ponder
Why some people are so flash,
Do you suppose they wonder
What to do with all their cash?

The sudden burst of colour
Left me just a little skittish,
I pointed out there was no doubt
The owners can’t be British!

And then we saw the sign outside
It read ‘Olde English Teas
I stepped in and demanded
“Tea; milk, no sugar, please.”

I wrote this in response to Kreative Kue 131, issued on this site earlier this week. Feel free to join in; just follow the link.


You may think you are comfy in this crampèd little space,
But tilt your head a little, and you’ll see a different place.
In fact there’s a photographer now picturing my face.

Look a little harder, dear, I think that you will find
That what you think of as above is actually behind;
And all the things you think you see are only in your mind.

I’m telling you that isn’t so, you brainless little twerp.
This is no madness trying my composure to usurp.
Just use your ears and listen, you will hear a birdie chirp!

Some things I have to tell you, Ma’am, some facts that you should know:
The Earth that you adore so much is many miles below,
And what you see above your head is just a picture show.

Okay, that’s it. I’ve had enough. It’s time for you to waken.
You have to face up to the truth, although your faith be shaken.
Unless, of course, you have some more of those pills you’ve just taken!

I wrote this in response to Kreative Kue 127, issued on this site earlier this week. Feel free to join in; just follow the link.