Tagged: rhyme

Kreative Kue 195

Kreative Kue 194 asked for submissions based on this photograph:
John W Howell is the author of the John Cannon trilogy of My GRL, His Revenge, Our Justice and Circumstances of Childhood, co-author of The Contract, and blogs at Fiction Favorites.

Fishing by John W. Howell © 2018

“So you got me up at the crack of dawn to come with you while you fish.”

“Trust me. You are absolutely going to love it.”

“No coffee even.”

“I brought a thermos. When we get settled, we’ll have some coffee.”

“It is so chilly out here.”

“I brought a blanket. We’ll be nice and comfy.”

“What is the first thing we need to do?”

“I’ll need to show you how to bait a hook.”

“Bait?”

“Yes. Here see this worm?”

“Ew, get that squirmy thing away from me.”

“Alright, I’ll bait the hook for you. You can watch.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m putting this worm on the hook.”

“But you are hurting it.”

“Well, it is only a worm. Fish like them.”

“Do you have to stab it like that? I think I’m going to get sick.”

“It is all over. All you have to do is sit down. I’ll cast your line out to the deep.”

“What happens if I catch a fish?”

“You turn this crank and bring it in.”

“When’s coffee?”

“I’ll get it as soon as my line is in.”

“Oh wait. Something tugged on my line.”

“Quick turn the crank. That’s it, nice and steady.”

“What is that thing?”

“Looks like a nice bass. Here let me put a net under it.”

“What do I do now?”

“Take the fish off the hook.”

“Oh lord no. I can’t do that. You do it.”

“For heaven’s sake, George you have to get a grip. It is not that big a deal.”

“This thing is so slimy. I don’t want to touch it.”

“Fine. There it is off.”

“Throw it back.”

“What?”

“The poor thing. I don’t want it to suffer.”

“Of all the he-men in the world, I had to hook up with a marshmallow.”

“Oh smores. I could go for a smore right now. Where’s the coffee?”


Meanwhile, my effort was:

Gracious!

The forecaster’s mendacious
There’ll be no storm tonight;
Although he’s oft loquacious
He is seldom ever right

Those folk seem quite audacious
With their doggy on the sand
But the waves become minacious
As they fast approach the land

It’s hard to be vivacious
In the wind that’s blowing in
All gusty and ungracious
And it makes a fearful din

The sea, it seems vexatious
At the turning of the tide
And my appetite voracious
Must soon be satisfied

Now, dare I be audacious
And suggest we sally forth?
I think it efficacious
That we turn and head due north!


On to this week’s challenge: Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithchanning@gmail.com before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here.

Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.

Gracious!

The forecaster’s mendacious
There’ll be no storm tonight;
Although he’s oft loquacious
He is seldom ever right

Those folk seem quite audacious
With their doggy on the sand
But the waves become minacious
As they fast approach the land

It’s hard to be vivacious
In the wind that’s blowing in
All gusty and ungracious
And it makes a fearful din

The sea, it seems vexatious
At the turning of the tide
And my appetite voracious
Must soon be satisfied

Now, dare I be audacious
And suggest we sally forth?
I think it efficacious
That we turn and head due north!


I wrote this in response to Kreative Kue 194, issued on this site earlier this week. Feel free to join in; just follow the link.

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.