It has now come to a close, a success, in a way, I suppose. Have I learned anything, about making words sing? Will the writing now follow like water flows?
Let me try to say this once again, I’ve told you nine times now, no, ten. But try as I might, I struggle and fight, to tell you that I think you’re an awful human.
When it rains, it does not always pour. When a window shuts, sometimes so does the door. But life carries on, and will, too, after we’re gone. You’re capable of all of it and so much more.
If I could have one power forever, that I could turn on with a pull of a lever, I would want to disappear, not just my body, but my fears, and to always be considered kind, cute and clever.
What could one possibly say, when being rudely shooed away? If a carton of eggs was at hand, on the insulters face they would land, far more satisfying than any words could ever down lay.
“Weeping, willowy, wind bags” is what they called the old hags. Now a curse on them is set, that their clothes will always be wet, and their internet connection forever lags.
A call from the house came from within, they all knew what danger they were in. Our hero ran to the top floor, the audience not heard as they implored. ”Well, now that ghost will surely win!”
Across the way, a shimmer and a glint, all eyes in that direction turned to squint. Was it worth the swear and tears, to alleviate their fears, when nothing of danger did hint?
A salt and pepper shaker were causing a scene, (you must be asking yourself, now, what does that mean?) This author must admit, that this idea doesn’t quite fit, of this limerick, she isn’t at all keen.