Writing at a quarter past one,
Praying ’bout the message to come…
The word searching–
Badly needs churching,
Will he be too sleepy to come?
A letter came from Renee’,
Was glad to find her okay…
When next I write
She said I should type,
So reading it wouldn’t take all day!
I smelled a skunk last night,
In the middle of a rainstorm flight…
The skunk had to be
Not the best way to spend a cold night!
I tired of my boneless chicken,
It was cold and not “finger-licking”…
A cold burger too
I chewed right through,
If a balloon, I’d be ready for sticking!
The rain goes on and on,
It’s supposed to last through dawn…
May be rain “blessed”,
Will tents be put up on the lawn?
Main gate remains open in rain,
To avoid the extra pain…
If power goes “squush”
We manually push
Open the gate closed down..
i have my lap-top plugged in,
Its battery life to extend…
In this rain storm
The computer gets warm,
And needs cool-down time near nights end!
Two days yet until the birthday
Of Sputnik, starting the Space age…
My parents were distracted–
Their second boy was extracted
From a womb most happy that tiring day!
The man with curled hair on his forehead,
His writings were certainly florid…
When he was good
He was very, very good,
But when bad he was beyond just horrid!
My wife and I get along,
Better after I was gone
Into a lock-down
Till I came around,
Getting out–sang my happiest song!
This writing of poetry
Keeps him off the streets, you see…
Won’t invite curses,
From what he used to be!
If you know me at all, you know that a 1st grader could easily beat me in a spelling bee. This is pretty awesome for little shin-biters around the world, but a bit disconcerting for me. So generally, I tell them they are spelling the word wrong because I’m a grown-up and I’m smarter than them. They listen… thus the problem with spelling and grammar in today’s world.
Yesterday was National Grammar Day: a day where those who feel inferior to the rest of the world can thumb their noses at those they deem simple-minded. While I don’t equate myself with these people, I did recently exclaim in the grocery store, “Look! They used the correct word ‘fewer’ rather than ‘less’ on their sign!” Then I only heard crickets chirping from all the other shoppers who had no idea what I was talking about. Fortunately, my friend Jason was there to be excited with me, or I might have had to remind these strangers who I am and then they would have been embarrassed.
This had me thinking. Am I a grammar geek? I don’t bother to spell-check emails or edit them before I hit send. I often have to think if I should use the word “lay” or “lie”, and I might as well forget trying to use the word “moot” properly. Then again, you should see the people rushing to loosen my corsets and give me mouth-to-mouth when I hit publish by accident before editing a post.*
I didn’t think I was a grammar geek… until recently. I told my friend Rod that I’m pretty sure I have what I like to call Literary Dysmorphia. Here I was, trucking along as a narcissistic blogger who loosely called herself a writer because… well, why the heck not? My amazing ability to fool people into believing I knew what I was doing led to much better writers than myself asking me to edit their works. This was great, because I had no friggin’ clue what I was doing. But being super awesome, I faked my way through it. Recently, I’ve been asked by a few people if I can hook them up in the editing world. But the most flattering of all was being found by the CEO of a huge editing company, and then being offered compensation to write something for them. It wasn’t much, but it was ego-stroking to say the least.
Literary Dysmorphia is defined by me as seeing your writing through warped goggles. Some writers are on their high horses thinking that they are better than everyone else, and can’t understand how others get published. Some of us are practically perfect, but are scared to death to actually write a book. Therefore, we cover ourselves in bacon grease and let dogs bite us so we don’t have to face that demon.
I’m a day late and a dollar short, but happy grammar day, y’all.
*I totally noticed that this sentence was a run-on, but I make my own grammar rules, so shut it.
BLOGGER’S BEDTIME PRAYER
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my blogs to keep…
If I die after I awake
I pray that one more poem I make
LIMERICKS AS A PAST-TIME
I once wrote for Arthur Deex
And THE PENTATETTE*, for weeks…
On end just to squint
And see it in print,
Like all other poetry geeks.
*Arthur Deex is the Editor of THE PENTATETTE, the monthly newsletter of the Limerick Special Interest Group. Wrote limericks for them for several years, actually!
Haven’t written about redheads lately,
Not that they don’t come to mind…
Their still the ones I admire greatly
And make friends with any I can find.
One or two subscribe to my poetry
While others follow here…
Whoever they are, wherever they come from,
I think of them as dear.
If I don’t write as often about you
Please do not get mad…
In my own limited way I love you,
The best friends I’ve ever had.*
(*Except my wife…of course!!!)
LIGHT AND SASSY
He feels pretty good today,
He managed sufficient sleep…
And made his way to work anon
Having done promises he could keep.
He woke up early with time to write
A light-hearted missive or two…
He got to smile at his “favorite girl”
And joke with the secretary, too.
He literally saluted
With a brandish of mouth trombone…
Friends who were coming into work
And those just leaving for home.
His vacation-time form was faxed by the boss,
Eventually money will come…
To tide him over til he gets back
From a week of Christmas at home.
HE WRITES ANYTIME!
Off to bed he creeps,
Falls into bed and sleeps…
It’s been a long day
His disjointed schedule keeps.
Not often is he taken in
With total exhaustion…
But falls behind
In the daily grind,
After losing his vigor and vim.
He writes whenever he can,
The time isn’t always planned…
When he can’t sleep
He’ll get up and reap,
The stories he’s written by hand.