Micropoetry Mondays: The Lighter Side

When Sticky Fingers Sal & Pickpocket Pearl
were strolling out of Curl Up & Dye,
Sal, distracted by a Grammar Nazi on strike,
slipped & fell into a plot hole.
Pearl, always quick with her hands,
reached into the man’s pocket
& stole the ultimate weapon—
his dangling modifier.
She held it down for Sal who,
even after her rescue,
just wouldn’t let go of it.

He was a tautogram,
she, an anagram.
They were socially-awkward individuals,
for he got his tongue all twisted,
just as she was all mixed up.

He was White Wine,
chilled to perfection;
she was Red Wine,
perfect as she was.
Then along came
Pink Champagne,
all fancy & bubbly in her flute
& saying to Red & White
that they were mere
lunch & dinner accompaniments,
whereas she was the star
of holidays & weddings.
But then she met Beer,
who was enjoyed out of the tap,
the bottle,
& the can,
& she realized that his fans
would enjoy him
from any vessel.

Micropoetry Monday: The Lighter Side (Grammar Edition)

The Fanboys—
a passel of 7 devils—
had given
the Comma Queen
of Oxford
conjunctivitis
with their incessant need
for attention,
so much so,
that she chose to sacrifice
her life
for the Semicolon.

When the Writing Lab
decided to give
performance art a shot
by putting on a play,
it was fraught with errors:
The sentences ran on too long
& there were too many commas—
all the while semicolons
wandered around,
unsure of their placement.
The villain was a dangling modifier,
which was a problem,
as no one knew what it was;
by the time the audience figured it out,
the story had been killed.

He was Times New Roman,
feeling superior with his flair at every end;
she was Arial,
feeling equally so with her minimalistic look.
When Comic Sans came along,
crossing their lines & bleeding into their text,
they collaborated with Calibri
& sought to kick this whimsical little upstart
off the Typography Team.

Micropoetry Monday: The Writer’s Life

Her poetic license had no expiration date,
for she went around putting line breaks
where she thought they should be,
inserting the Oxford comma wherever she went,
omitting needless words,
adverbs,
& clichés,
for just as brevity was literary minimalism,
clarity was literary purity.

When she brainstormed,
her fingers were like lightning
across the keyboard,
her words like thunder
as she hammered away at a clump of words
to create a viable human-interest story.

It was reading, writing, & arithmetic
in grammar school,
academics, arts, & athletics
in college.
Sara Lee Storey excelled in the arts,
writing about the academics, 
& editing the words of those
who wrote about athletics.

Micropoetry Monday: The Writer’s Life

Every morning,
Miss English stood before her mirror,
curled her apostrophes & quotation marks,
which made her look quite smart,
ensured her conjunctions coordinated,
& that her tittles defied just the right amount of gravity.
When she broke down on the information superhighway
& moseyed into the skiddy comments section of Reddit,
she learned the language of the emoticon
& that for those who talked too much,
punctuation & misspellings didn’t matter.

Through her typewriter,
the introvert known as Elizabeth von Baron
became known as Dear Libby,
so that as she became established in the spirit,
her shyness,
in the flesh,
disintegrated.

She scribbled on the walls,
a pre-literate graffiti,
a magenta crayon being her tool of choice.
She drew her stories on the carbon paper
her mother brought home,
each picture numbering 1000 words.
She wrote her stories in black-&-white
composition notebooks—
stories that rewrote her history—
so that she became the worst sort
of unreliable narrator,
for she plagiarized from no one’s life,
not even her own.

Poem-a-Day November 2018 Writer’s Digest Challenge #12. Theme: Disaster

Writing Lab Blues

Sometimes she just wanted to say,
“No capitalization,
No punctuation,
No service,”
or that the use of the words “thing” and “stuff”
& the overuse of “very” and “really”
qualified as “enough was enough.”
She was a 1000-piece puzzle
who lost a piece every time
she read an essay that sought to answer the question,
“Is Google Making Us Stupid?”
So, she learned to start from scratch—
just as she had learned to bake—
for as much as she learned the Why
(even though she already knew the How),
she also learned that patience
was a learned virtue—
& that it was easier to do than teach.

2018 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 12

Some of my Favorite Things about Being a Writer

DSCF0464

  1. I can do it from here to there; I can do it anywhere.
  2. It’s cheap.  I don’t have to spend a small fortune on art supplies to create my art.  Pen and paper, or a little laptop will do.
  3. Unlike photography, I don’t have to try to capture others when they’re not looking.  I can write about them without them even knowing it.
  4. I can brainstorm ideas while in bed (trying to go to sleep).
  5. It’s a great gig for introverts (like me).
  6. I can wash, rinse, repeat.  I don’t have to start all over again, like I would, for the most part, with a drawing.  I can finish the entire project, and then go back and edit.
  7. It helps me keep my vocabulary, spelling, and grammar skills sharp.
  8. I can write a book one time, and make money off of more than one copy (unlike a painting, that can only be sold once by the painter).
  9. I can kill off people I don’t like.
  10. I can live vicariously through my characters.  I can travel the world, work exciting jobs, and yes, assassinate my enemies.

How the Colon Came to Be a Period

Colon Howell lived in the land of Alfabet City,
where all the punctuation was quite witty,
though he was tired of floating over vowels
because of the nosebleeds that made him dizzy.

A fast-paced city it was,
all the marks running on and on,
never stopping—
so exhausting.

While strolling through the park one day,
in the merry month of June,
he was taken by surprise,
by a bunch of loons—
We’s who’d read Ayn Rand and
wanted to become I’s;
they took his blue eye,
but he got away before
they were able to get his brown,
and he was bounced out of town.

When he returned undercover,
dressed as a semicolon,
he leaked his story on YouTube and HuffPost,
with an eyepatch over the part that was swollen,
full of ripostes.
Through his ordeal,
he found a new purpose,
for run-on sentences stopped,
and he was hailed a hero.