There once was a young writer in France,
Who for the New Year wanted to dance.
To get out of his rut,
Outside he did strut,
But forgot he was wearing no pants.
There once was a young writer in France,
Who for the New Year wanted to dance.
To get out of his rut,
Outside he did strut,
But forgot he was wearing no pants.
Filed under 2023, joke, joke by author, limerick, poem, poetry, poetry by author, Poetry by David E. Booker, writing humor
The plan
There once was a writer who wrote Santa. /
He asked for a book marketing plan to /
Put his novel on top /
And not be a flop. /
Now, he only has to write another 80 grand-ah.
Filed under 2022, limerick, Monday morning writing joke, poem, poetry, poetry by author, Poetry by David E. Booker
There once was a writer in a bookstore /
Of her novels, she wanted to see more. /
Up on the shelves /
She wanted them to dwell /
But first she had to do more than adore.
There once was a writer of romance, /
Who left very little to chance. /
Her imagination /
Was only a way station, /
For her prose to cavort and prance.
.
.
#limerick #romance #writer #imagination #cavort #prance #writinghumor #poem #poetry #davidebooker #october #monday #101022 #2022
Filed under 2022, Monday morning writing joke, poem, poetry, Poetry by David E. Booker
There once was writer named Maxwell/
Who wrote only things factual /
Imagination, he said, /
Was not in his head. /
Then he was eaten by a Pterodactyl.
Filed under 2022, Monday morning writing joke, poem, poetry, Poetry by David E. Booker
There one was a writer named Flynn, /
Who had trouble knowing where to begin. /
In medias res, /
he heard was the place. /
but he didn’t know how to get in.
Filed under 2022, Monday morning writing joke, poem, poetry, Poetry by David E. Booker
Happy hard
There once was a writer of greeting cards, /
Who found this season a bit of a canard. /
All she had to say /
She’d said already for pay. /
To do it now for free was very hard.
There once was an actor of note,
Who thought he was so good he could float.
Upon the stage he did try
To levitate way up high,
And soon he was smaller than a mote.
Filed under 2021, Monday morning writing joke
The once was a writer with a bucket,
Who threw his drafts in it, because they “suck it.”
One day a thief came by
And with his bucket she did hie.
Now she has a bestseller. O’ the luck of it.
There once was a writer from Montana,
Who always ate a morning banana.
Then one day he ran out.
He wailed an ugly shout:
“Writing’s lost is appeal and manna.”