The reign in Splain Falls /
manely on the plane. /
And what misses goes down in Seine. /
I cried a river when you road the train. /
Me heart aorta be of a tougher strain. /
The reign in Splain Falls /
manely on the plane. /
It splatters against the window, /
but I feel no pane.
Filed under 2020, Photo Finish Friday, Poetry by David E. Booker
There once was a writer from Memph-is
Whose poetry was all full of guess-is
About the nature of sex.
Was it a blessing or a hex?
And if all things were bigger in Tex-is.
There once was a writer from Sandusky /
Who was tall and a little bit husky. /
He wrote every day. /
He was a poet they say. /
And his clothes wore a wee bit crusty.
Filed under 2020, CarToonsday
Filed under 2020, CarToonsday
Once a science fiction writer moved to Saskatchewan. /
He heard that’s where all the aliens had gone. /
They’d landed there /
For the Canadian healthcare /
And belief that they could belong.
Two writers went to the same doctor’s office on the same day. She told each one he didn’t have long to live.
“It’s awful,” said the first writer. “I’m right in the middle of a novel and she’s only given me six months to live. I’ll never get it finished. What about you?”
“It’s awful for me, too,” said the second writer. “She gave me three years to live.”
“Three years!” the first writer said. “Three years! What’s so awful about that?”
“I write short stories,” the second writer said. “And I’m fresh out of ideas.”
Filed under 2020, joke by author, Monday morning writing joke
There once was a writer at night
Who wrote all the way to daylight.
His stories were grand
About a sun-drenched land
But his descriptions were never quite right.
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