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“Beware of advice—even this.” —Carl Sandburg, “It ain’t whatcha write - it’s the way atcha write it.” — Jack Kerouac, “The road to hell is paved with adverbs.” —Stephen King
Scattered scraps of stories,
Tinted tithes of tales.
Half-formed paper lives,
Fiction flights and flails.
Shreds of sweeping stanzas,
Tears of patchy passion.
Torn and stapled sagas,
Scripts sit blurred and ashen.
Loosely draped précis,
Themes almost addressed.
Hordes of pushy prose –
Ambiguous when pressed.
Sketched out personalities,
Characters barely there.
Histories scantily dressed,
The demanding prose declares;
Write me.
Write me.
Right me.
WRITE ME.
They cry.
And sometimes…
I do.
Too.
I just checked, and I am the first to like this, a fact I am quite proud of, however, it does concern me that others have not liked this as well. Perhaps they will, and I should wait before muttering to myself “What the hell’s wrong with people, they ignorant or somethin'”?
The President and Founder (hiding and waiting)
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I’m chuffed that you would wonder at their ignorance at not liking this. Interestingly enough though, your comment was hidden in my spam folder! As though to thwart you having made it to first place, which seems rather churlish, or indeed sneaky on the part of ‘The Powers that Be’. Whoever they may be. I’m glad I found you in the end, and well done at getting in first!
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I like, I think it quite excellent in fact, purely poetic and drenched in wit, but I’m just now checking my mail. And I see there is another from sonmicloud that I shall read soon.
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Why thank you Peter, I am honoured you think so. ‘Excellent’ has me very pleased indeed! *curtsies.
-sonmicloud
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