Prescription for Writers
© Carol Ann Erhardt, 5-16-2007
Doctor, I have a problem
With words I have a way,
But more and more I find myself
Not writing every day.
Can you prescribe a magic pill
To cure this writer's pain?
Something that will free my mind
And help me write again?
The doctor scribbled on a pad
Then handed this to me,
"If you choose to be a writer
Then that is what you'll be."
"Sit your butt upon a chair
And grab a writing pad,
Place the pen upon its page
Write something, good or bad."
"Follow an ageless author's rule
Write one word at a time."
And soon my words were flowing
In this silly little rhyme.
I've always loved writing silly poems. Here's one I wrote a few years ago in response to a challenge to write an "uplifting" poem...
Betty Baker's Bra
© Carol Ann Erhardt
Betty Baker at eighty-one,
Bought a Wonder Bra, just for fun.
She pushed and pulled to stuff them in,
Mounds of cleavage, oh joyous sin!
She pranced and posed in nervous glee,
Alone in her room at half past three.
To show her stuff at dinner time,
A low cut blouse would let her shine.
She scissored and sewed a sensuous top,
Had a shot of Tequila, then combed her mop.
She weaved her way through the dining hall,
Of the old folks home. Oh, what a ball!
Freddie Foster fell out of his chair,
Benjamin Johnson lost his hair.
Harriet Jones turned an envious green,
Bobby Tucker choked on a bean.
Then lo and behold that bra let go,
And poor Betty's cleavage dropped so low.
She toppled over in a dish of stew,
Where she lay until her face turned blue.
Adam Cook lost his feeding tube,
When Homer Trout ran over her boob.
Now they say that place hasn't been the same
Since Betty Baker had her moment of fame.
My mind seems to run in strange directions sometimes. Like tonight when I didn't receive the responses from the author who was supposed to be interviewed on my blog tomorrow. **sigh** Sometimes I wonder if my email address is falling into everyone's spam folder.
Have a wonderful Thursday!