Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion

Damn you're good ;)

Thank you, Ryan! I thought the same thing of the one you had posted. It was a challenge to follow.

The tunes, sweet; the bar,
full. Then someone cried, 'Where's the
mechanical bull?'

There came, from the bar,
a drunken shout, then laughter:
“Shirl’s done wore it out!”

In the pre-bull years
three husbands died; no bull dust,
crazy Shirl can ride.

You guys! You're very funny! I think Crazy Shirl deserves her own tale!

Shirl’s lurid story,
soon for sale, was a shocking,
cautionary tale.

Shirl once had her tails,
too many to tell about
except as fiction.

(I had written this for a thread in another group, but prudently refrained from posting it. I realize it’s off topic here.)

Though you may find me
grasping at straws in free verse
ineffectual,

you’ll find my worldview
secure because I’m pseudo-
intellectual.

[Lol! ]

There is a quiet
missing from the intellects
of the pseudo right.

Hers, an intellect
with heft, ground no axes, leaned
neither right nor left,

split a focused beam
like a prism, and was loathed
for her centrism.

Fantastic stuff guys!

Thank you Ryan. Now to follow M's!

Once each month comes her
favourite time-cretins cry,
'Poetry must rhyme!'

Distraught, they followed
the dusty hearse. Verle was now
as dead as her verse.

Though they were inclined
to weep, the dry eulogy
soon lulled them to sleep.

“And that explains why,”
Phil said, “I’m always on fire
to get out of bed.”

Heh.

Heh heh..

Heh heh heh...

Hmm, you both sound creepy :P

He woke up in a
pile of ashes--charred dreams of
a Quarter Pounder.

:-D

He went to pound sand,
That brave mouse in panty hose,
With his friend the dog.

She told the sordid
story, her sentences drawled,
exclamatory.

Monotony speaks
Its dull mind through her story
Power through boredom

No sloth, no moral
laxity compared in scope
with her accidie.

Her acidity
Moved with dull torpidity
And morbidity
And a sloth-like lethargy
That redefined ennui.

In high academe
there were chores, she found, to be
done on bended knee.

Some whispered, of course,
her scores were not what earned her
a master’s degree,

but the goings-on
behind closed doors, till she left
with a Ph.D.

Promiscutity
tainted her perfect record
reputation lost.

Reputable sources
was spoke of an eraser
all faults forgotten.

This she must do now
Inquiries were desperate
The answer was death.

Her inadvertent
recovery began with
her discovery

that in New Age books,
in scholarly articles,
and federal law,

could be found no thought,
but atomic particles
of heads full of straw.

It was the straw men
Who built their edifices
Without foundations.
Their lack of understanding
Was not an impediment.

You guys are just so good at haiku I just can't keep up! Good writing y'all :)

[Thank you Lee-lette. :-) Feel free to jump in, as there is neither keeping up nor falling behind in our versions of Haiku. ;-) ]

He became her impediment,
She understood him not
Maybe t'was because his brain was the size of a dot.

[LOL! Well done!]

[Thanks Guy. Goodnight :)]

[Good night. I'm getting ready to crash for the night too. :-) ]

Pea sized brains make for
Interesting conversation.
green themed dialogue

Spinach and collards
he spoke of way to often
Health vernacular.

I can't come up with anything to follow that!

The old giant squid’s
vernacular was mordant
and tentacular.

Sea friends grumbled, “Worse
than mordant. Squidley’s usage?
Grating, discordant!”

A mollusc doctor
on the high seas said, “You’ve got
tentacle disease.”

He read the Wands, the
Pentacles. Things looked bad for
Squidley’s tentacles.

A miracle cure
left him gloating--a powder
in little packets.

What finished him off
was a floating, stoppered vial
of Dr. Sackett’s.

Dr. Sackett's cure
Had made him world renowned for
Changing peoples life.

Lives changing,
"Sackett" the new household name
Who knew 'curing' people could bring him such fame.

[rotfl! So funny everyone!]

Here lies L. Squidley,
who loved to live, done in
by a laxative.

[Hey, that reminds me of Moose! Nice!]

A clean-shaven cat
He most indubitably was
Feline purrs built him.

Welcome to the haiku game Hattie! :-) Your haiku is and looks fine from here. So nothing wrong. Except one small technicality, which can be and is violated in this group. The syllables ideally follow 5-7-5.

Thank you, Hattie. If you want to avoid the indention, start the verse on the first line or fourth line of the post. The first three lines indent automatically because of the profile picture.

Light the pale candles,
she seemed to say as oak leaves
fell past wavy panes.

How close to the quick,
her antique way! In her eyes,
down leaf-scattered lanes

the farm wagons rolled,
slow, creaking, sagging with thatch
or roped casks of mead,

through the oaks’ shadows,
the last rays streaking old barns,
their fields gone to seed.

From Julie:
From little seeds are
Oak trees growing, strong and tall,
Acorns arising.

The acorn revolt
Started with an acorn's fall
Into the fall's mud.

It refused to grow,
To follow its destiny
Of being just wood.

The acorn exclaimed,
“Why should I aspire to be
a tree of mere wood?”

That’s what the acorn
said, verbatim, just before
a wild hog ate him.