The pile of mugs grows bigger,
A monument to my vigour.
I drank through the night,
For deadlines in sight!
Now I am awake and I quiver.
The pile of mugs grows bigger,
A monument to my vigour.
I drank through the night,
For deadlines in sight!
Now I am awake and I quiver.
I cannot knot this knot;
It tightens itself when it ought not.
I follow the guide,
But strands slip aside:
My efforts all come to naught!
I lie awake in the night,
Listening, through the lack of light.
For a mouse in my attic,
Whose movements are erratic,
so small, has me all affright.
A cube with six colours so bright,
Kept me puzzled from morning to night.
I’d twist and I’d turn,
With frustration I’d burn:
’til at last! Every face came out right.
In November the chill starts to bite,
And the days trade their blue for twilight.
The leaves have turned gold,
And the air is crisp and cold,
And the day quickly turns to night.
Verily, I like an acrostic!
Even when writing a limerick
Rritten just so…
Seems my spelling’s a no-go
Especially when I write them quick.
The forecasters told us of Claudia,
A storm that could induce nausea,
The rain came down fast,
The wind had a blast-
And left us all wetter and gaudier.
I was pedalling home through the rain,
My legs and my patience in pain.
A car gave a splash,
My hopes turned to ash:
Next time I’ll just take the train!
The rain on my window went “plink,”
So I stayed on the sofa to think.
But I started to doze
Then, deep in repose…
I floated away in a wink.
I wish the clocks didn’t go back,
This darkness has thrown me off track.
By four it feels night,
No sunlight in sight,
My motivation’s under attack!