Inspired by the shortest novel ever written, a six word story attributed to Hemingway, I have finally penned the penultimate poem (say that three times fast). My magnum opus. A single-word poem encompassing life, the universe and everything [pan to Douglas Adams turning in his grave].
Having previously unraveled the sound of one hand clapping, my focus is now on solving the conundrum of a single word rhyming. Here’s my poem (and no, it’s not 41 or 43, because that would be silly):
O.k., It doesn’t rhyme and is a bit depressing, but it does convey life’s propensity to just… keep… pounding on us.
For those of you in need of closure, here’s Hemingway’s story (my poem is less depressing, btw):
For sale: baby shoes, never worn.
Beck, my nine year old son, liked my first attempt at writing Haiku and wanted to write some together. I suggested we eat candy and play video games instead, but he forced me to sit on the floor and write with him. By way of punishment, I’m considering taking away his broccoli at dinner.
This time the theme is ancient Japanese building blocks, sometimes known as Legos (might be ancient Denmarkian. Who really knows).
Click them together,
Can’t get the darn things apart,
Bestest toy ever!
Shiny, red Lego,
Fell out of the brick rainbow.
Now it’s in my soup.