This
morn-
ing is
far from soar –
my soul is flat sprat
on the ground and friendless. Go mope,
I tell myself, now
is the right
time for
sore.
Go.
morn-
ing is
far from soar –
my soul is flat sprat
on the ground and friendless. Go mope,
I tell myself, now
is the right
time for
sore.
Go.
– Leonard “Downer” Blumfeld (© 2008)
Sunday Scribblings #111 soar/sore for personal treatment.
LB:
ReplyDelete"my soul is flat sprat
on the ground and friendless"
Nicely, if sadly, done. By all means mope on until the next soar.
Peace.
I like the mirrored fib!
ReplyDeleteah, the anticipation
Clever reversal of the usual sentiment. Go back to bed and pull the covers over your head. Mope to your heart's content. (Now THAT was an oxymoron!)
ReplyDeleteI don't quite know what a "fib" is, but I like what you have expressed here. Sometimes we need to mope...too much cheerfulness doesn't allow for serious growth.
ReplyDeletemurat11, gautami, Granny Smith, lilibeth: Thank you all for visiting and commenting! I did have a good extended moping session.
ReplyDeletelilibeth: a fib is a poem syllabically built according to fibonacci (mathematical) rules.
Click here for all of my fibs if interested in more. I use the form for a variety of contents, not only the quippy, funny type mostly associated with it.
Quite clever - I've been known to indulge a good mope now and then. But after awhile, it gets dull under those covers!
ReplyDeleteAmen brother!
ReplyDeleteMurat11 knows a nice set of words when he sees it.
So do i
Next week then?
See you there...
:-)
Marvelous, Leonard! Great soar/sore fib! :D
ReplyDelete