Scrabble Poetry #2
Please, don't nap
while following the map.
Or do, if the sap falls,
golden, in a pan...
Find a penny by a sea,
stop the oil flowing free,
the lamb on the flea.
A mound of bells,
mullberries fallen
by the bushel.
Stop the bustle now,
and mop the mirror,
rip that rim, or rib.
Pickles in a lime brine
are now in their prime.
There's a fire in the mire
a dire pyre, climbing higher.
Some wire strings
for your singing lyre.
The vent's bent now,
that dented minty tint,
a pin on a bin
will make quite a din:
bing, ting ding.
Or ring, if you want
Makes me think of something a traveling singer would sing in medieval days!
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Hello Clara. I am sorry I just forget to comment on your blog post. I liked very the beautiful composition of scrabble poetry. To have such composition needs creativity and you do have it. May you continue to compose such poetry to bring glory to God.
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