"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Mourn the morn

Day 24: Write a lipogram/Beautiful Outlaw/Beautiful In-Law (explained in more detail in the prompt). I'm choosing lipogram for the letter "i," which means I'm not allowed to use it in this entire poem.

Bow before the sun.
After all, she rose early for you,
woke you from whatever
bloated slumber kept you
lost between dreams
far past your allotted hours.

Two years have past,
and yet spaces stay empty,
though you haven't worked out
whether your thoughts command
or your cosmos plays games
to keep you stuck beneath.

PS: It was so freaking hard not using any "ing" words in this. No need for further discussion; I just want you all to know how difficult it was.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Fool's Gold, Surprise Hotel

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