The exercise:
Your four line poem topic this week: these games we play.
Mine:
You say you're sorry but I know better -
Words mean nothing when they come from your mouth.
Beg for one more try but you'll never change,
You will always be the cat to my mouse.
6 comments:
It's a vicious cycle, this reciprocity.
It's a bitter game, these words we say:
"Not me, you go -- you first, then me."
But in order to lose, you have to play...
I decided to take it literally...
Bein' grown up ain't always like Monopoly.
'Though yer go round 'n' round 'n' sometimes to jail.
Bit too much like Scrabble with triple points fer fancy words.
That's why I don't play games with y'all in yer trivial pursuits.
Interesting topic, with no explanation. Has anyone been upsetting you lately, Marc?
These games we play
Tiles clack on an infinite board,
Sweat is wiped from an immortal brow,
"Three more moves to mate," I say,
Knowing that my opponent cheats.
Annie - always lovely to have you stop by :)
That's a great final line too.
Tristan - welcome! Always exciting to see a new face posting :)
I really like where you went with the prompt - great idea and nicely executed.
Greg - ah, no. I was just being lazy and didn't want to explain that it was a nod in the direction of the Olympic games, which are starting here next Friday :)
Ah, the immortal game that none of us can win. Nice.
If I had known the outcome, would I have played;
would I have even followed the rules?
Or would I have cheated, like you did,
to ensure that I win and you lose?
Nicely done, Monica. It's great to see you around here too :)
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