The exercise:
Your prompt today: the heist.
Two more days of work to go! And I'm getting taken out for lunch both days!
Life is good.
Mine:
Get out of bed, boys,
We’re gonna have some fun.
Grab your coats, boys,
And don’t forget your guns.
The night is young, lads,
But we’re all getting old.
Father Time is cruel, lads,
So let’s do something bold.
The casinos, boys,
Their cash is within our reach.
Beds made of money, boys,
And lifetimes on a beach.
Duck and cover, lads,
The bullets are flying.
It’s all gone wrong, lads,
There’s just no denying.
Time to retreat, boys,
Let us escape these gents.
We need a new plan, boys,
To fund retirement.
5 comments:
Marc- I liked your poem, which surprised me. I rarely like repeating words. Feels a little Dr. Suessish most times. But I think it made your piece work really well. I was practically singing the end.
----
It had been a tiring day. The children screamed, for one reason or another, starting before the alarm clock went off and ending only when I tucked the blanket around them under the shining stars of night time. I was exhausted. Tired beyond belief! Sitting on the kitchen island, my Daiquiri ingredients were calling to me. 'Let me take care of you,' they promised.
I bent down and kissed my son, then my daughter. "Please mommy, don't go," my son pleaded.
"Stay mommy!" my daughter begged.
"Tell us a story," they said.
I was sure I could hear the ice cubes melting next to the warming Triple Sec. "Please mommy?" said two soft voices in the background of my thoughts.
Drowning my alcohol dreams with a deep breath, I began. "It wast thought to be the greatest heist of all time...." The hooligans' eyes glowed expectantly.
Heather - I tend to use it sparingly, but this poem just seemed to call for it. Glad you liked it :)
"Drowning my alcohol dreams with a deep breath..." is an awesome line.
Heya,
Wow yesterday was busy, and I was ill for the latter half of it, so I completely missed getting here. I'm sorry about that!
@Heather: I agree with Marc, that's a fantastic line, and a lovely sentimental story.
@Marc: I liked your poem too, it reminds me of the Italian Job (original, Michael Caine version) somehow :)
The heist
Diamonds spilled all over the floor like so much crushed ice. Sylvestra glared at the Green Lightbulb, who started popping and fizzing with rage.
"This is supposed to be a HEIST!" she screamed, hurling her purse at him like a hammer thrower. "Not whatever you think it is!"
"I... I thought you said you wanted a hearse," said the Green Lightbulb, the light in his eyes dying slowly.
A car horn honked, and Sylvestra turned with a sick feeling of dread in her stomach. There, proceeding gracefully up the road, holding up the police cars, was a black hearse bedecked with flowers.
"Run!" she screamed.
Greg - ah, I'd wondered where you'd gone off to. I hope you're feeling better now!
I love the idea of the hearse holding up the police cars :)
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