The exercise:
Our four line poems this week shall be about: the factory.
The Canucks decided they wanted one more trip to Nashville before moving on to the next round. I really hope this one doesn't go seven games.
Mine:
All the little workers
Are lined up in a row;
They work hard together
To make my perfect foe.
Signed,
A Very Bored Batman
4 comments:
The Factory
You just can’t tell what’s made inside
No windows stained, no gods adorned
What would I gain in a space so plain
So uniformed, unadvertised
@Caffeinated Mystic: I like the rhythm of your poem, but I'm not sure I really understand it.
@Marc: Well, you can't say the Canucks aren't giving you your money's worth this season!
I had to laugh at poor Batman, forced to resort to creating himself a worthy enemy!
The Factory
In the factory we work till the whistle blows,
At least, that's what the owner knows.
Some days we only work till three,
And then we leave and pretend we're free!
Hi Greg :)
A great poem doesn't need explanation... this one's not great, but it was fun lol:)
There's a church down the street from me that has no windows, and I was remembering how that made me feel when I drove passed.
Mystic - the explanation increased my appreciation for the poem. I would also be intrigued by such a church.
Greg - that sounds like my kind of factory.
Wait, I don't have a kind of factory.
You get the idea :P
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