Saturday November 28th, 2015

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: coughing.

Had a bit of a festive day around here. Visited a Christmas craft fair in town this morning, put up some lights and decorations around the house after lunch, and then checked out a nearby winery's festival of trees event just before dinner.

Little earlier than usual, but it seemed like the things to do with a Saturday that had nothing on the calendar. Max appreciated it, at any rate. Even while putting up with his newest cold.

And Kat enjoyed it as well, despite her lingering cold.

If anyone needs me, I'll just be over in this corner pretending that I'm not about to get sick again.


It starts with a tickle,
Of the worst possible kind.
It feathers my throat and...
Find something to hide behind!


Greg said...

You do seem to acquire colds quite well as a family; you should look for a way to monetise that! And you could add a new blog about your life as an experimental animal :-D Still, I hope you're going to miss out on the next couple of colds.
Sounds like a fun day; mine was relatively uneventful (I'll hear more about Malta next week I expect) apart from having fun with the spam comments. Which you appeared to notice (*blushes*).
Heh, I'm choosing to believe that your poem is boasting about the power of your coughs to pebbledash anything in front of you. It makes me giggle.

She bounded into the taxi and yelled: "Stop that coffin!"
I had the pedal to the metal, hitting sixty out from nothing.
We tracked the hearse for forty miles until it stopped in Wapping,
Then she pressed a gun to my head and muttered "I said, stop coughing".

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, we've got a real knack for it. I shall begin exploring this area for career opportunities immediately!

This is a delightfully fun poem. Great to read, great little story squeezed into four lines... well done, sir :D