The exercise:
So long, November. It's been interesting.
Your prompt today: you just don't get it.
More fun at work this morning.
Mine:
I am losing my mind.
But I'm an optimist,
So I'll tell you one more time.
The first ten times you missed
Were my fault, to be sure.
So, next time: do it like this.
I will keep my thoughts pure.
I will not swear at you, Bill.
But... you're dumb and there's no cure.
Now I'm feeling quite ill,
Cause you just don't get it,
And I know you never will.
Leave me for a minute,
If you would be so kind;
I need to nap for a bit.
3 comments:
Heh, well I know the feeling of dealing with (or trying to deal with) people who just don't get it. I wish you all the patience in the world to deal with that person :)
The poem's very clever too, I like the way the rhyme scheme progresses through the verses, though it seems to stutter just a little in the penultimate verse. Is that deliberate?
You just don't get it
"Waiter!" you cried,
In imperious tones,
"There's a fly in my soup,
It has died."
"It's not a fly," I said,
"It's a crouton."
"I don't care," you said back,
"It's not dead."
And how can that be?
It's bread, toasted until
It goes crisp.
It was never alive, you see.
So I took back your plate,
With your soup and your crouton,
And never came back;
I left you to wait.
You just don't get it.
Hah, thanks. I need it, some days. Today was better at least.
The final one was somewhat deliberate. Kind of a sense of giving up to it, I think.
Nice take on the prompt. I like the 'and how can that be?' response :)
WTF? Somewhere between yesterday and today I became middle aged. My mind hasn't worked this out yet, but my body today is full unwelcome aches. What's going on? I thought ageing was meant to be gradual, graceful, but suddenly I find myself worn out and looking for a comfortable sofa to crash on. "Dear, have you seen my slippers?" Do I even own slippers?
Where is she?
Probably with a younger man.
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