No sonnet from me, I’m sorry to say. Someday, maybe, but not today. Fourteen lines with fifty words? That’s less than four each. It’s for the birds. No day at the beach. Write like Shakespeare? Perhaps, I could. I’d need beer. Not sure I should. Screw it. Let’s do it.

Monkey brush Orange dust Naughty clogs Duck polish Apple wand Yvette handed Jeff the shopping list and he started to think something was up.

My alarm blasts its evil chime, Obnoxiously declaring the end of my slumber. No more pressing of the snooze button. Don’t want to get up, but I must. Another week begins, another weekend gone. Yuck, Monday.

Day two of poetry week and we look at Limericks. Often filled with humour, they follow a strict structure. Five lines long. First Two – 7 to 10 syllables Next Two – 5 to 7 syllables. Last Line – 7 to 10 syllables. In a AABBA structure of rhyme. See our example at 50horridwords!

There once was a dog called Pig Whose body was golden and big He’d roll in the dirt Woof, oink and burp Wearing a six-foot pink wig

50 Horrid Words

There once was a kid who made a mistake. It gave him a rep he just couldn’t shake. Can’t undo, already too late. Shame that it sealed his fate. He's known as the kid whose mustache was fake.

Although we set a limit of 50 words for our writing, there’s nothing wrong with it being shorter and powerful, so today’s poem form is Haiku. 3 lines long, with each line having a strict syllable structure: Line One – 5 Line Two -7 Line Three – 5 Good luck!

He hoped Wednesday Was three syllables long and Hoped no-one counted

Reverberation. Echo, echo, echo, eck. Reverberation.

The great wide open horizon, inviting us, stretching far across.

For today’s prompt we are looking at Pastoral Poetry, no form, structure, or set rhyming patterns, the poem must however focus on nature in all its beauty.

Really nice 🌲

Inspired by Alex Price 📕 daily series, we are looking at cinquains. A poem that is formed of five lines, in the strict syllable structure of: Line One: 2 Line Two: 4 Line Three: 6 Line Four: 8 Line Five: 2 For our topic, we are picking the word: Fangs. Good luck!

the leaves began falling down no wait off taking birds were they

He left his fangs in deep and waited for the death to grow in Jeff’s neck. Jeff giggled and yawned.

Bite me. Suck my blood, please. Let me have what you have. Eternal life. Foreverness. Bite me.

Today’s poem is an Elegy. No rules, but the subject matter is death. Often written about a loved one to be performed at a funeral, we want you create a character, and write an elegy for them.