The Ultimate Love Poem :: Comedy Open Mic Round 11

Over at The Writers Block, in the dark, dusty corners and chambers lit by flickering wicks we fling about bits of fiction all day, hoping they will randomly assemble into glorious constructs of prose. It's rare, but sometimes it actually happens.

This post does not illustrate one of those glorious moments, however.

Often enough, though, real life trouble dips its hoary head into our toils and we're forced to turn our attention to helping one of our members in resolving an issue in whatever way we can.

Yesterday, one of our editors was stricken with a minor problem.

A problem that only The Writer's Block could solve.

Iridium Dawn - Today at 12:34 PM
Shit! Just got a message from my wife saying, "Takeaway for anniversary dinner?"


Iridium Dawn - Today at 12:40 PM
Crap. Now the kids are texting me too...


bex-dk the story whisperer - Today at 12:50 PM
Write her a poem John! You're supposed to be a writer


Iridium Dawn - Yesterday at 12:56 PM
Yeah, Bex but I never claimed to be a poet. I don't think a limerick is gonna cut it. There was a young man from Benduckit...

Naturally, being the helpful soul that I am, I wanted to assist. I put my mental flint to the tinder of an idea and conjured up a flaming pile of lovesick poetry that would make John's wife melt in his arms. Once she got tired of slapping him, that is.

negativer - Today at 12:58 PM
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Stop texting me,
And tell our kids to stop too.

I hope he appreciates it.

_{Title image by @negativer using Canva and image from Pexels.}

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