now certain that its chance had come and gone, fell to its metal knees and wept aloud
My kindle battery used to last three months, but now I’m lucky if it lasts a week
Although the smell of pine cones filled her nose, she clenched her teeth and swung the club again
The lights were dimmed, the curtain was drawn back, when Neil remembered 3-D made him sick.
Vanilla Ice had found the perfect riff. His thoughts now turned to what to name his song.
I found an exercise from when I tried to write iambic lines that didn’t rhyme, encouraged by a book by Stephen Fry that sits collecting dust somewhere, I think. I’ll post a couple here because I’m bored, and poetry seems like it’s in this week. Back in my younger days I’d have a go at turning one or two into a song, but I’m not sure that would have really worked because the R-8 struggled with 5/4 (but then again who needs a drum machine when you can bang a mallet on a VAX.) THE END
Former drum machine programmer. Loyal troubleshooter.
Consider this a friendly, local pub. Make yourself at home, bring your friends, have a good time! Meet new people, have a laugh, enjoy the ambience, and the Oxford commas.