Prose and poetry,
poetry and prose
makes my head ache
and tickles my nose.

How shall I start
as my eyes start to cross,
I crumple the paper --
Another trashcan toss.

I'm getting quite good
with my paper toss free throw,
Maybe I should stop writing,
NBA forwards go,

A new career to start,
throw away all the paper,
Give my partner a scare -
what a fun caper!

Pen and ink, ink and pen,
printer, paper and scanner,
Come over here, words,
and I'll make you a banner!

Pen and ink, ink and pen,
words bubble and streak,
come home to me now,
and then again next week!

Sinus aches.

Oh, someday the spring will come.

But today I am gifted with a sinus headache. What joy.

Morning,
if today I do not greet you
with my usual gusto,
ready to see what you have in store for me,
It is not my fault.
Your sister Night
teased me in my sleep,
nudging me just enough
that I thought she was Miss Twilight,
and how long I lay there,
not quite asleep,
not quite awake,
as Night dragged it out forever.
And now I sit here,
heavy eyed,
and wish for the rest
she took from me.
Ah well. Perhaps Lady Midday
will look upon me kindly
and gift me with a nap.

Another wftd exercise in words - truthiness

Forsooth!
the truth,
I ruth,
is not uncouth -
truthiness
a cutsiness
somehow is less
veritas.