Limerick Eight
The Theatrical One
The musicals showing on Broadway
Have run out of stories to portray.
So, new ones they seize
From older movies —
Just pack in some songs, and it’s pay-day!
◼︎
I eagerly await Silence of the Lambs: The Musical. (Criticism aside, I'm going to see Allegiance, tomorrow. There are still great things happening in theatre.)
I know I promised I would stop at six limericks. But now, I have stopped at eight. Accordingly, your relief is expected to be twenty-five percent greater. You're welcome.
I now return to writing my novel's final scenes ... honest.
I need to stop thinking in rhyme.
I hope I can do it in time.
But on a side-note,
A story I wrote
Is right here. It won’t cost you a dime:
About the Creator
Owen Schaefer
Owen Schaefer is a Canadian writer, editor and playwright living in the U.K. He writes fiction, speculative fiction, and breezy articles on writing, AI, and other nonsense. Attacks of poetry may occur.
More at owenschaefer.com
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Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley5 days ago in Fiction
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