The Drug of Choice

To the lovely troyswann
I may have written you a nonsense birthday rhyme. ::Hides::

A Birthday Missive of Unusual Irrelevance and Oddness

I do not know what happens here,
It could be anything, I fear,
It could be trees a-fallen down,
It could be snow thick on the ground,
It could be wolves ranged all around,
It could be bears, it could be bears!!

The whole thing's giving me a scare
My knees are quaking hard, I swear,
It could be moose loose on the path,
It could be a giant giraffe,
It could be mermaids in the bath,
It could be bears, it could be bears!!

Upon this birthday, bright and fair*
I'll send you smiles and hugs and care!
I'll wish you were not woe'd with flu,
I'll wish you were not feeling blue,
But still, at least, remember do,
It wasn't bears, it wasn't bears!!


(*And if the day is not bright and fair I still send the smiles and hugs and care :))

Happy Birthday, Sal! ::runs::

So, I came to make a random post, and found LJ asking me if I wanted to retrieve a draft. Huh, I thought. Ok. And this was it:


Poetry iz hard.

Have you ever been wedded to a rhyme/turn of phrase/words so much that you cling tightly to it/them, even if you are beginning to doubt it/they work?

Do you sculpt away at the thing til it works, damn it! or scrap it and start that bit over?

Sometimes I do just have to poke at a thing over and over til it takes form. But then again


I have no idea when I wrote this and only a vague idea what it refers to. And you can see something must have interupted me (hence a auto-saved draft) because of the lack of full stop at the end.

But, actually the questions still stand. Poke at it, or scrap it?