As we know from my pre-Mother's Day blog, the small one turns four on Monday. Someone else near and dear to our hearts will be turning fifty the day before. Yes, my friends, some of whom may have already entered, Chip MacGregor is holding his annual really bad poetry contest. Last year, I did not win with my epic ode, which is good, since it means I'm not bad. This year, I'm playing it short and sweet.
Oh the pressure!!
I sit on my couch trying to think of something witty
A perfect little ditty
To celebrate the half century of the life of a man named Chip.
But all I can think about is dip.
Lays, anyone?
Yep, there it is... the brilliance that is Danica. And a lesson to you all in why thinking that it's so much easier to have the kiddos over to your house is a really bad idea formulated in the fumes from household cleaning supplies.
3 comments:
There once was a woman named Danica
Who wrote things quite in a panica.
She penned a wild verse
It went from so bad to worse
And now Danica is nearly manica.
See? Why stick with words that, well, really exist?
That's what CREATIVE writing is all about!
PS: I am not demeaning the sheer brilliance of your poem. CHIP and DIP. The more I think about it, the more I like it.
Of course, you realize what you've done. If he's at the conference in Sept., I won't be able to even look at him without thinking of Ruffles!
You know... not in all of my angst-filled teenage years did anyone pen such an inspiring poem about me. I think that deserves an award of some sort. *putting on thinking cap*
And obviously, I'm not as talented of a writer as I'd like to think because I wrote about LAYS, not Ruffles. *sigh* I guess I don't have a career in advertising.
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