Having written a poem I now realize I am a genius.
So I take what I want and need not ask forgiveness - because I do these things for you, dear reader. I have stolen William's plums - the ones he originally stole himself. I devoured them. They were, indeed, delicious so sweet and so cold. But I need not ask forgiveness. His plums nourished me as my sweet lyrics now nourish you, dear reader. I watched another William as he plucked silver and golden apples and when he bent over to put them in his sack I plucked him. I plucked him good and hard and for a long time. Then I trampled his dappled grass. But I need not ask forgiveness. His apples sustained me as these graceful notes now sustain you, dear reader. I heard a third William as he obsessed about his stewed prunes, which had caused him to grow horns where his rapidly receding hair had been. I grabbed his wrinkled prunes and squeezed the sour juice. From that weak stream I concocted a cocktail, which I drink to his health even as he steams in the stew. But I need not ask forgiveness. His prunes seduced me, as these charming melodies now seduce you, dear reader. I shall now write my second poem. It will be a sonnet.
Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
Plucking from the best, to replenish your stores? Never mind, their bounty extends to what went before.
The creative rose grows best, when it arises amongst others’ compost.
Haha. Very well put, Liz.
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This is so good! Love it.
Thanks very much, Gwen.