The best linen rests /
surrounded by plates and pie. /
Scraps become compost.
A turkey and a writer walked into a local bar.
The turkey thought the writer could make him a flying star.
“I’ll tell you my life story and then you’ll write it down.
“And we’ll split all the profits when a publisher is found.”
The writer had heard such talk and promises before,
But with his feathers spread, the turkey was too big to ignore.When the loud fowl finished gobbling about his wonderful life
The writer reached into his tattered pocket and drew out his carving knife.
What happen next to the turkey, we’re not sure we can ever tell
Only that the poor writer liked the bird, but only medium well.
Now, let this be a lesson about where the writer will start.
The pen may be mightier than the sword, but the knife can cut to the heart.
–by David E. Booker
There once was a struggling writer in town /
Who made ends meet by being a clown. /
He could be quite the performer, /
Juggling balls on the street corner. /
But in his stories the balls always dragged the ground.
I went to buy some camouflage trousers the other day but I couldn’t find any.