Wake up your poetry brains with 15 Words or Less (guidelines are here)!
Here’s the key lime pie I shared yesterday from a Lerner author dinner during NCTE. Looks a little odd, but oh my goodness, it was heaven.
This picture makes me think of:
- My frequent cooking disasters–which both look AND taste a little…weird
- Modern art
- A puddle of pie
And, here’s my first draft. I was grateful for the thesaurus, since I was a couple of words over the limit. Which is NOT allowed, people! So I replaced “and drink up the sky” with “just swallow the sky” and made a couple other tweaks to meet the 15-word restriction. Whew!
It’s your turn! Have fun and stick to 15 WORDS OR LESS! (Title doesn’t count toward word count:>) If you leave a poem in the comments, and if it’s 15 words or less, I’ll try to respond!
49 Responses
MY CHILD, THE FOOD CRITIC
I dished it out
and it went splat!
Just one look-
“I won’t eat that!”
Meant to add, Laura, that I love your poem! That would be better than tasting snowflakes, any day!
Very cute. Their loss and more for you. 🙂
Thanks, Cindyb!
Kids and Gordon Ramsay!
Oh, no! Splat is kind of unappealing, isn’t it?
Love your poem today, Laura. One of my favorites. Here’s mine:
Tastes the Same
Wanted to cry.
My beautiful pie
a liquid lost cause.
Swapped forks for straws.
Great idea! Straws! Love your rhymes!
Thanks! Love the problem-solving in here:>) I definitely would’ve slurped that up like a milkshake if they’d have given me an even bigger serving…
Funny! From now on, all umbrellas shall remind me of your poem.
Just don’t lick your umbrella!
Love the line, “swallow the sky.”
Toasted marshmallow
on a dollop of pie?
A taste of heaven
for you to try.
A marshmallow can make everything right!
Thanks, Margaret–I love the word dollop:>)
My absolute favorite pie in the whole world. And if you ever have the opportunity, try a slice of key lime cake. Loved your verse Laura. Yummy.
Going with my first reaction, perfect fetus and top left a mother holding an infant. This adds an new dimension to “weird” Laura.
Progression
Seed planted,
fed, watered,
nurtured.
Embryo evolves,
leaves temporary shelter
leaps into loving arms.
I can see it. Not sure if I’d want to eat it after seeing it!
this is wonderful; I like 4and and the last nine
Oh my gosh–thank you for making me look at this pic in a whole new way! And what a lovely poem. Will keep an eye out for key lime cake. The one I’ve seen was lime green!
The one and only key lime cake I have had was one my family provided for a birthdays ending in a big 5! The layers were yellow but it was the key lime pie filling between the layers and for the icing which was covered in toasted almonds.
Yum.
Love it. Eat that awful mess?
Never on your life.
A spoonful, maybe. Oh yes, yes, yes.
Love the enthusiasm after the spoonful.
It’s like you were THERE, Connie:>)
Interesting pie. I’ll take your word for it, Laura, it may have tasted good, but it doesn’t look like a pie. It reminds me of back when one of my granddaughters was sitting at the table crying because she didn’t want to eat one of my casseroles. So here’s my effort.
Grandma’s Cooking
I love your chicken,
I love your rolls.
But I don’t like
your casseroles!
Poor Grandma — Nice rhyming!
Oh, Pat. I’m sorry, but this made me laugh out loud! I’m a somewhat picky eater still, but I was very picky as a kid. I can remember being forced to eat potato patties (horrible leftover mashed potatoes griddled into little pancakey things) before I could leave the table. I finally gagged and got sick:>/ Ah, childhood memories. Thanks for the laugh of your story, though. Hope you share it with your granddaughter!
Loved “swallow the sky”!
Sorry, but this just reminded me of my childhood days with our backyard chickens. Sometimes you had to look where you were stepping with those bare feet!
Are You Loopy?
Droopy, goop,
Drooly soup!
Have a scoop
Of chicken poop!
Really, though, I’d try this (not the chicken poop!) because I’ve made things that end up looking so horrible, yet were quite tasty.
Love the sounds in this one, but no scoop of poop soup for me!
Yes- my chickens must be great chefs!
I can imagine a gang of eight year olds chanting this one!
Thanks, Donna. Oh, gross! What a fun kid poem. Luckily, the “pie” was super delicious.
I love to eat
my scrambled eggs
as long as they
do not sprout legs.
—Kate Coombs
Yeah, no eggs with legs for me either!
This made me chuckle, Kate…
Eeeeuuuw. I can see kids writing more verses. I love to eat my ____, as long as they/it do not ____. Fun way to play with rhyme:>)
Sunday Mooring / Sunday Night
momma-Sky frying
skillet’s of Sunnyside up’s
shouting ‑shouting
church at nine
I can’t what till five
mamma-sky serving up
slice’s of moon custard pie
yummy — yummy ‑yum
poem By Jessica Bigi I love your poem Laura
I like the last 2 lines Sorry I went over today this was
not an easy pic to wright to today
How Keylimed Became a Verb and a Family Legend (A True Story)
One slice ordered.
Intention? To share.
One fork busy…
Storyteller, beware!
Ha! Can just imagine in our family having one of us being “keylimed” while talking instead of eating! Love those family “inside jokes”!
Love the last 2 lines
Ha! I love how you work a narrative in and the reader can fill in the gaps.
That looks… unusual for Key Lime Pie…
We sing after supper
in Florida’s key
Cheers for citrus
Forks up, if you please!
Or spoons! It was ugly but delicious. A key lime underdog:) You’re so clever with your music wordplay.
What a mess
She says in jest
Let’s take a look
at all the rest
Anne McKenna
Maybe not even in jest;)
Is This How the Salem Witchcraft Trials Got its Start?
‑Pamela Ross
Behold!
Image of the devil
in details!
Cursed. Kill pies!
Hysteria
descends
From evil eyes
Ooh, where are you seeing the devil? Is it on the left lobe of cream/meringue, with a long cloak and raised arms? I love the commanding tone you used!
Making me laugh.
I can only command in tone on paper.
Tone in real life? I am the role model for The Wimpy Kid. ;>
Look at the right side of the photo.
There’s his face.
Do you not see the orange circle for the devil’s eye?
And then that wicked horn rising from the top right of his head?
It’s the devil I tell ya.
Hide your children.
Lock the doors.
Repent now.
Write more poetry.
Talk less. (That’s a Hamilton soundtrack joke. Forgive me.)
The Devil Made me Do It. ;>
I don’t see it! I feel so left out. Oh, well–surely you’re right and writing more poetry will cast that devil out:>)
Hmmm. Wait. What does it say about ‑me- if I am the only one to see the devil?
Am I the cursed one? ;>
(Or, I’m sorry, The Versed One?)
xoxo