I forgot to do this on Friday and remembered late last night. The theme this week is a request from Zenbie.

"I can sympathise, really. You're tiny and frail"

20 January 2008

I can sympathise, really. You're tiny and frail
And you've no armour-plating, not even a tail,
Not to mention those teeth come to little avail—
You're like wise little worms—
So this saddling business I'll let you assail
On conditional terms.

But the nose-mounted maser is awkward and square
And the tack to support it unpleasant to wear
For it pinches and rubs—it's as well I've no hair
Or I'd suffer a pluck—
My reptilian muzzle's more comf'table bare
So you're shit out of luck.

The form is called a Burns stanza, which I grabbed at random because it's Burns supper season. The meter is anapestic tetrameter and dimeter. Or it is unless I screwed up, ROFL.

As a bonus because this was late, I'll transcribe my notes from last night with the crap stanza I wrote purely to remind me how the format I'd chosen is supposed to go.

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