Poem Chain

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I’m going to attempt to start a game. Make a poem/rhyme that feeds off of the previous persons poem.

I’ll start.

The cup next to me is blue
I went to grab it and then went “Achoo”
It turns out that cup was a pile of dust
Purchasing a new cup is a must

Free verse:

The Mousterians were Neanderthal toolmakers.

Incipient Imagination entered their Domain
Flowers were placed amongt their Dearly Departed.

Before Israel, there were the Mousterians.
Was the Cave Bear their One God?

Haiku:

The cup lives as dust
A metaphor for our lives
Where is the dustpan

Dustpan is American,
Dustbin is British.

I hope the vast English language
Doesn't make you Skittish....

Skittish scattered Sally soaks in sunshine
Seemingly sedate but
Secretly savoring the stillness
In shadows

Daphne Delicious Deemed Alliterative Apples Delightful.

Carlos Williams came, consuming Fruit Floats from Iridescent Icebox

Upon composing Danse Russe.

Sally Says
Send Silly Sarah a
Sexy Sapphire
Somatized Solitudounous
Songster Sanguine Simon
Solicitously Says
Satan Sucks
So scintillatingly scientific
Sally Says

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In reply to MjrMajorMajor ...posted just before me kraftie..

Simply
Internally
Musingly
Overtly
Nimbly

Simon: simple yet cogent.

Sally
Arousing
Long tall
Lithe
Yet limber

Fireflies flew the coop

They are now in the Soup…delighting devilishly yet wanting to be debonair…..

Difficult amid split-pea proclivities.

Deborah,
Ever so
Brilliant and
Beautiful
Yet for
Naught, she's
Asexual...
Interested in no
Relationships

A polished social image, yet when you look at her lips, you can see that they are chipped.

What lies behind such blue eyes, could it be my demise?

Her mind is up in the skies, her spirit starts to rise.

All the boys and girls swoon, but she just wants them to leave.

For you see, she's got an ace up her sleeve.

She's excellent at darts, but in a game of hearts she will not partake.

However, she is partial to cake.

"At the risk of being pedantic, I'm also aromantic".

No need for the world to act so frantic.

Acting frantic she tripped and hurt her hip as she slipped.

When she hit she busts out in a fit , "s**t is this my demise?"

Her body lies in surprise, she realise and trys to rise, grabs her thighs.

And nearly cry's, she has achieved, I believe, a bust knee.

For she did not take heed, and now suffers and does grieve .

Silly as it seems, she took a break, for some cake, and was forsake .

Her legs did take, a nasty bruising from the shake, now they ache.

"Awake, at the risk of being hospitalized, I also bleed drastic".

"Not to be pedantic, but I should not act so frantic, when I feel aromantic."

Deborah my dear, for a woman so skilled at darts, you sure have falling right down to an art.

Now come on, get off the ground, that'd be a start.

It's a good thing I put bandages and Band-Aids in the cart.

Band-aids are plasters.

Wounds are no master.

Master Blaster:

Stevie Wonder—who never blundered,

Had a thundered

Harmony

Which came round and round
Below and over the ground.

Scintillating with rhythm.

Grammys were a given

With him.