If You’re So Inclined

Chel Owens

In celebration of an upcoming commercial holiday and to help inspire others to enter The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest, I will write a love poem every day this week.

I also write today’s tale in response to Carrot Ranch‘s weekly writing prompt.*

A simple man, though good and kind
Went walking down the sidewalk line
And saw a simple womankind.
He thought, She looks, to me, quite fine.
Meanwhilst, she glanced in mirrored shrine;
Of café window, ‘neath a sign
And told herself she was quite pline;
Till, seeing, side and just behind
Our simple man, in quite the bind.
Then, from his cellphone, played a chime:
‘Twas evening of Day Valentine.
She smiled, asked, “Have you the time?”
He smiled, too; said, “Not yet nine.
“Would you,” he paused, “Want to be mine
“For supper, now it’s time to dine?”

jez-timms-157465-unsplash

 

*Carrot Ranch’s official rules:
February 7, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a sign. It can be a posted sign, a universal sign, a wonder. Go where the prompt leads.

Respond by February 12, 2019. Use the comment section below to share, read and be social. You may leave a link, pingback or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form on the website.  Rules & Guidelines.

Photo Credit:
Jez Timms

17 thoughts on “If You’re So Inclined”

  1. H.R.R. Gorman February 13, 2019 / 1:32 pm

    Me being a butthole:

    He smiled, too; said, “Not yet nine.
    Would you,” he paused, “Want to be mine
    For supper, now it’s time to dine?”
    “Maybe” she said, now in a bind,
    “As long as the meal’s on your dime.”

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  4. Charli Mills February 13, 2019 / 9:56 pm

    What a fun Be Mine response. Hope you are ready for Part II of that tale! 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  5. cricketmuse February 14, 2019 / 6:14 am

    Pline meaning slimy? She thought she was slimy? Or pline as in a sidewise rhyme of plain?

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  6. cricketmuse February 14, 2019 / 6:18 am

    Here is the postscript for your poem:
    The twosome proceeded to together dine,
    He was nervous—
    She was looking fine.
    She, alas, disliked his slurping, even more his constant burping.
    Excluding herself to say “My nose I must powder”
    Left the uncouth Romeo alone with his chowder.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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