Yet another book of a hundred 8-line poems.
|If Only He Wouldn’t Shout
The king rages on and on,
shouting of beds and heads,
the colour red, some kind of spread,
a man named Fred and something dread,
a book he’s read, the life he’s led,
a childhood sled, trouble ahead,
he seems to hate poor Simple Simon,
no idea why he wants his shed.
Line count: 8
Rhymed (this is weird) abbbbbab
For Express It In Eight, 10.15.21
Prompt: “I said the head, you idiots! Bring me the cur’s head!”