Friday, October 31, 2008

Twas the day before NaNo

Day 64 of 365 in the “Marathon of the Dope” . . .

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I just had to write a poem about the day before NaNoWriMo 2008.

Hope you like it!

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-Twas the day before NaNo-


Twas the day before Nano, when all through the house

No creature was writing yet, not even my spouse,

The notpads were stacked by my work desk with care,

In hopes that Inspiration soon would be there,

The pens and pencils were nestled all snug in their jar,

While bowls of chocolate coffee beans were placed at the bar,

And mamma with her laptop, and I with my papers,

Had just settled down to work out our plot capers,

When out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the seat to see what was the matter.

Away to the kitchen I flew with dread fright,

Tore open the shutters and snapped on the light.

The toaster on the edge of the new marble top,

Gave the reflection of something that made my heart stop,

When, what from my horrified mouth should never be spoken,

But an explosive expletive upon seeing my coffee maker, Broken!

With a little loose wire, all sparking and quick,

I thought in that moment I just might be sick,

More rapid than eagles the sparks flew and hissed,

And whistled, and popped, and were generally getting me pissed,

By Homer, by Tolkein, by Shatner, by Pinter, by Rankin!

Damn Taylor! Damn Clarke! Damn Shakespeare and Ankin!

To top off the terror! A part of the wall!

Now started to smoke and smolder! Dash away! Dash it all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

I made for the sink and the water within, I had to try,

So up beside the sparking coffee machine I flew,

With my robe held before me, covering my eyes too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard something quite dire,

The increased snapping and crackling of that loose tiny wire,

As I drew my robe away and was turning around,

Up the sink drain a small gnome came with a bound.

He was dressed all in postits, from his head to his shoes,

His little brass hat was all scribbled with twos,

A bundle of tools he had flung on his back,

And he examined my coffee machine while opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks like erasers, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn down like a pout,

And his clean shaven face was as white as whiteout;

The handle of a screwdriver he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke from the wall encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a thin face and a tight washboard tummy,

That rippled, when he laughed like a yellow Egyptian mummy.

He was thin and in shape, a right grumpy small elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his tool,

Soon gave me to know this repair gnome was no fool,

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And in a few moments, all fixed, my coffee machine began to work,

And stuffing his tools away quick, from watching him my neck feeling strain,

He gave me a nod, and with a pop, disappeared down the drain,

Then, startled by a loud repeated beeping whistle,

I snapped awake and jumped from my writing chair like I'd sat on a thistle.

My wife only looked up form her laptop with a shake of her head,

"If you're that tired dear," she said, "why not go nap in the bed."

I had fallen asleep while plotting and knew she was right,

Happy NaNo to all, and to all a good write!

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