Slightly Homesick

I watched my soul as she flew away
Half-way 'round the world today.
She had enough of life's frustrations,
Analysis and complications.

Now she's far across the ocean,
Rolling waves and tides away.
My sweetest five, with my devotion,
Unlike all others, eternally.

I'm... feeling... slightly... homesick... but... just... slightly.

Driving Issues Limericks

And, as before, limericks to make a sickeningly frustrating situation a little lighter and more manageable.

In Moers is a driving instructor,
A delinquent quite unlike another.
He'll kill with his words
And run over birds*
And project all his misery on others.

Along came a young Austin girl
Whose goal was avoiding a war.**
With each hour of driving,
The tension was rising...
Until she could stand it no more.

When he noticed his horrid mistake,
The tables had turned; 'twas too late.
This mad Austinite
Will now put up a fight.
In her once-gentle hands rests his fate.


*drumroll*


To be continued...


*pidgeons, specifically
**a driving war with her instructor, that is.

My Emita, Part II

There was once a sweet las named Emita
Who sent her sister a postcard each week-a.
She was freakishly tall...
But then, aren't we all?
How dearly I love my lil' chica.

Limericks...

... cause writing in rhyme and making jokes out of semi-serious issues somehow makes things less stressful.

There was a young man from the Ruhr
Who was chatty and quirky galore.
At first it was fun,
'Til the stalking begun...
So girls tore for the nearby-est door.

There was a young gal from Neukirchen
Who appeared gentle, sweet, and quite classy,
Until pushed and annoyed
By a strange local boy...
Her behaviour's become rather nasty.

This gal has a dear friend in Texas
Who agrees all boys do is upset us.
So they vented and laugh-ed,
As a clear plan was draft-ed...
Escaping to Italy's a definite must.

Am Not.

Creatures can't be creature-comforts;
A Fury oughtn't be idolized.
The only angels are in Heaven;
An imbecile is all but wise.

Convalescents are not healers-
They belong not on a pedestal.
Gaping, barren voids are common,
But made not by Another whole.

This tiny halo sits quite crooked;
Faults infest and are innate.
Adjustment is a daily feat-
Be wary whom you emulate.

Lucida Sans

After quite a bit of searching, discussing and debating, we finally decided on a font for the church letter-head and banner: Lucida Sans. 'Twas a glorious occasion.


I will get up now and surf about the internet,
through its search engines and annoying pop-up ads.
I will search for the font my heart loves...

Scarcely had I passed when I found Lucida Sans, the one my heart loves.
I downloaded her and would not let her go to my Recycle Bin...
How beautiful you are, my darling Lucida Sans! Oh, how beautiful!

My Lucida Sans in the clefts of cyberspace,
in the hiding places in a myriad of Schrott-font-sites,
let me hear your voice, show me your letters,
for your letters are sweet, sans serif, and slightly italicized....

My font is mine and I am hers; she browses among Powerpoint documents.
Until the day breaks and the shadows flee,
turn, my Lucida Sans, and be like a winzip file,
or like a .ttf file on my rugged (and clogged up) harddrive.

My Lucida Sans is radiant and ruddy,
oustanding among ten thousand fonts.

All beautiful you are, my darling Lucida Sans,
far beyond Petite Medium, Arial and Times New Roman.
There is no type flaw in you.

:)


(Inspired by various bits and pieces of Song of Solomon, especially 3:2-4, 4:1-7, 2:14-17, 5:10.)