Monday, 2 August 2010

This Poem Is Brought to You By the Letter S

Here is a really, really bad poem. Every word begins with S, because that's what Plinky told me to do.

Seven stoic Samurai,
Saddled somewhat stiffly,
Sit staring southward.

South of the Samurai,
Stark strongholds
Solemnly stand.

Spurred suddenly,
Samurai storm south,
Slender swords shining.

Striking strong,
Screams, skirmishes,
Sickening silence.

Samurai standing still.
Stronghold subdued.
Sun slowly setting.

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