Saturday, February 5, 2011
As Saturday Centus rolls around again, I am rushing out the door early to spend the day with a good friend. In the interest of haste, and because I can't stand the thought of not playing at all, I am using my 100 words to write a poem. As always, the prompt (by Ames) is in red.
Grace knew her elegance would rule the day.
She vanquished pageants like a beast of prey.
Her beauty was the sort that made men sigh
and women grimace, with unfriendly eye.
Of course, her confidence was not conceit,
for judges fell and worshipped at her feet.
At least, they’d always done so in the past.
But now, her chin had sprung a zit so vast…
so wide and deep, she feared she could not chin it...
and it was growing bigger by the minute.
Resourceful to the end, she inked it dark.
Et voila! She embraced her beauty mark.