And Dream of Sheep
(This actually, or at least oneirically, happened the other week. No sheep were harmed in the production of these Zs. May contain traces of poetic licence.)
And Dream of Sheep
I swam to surface, from the deep
And dodgy currents of a dream
Which I fell into, counting sheep
To rustle later by the gleam
Of moonlight on the haunted moor...
(The honest count was such a bore!)
...I dreamed my mafiosi kin
Had come to sponge a sandwich lunch.
They plotted sheep-related sin
While we spread peanut butter crunch
And whetted knives to carve the beef,
AND NOT A PATRONIZING THIEF
Who kept distracting me from what
I absolutely had to do -
To write a fairy-story, that
Would necessarily come true,
And overthrow the Government,
And crown a King who wasn't bent.
I wrote it up between the beers
And sandwiches. The sequel came,
And so I joined the mutineers
Who rose in the Republic's name!
I would have left it there and then,
But I'd already sold Book Ten...
...To daybreak's edge across the moor
I ran from fifty feral lords
Who wished to dunk me in my gore -
MY CLOCK CUT IN BEFORE THEIR SWORDS!
Since this has come of counting sheep,
I'll try a nightcap, next, for sleep!
This entry originally posted on Dreamwidth at http://caper-est.dreamwidth.org/100952.html - comments preferred there, if you have a foot in both camps.
I swam to surface, from the deep
And dodgy currents of a dream
Which I fell into, counting sheep
To rustle later by the gleam
Of moonlight on the haunted moor...
(The honest count was such a bore!)
...I dreamed my mafiosi kin
Had come to sponge a sandwich lunch.
They plotted sheep-related sin
While we spread peanut butter crunch
And whetted knives to carve the beef,
AND NOT A PATRONIZING THIEF
Who kept distracting me from what
I absolutely had to do -
To write a fairy-story, that
Would necessarily come true,
And overthrow the Government,
And crown a King who wasn't bent.
I wrote it up between the beers
And sandwiches. The sequel came,
And so I joined the mutineers
Who rose in the Republic's name!
I would have left it there and then,
But I'd already sold Book Ten...
...To daybreak's edge across the moor
I ran from fifty feral lords
Who wished to dunk me in my gore -
MY CLOCK CUT IN BEFORE THEIR SWORDS!
Since this has come of counting sheep,
I'll try a nightcap, next, for sleep!
This entry originally posted on Dreamwidth at http://caper-est.dreamwidth.org/100952.html - comments preferred there, if you have a foot in both camps.