My shoulders are sore and my eyeballs are crossing
Words dance on the page, with their letters embossing
Themselves on my vision; they’re making no sense now,
I can’t see the point of the past perfect tense now.
Apostrophes, colons and odd prepositions
All vie for attention and seek new positions
I’ve wrestled with adverbs and fought with conjunctions
While adjectives seek to determine their functions.
I’m reading back over the bits I just read,
I just want to finish this edit instead.
There’s no chance, I tell you;
My brain has gone dead.
I’ve had it tonight
And I’m going to bed.
[-_-]
That sounds horribly familiar. The Chicago Manual of Style is following me around. Going to bed is the only sane solution. 🙂
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I thought it might ring a bell with a few folk 🙂
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More like a gong! lol 🙂
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🙂
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Wonderful!
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🙂
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Fabulous!
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🙂
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Oy! Do I EVER know the feeling!!!
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🙂
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This what the last few months have been like for me, until I said ‘enough is enough’ and sent it off!
Now, I just have the doubts, did I do enough etc… don’t know what’s worse…
Jaye
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Hi Jaye… It doesn’t seem to matter how carefully you edit, there is always something that slips through it seems, and you usually spot it within five minutes of seeing the first full print copy…
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Reblogged this on Anita & Jaye Dawes.
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Love it– you’re a wonderful poet!
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A cross-eyed one last night, Ellen 🙂
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Reblogged this on theowlladyblog.
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