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Time for a little recycling, so, all right, strawberries... let's get ready to jam.
Since I live in fear of the thought of Mondays on LiveJournal not being iambic, I thought that it might be time to blow the dust off and instigate the second annual Poetic Entry Contest*. If you're on my friends list, you've already cleared the qualification round. Go, you!
If you want to participate, here's the deal, pickle:
1) You say, "I'm in!" or, "Hit me, dealer!" or some other affirmative.
2) I hunt through your archives because I haven't yet figured out a way to rifle through your underwear drawer. I find a brief [get it? n'yuk!] entry of yours and charge you with rewriting or reconfiguring or paring it down or summing it up until it rhymes, LeAnn.
3) You post the rewrite on your journal. Then everyone-- most importantly, myself-- has something wacky to read tomorrow or Wednesday or whenever. Simple! Merriment!
If the idea doesn't suit, don't worry. I won't be yanking anyone off my friends list who doesn't want to play. But if you do, then sign up below, pluck a feather from your nearest pheasant, dip it in your trusty inkwell and... pebbles? Get ready to rock.
* No prize awarded, so it's not really a contest... unless hearing me shut up and stop calling you a berry, a dill pickle, a pebble or LeAnn Rimes is considered a prize.
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