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When Lyric Met Limerick is free for only one more day on Amazon! Grab it here and read all about Declan Decker’s pre-fame days, when he was just a moody dreamer looking for trouble.
“Why do you write songs?”
“Because I have to. Why do you write limericks?”
“Because I can.”
In the short story When Lyric Met Limerick, author Dawn V. Cahill combines comedy and danger with a hint of faith, set in the early 1980s. Howard McCreary, better known (or not so much better known) as Declan Decker, is a songwriter aspiring for fame who doesn’t mind using underhanded methods to get what he wants. As soon as he meets Luna Rickles, a poetess who writes personalized limericks for her customers at an open market booth, Howard is sure that he wants her. However, an unfortunate run-in at the market may foil the next step of Howard’s plan to pursue the woman who’s swiftly captivated him.
His scheming and self-seeking ways notwithstanding, Howard turns out to be a fairly charming character, if for nothing else, for the comical picture he makes when he’s unable to resist popping up with an air guitar and ever being the performer regardless of his surroundings. The author also gives a glimpse of Howard’s vulnerable side through his reflections about his past, his grandmother, and God. Luna adds more than a pretty face to the story with her perception, her talent, and a rather vulnerable situation that she’s in herself.
Poems, Headaches, and Mjolnir
Now this is poetry…
This is one of my most favoritest poems ever. If you can’t tell, I prefer poetry that speaks about something solid. Especially funny poetry.
I’ve Got An Incredible Headache
by Jack Prelutsky
I’ve got an incredible headache,
my temples are throbbing with pain,
it feels like a freight train with two locomotives
is chugging about in my brain.
I’m sure I can’t stand it much longer,
my skull’s being squeezed in a vise,
as regiments march to the blaring of trumpets,
and thousands of tap-dancing mice.
My head’s filled with horrible noises,
there’s a man mashing melons inside,
someone keeps drumming on bongos and plumbing,
as porpoises thrash in the tide.
An elephant herd is stampeding,
a volcano is blowing its top,
and if I keep hitting my head with this hammer,
I doubt that my headache will stop.
So often in life we do this. Not literally. But a…
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