“I need a cure” thus speak meek
“A cure to end my rhyming streak.”
The cure is simple, oh my sweet lad’ums.
Take a photograph of Cecil Adams.
I must confess - I did obsess when I first saw this headline.
But a certain cure (around here for sure) has always been - A deadline.
In my demise, to my surprise, I thought this thread was rotting.
I’m touched the board has heard my plea ~ and linked it on threadspotting.
Indeed I try what you reply, so far I’ve had no luck.
As for a Cecil photo-shoot, he responded, “No -You suck!”
Through everything, yet still I cling to hopes of lost obsession,
Past denial, anger, bargaining ~ and straight to deep depression.
My lady fled with all my bread. My pets have run away.
I can’t halt this verse assault, and my mind is in decay.
But thank you all, I can’t recall ~ when last I felt so loved.
Perhaps there is some dark recess this board can have me shoved.
Where folks and staff, can point and laugh and poke fun in rhymes verbose.
“Look there’s meek, the rhyming freak ~ now kids don’t get too close.”
.
Meek, a suggestion to cure your lack of prose
Spray yourself with water from a large hose
For a complete restoration of your prose of old
The water that is released must be amazingly cold
This will cause a shock so vicious
Your spirit will cease to be with us
Actually, you will probably be left comatose
But at least we will not suffer from your lack of prose
Oh, please don’t be so alarmed
Of course, I really don’t want you to be harmed
But the only way to regain the prose you seek
A lightning bolt must strike you again, meek
Please don’t be too critical of my verse
The time taken to rhyme “prose” and “hose” was terse
For the rest of the poem, however
I typed for an hour: it seemed like forever
limerick:
There once was a Doper named meek
Who lost all prose for more than a week
Lightning had struck
We are all in luck
Now in this thread, it this laughter we seek
You need to find some peace of mind, I hope this will suffice
Accept your fate and rhyme out loud, the cure is in your vice.
Use it wisely, use it well – see it for what it’s worth,
Sell books of prose, as profit grows – Meek shall inherit earth.
[rhyme off]
There ya go, meek. 
That worked. Thanks Coldfire.
Now why didn’t I try that? Duh @ me!
Thanks everybody!
:smack:
Now THAT’S funny!
I think we must put end to this infernal rhyming war
Before our brains are reduced to a verbose pile of gore
For overdose of rhyming can become a sad demise
And 'fore we come to cure what ails, you could be gath’ring flies
So let’s rehash the story quick and give meek confirmation
Before he has destroyed himself with vile versed quotation
One night, while sitting quite, scowering SDMB lore
A bolt of lighting, un-PC, threw meek upon his floor
The neighborhood seemed to ignore the shrill, bloodcurdling screams
poor meek, alas!, the drool ran down betwixt his lips in streams
And now a curse afflicts meek that’s of biblical proportions
His messaging is now possessed of rhymed/metered contortions
The only cure that’s known my friend, is torture at its best
For after you’ve completed it, you’ll wish that you’d been pressed
Sit in a corner, smoke a clove, and as you do proceed
To read unrhymed versed college poems until your eyes could bleed