Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

The Edge of the World

Won’t you come now with me, and we’ll sail ‘cross the sea,
Till we reach the far edge of the world.

When we get to the place where we fall into space,
We’ll go off with our sails full unfurled.

O’er that waterfall steep, we’ll launch into the deep
Of the universe where we are hurled,

And we’ll float in that sea full of stars, you and me,
As the galaxies ‘round us are twirled.

Flat Is Best

On a round world a life must be full of despair.
One’s horizons are ever unreachable there.

You could travel the length of the earth, but what then?
You would only be back where you started again.

With the world all so curvy how could one define
What’s the shortest way where? Here it’s just a straight line.

What a life, run in circles around a big sphere,
You could go miles away and still find yourself here.

And you’d never be able to tell where you are;
You go east and you’re west, if you venture too far.

All the reasoning there must be circular too.
How could anyone ever discover what’s true?

On a round world I’m sure that you likely would find
The inhabitants all have gone out of their minds.

Would there be any hope to stay mentally sound
When you spend your whole life on a merry-go-round?

And although it feels safer when taking a trip
If you journey a world that’s devoid of a lip,

Could one really prefer a security hedge
To the thrill of adventuring right to the edge?

Sure, a flat earth has borders one best does not cross,
But to have no perimeters-- far greater loss!

Though there may be some problems not found on a ball,
Who could doubt that a flat world is best after all?

Flat Earth Is the Hub

Flat earth is the hub.
Copernicus was a nut
And a heretic.

It’s a Conspiracy!

Woo
Hoo!
Et tu?
Is it true,
What I hear of you?
You believe in this round earth view?
There’s a fool born every minute. Are you one too?
Don’t you realize this is part of a conspiracy to gain control of your mind?
Fibonacci poems to me are something new, so I’m not sure if all the lines
are supposed to rhyme, but I ran out of sounds that go oooh.
So please bear with me, as I’m doing the best I can do, and am not sure
if meter is the only concern, as in haiku, and how long do these
things go on, or is there an agreed upon limit at which one should
be through?
It would seem that a poem written in a Fibonacci sequence could go on
forever, so there must be some practical limit, or one would soon
run out of paper and time, but those of us who live on a flat
world aren’t used to things that go on and on, and I’ve noticed
that the ones I’ve read stop at a line of eight syllables, so I’m
not sure just what to do.*

*To be continued later, maybe, (but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you).
First I have to find out the rules of this game. If the eight syllable thing turns
out to be correct, please go back to the word “view” found on line six,
and stop reading there.

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