The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Nov. 23/19

Shelly Krupa

It’s Saturday and yesterday LindaGHill gave us our Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday or #SoCs if you prefer. Our Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “flyer/ad.” Look at the latest ad you got in the mail (if it’s a store flyer, choose the product right in the middle of the page) or choose the next online ad you find, and theme your post on whatever the product is. Do not name the brand if you hate it, unless you add that it’s an opinion/review of the product in question. You don’t want to chance getting sued.

John Lewis and Waitrose

Why do I love this advert so much
Is it the little redhead that adds the magic touch.
Or is it excitable Edgar that reals me in
With cute flaming nostrils and scaly dragon skin.
It’s not because I worked for them in an earlier life
Waitrose to precise where customers caused me strife.
Or the beautiful perfect Christmas cheer that it portrays
My dreams of all that happiness has long been blown away.
Is it the food and decorations concealed within the story
All the company’s Christmas fair displayed in all its glory.
Is the plaintiff song, sung in a hopeful tone
The guys voice, or the way it’s sung that gets me heart and bone.
Or is the two pregnant pauses
Before he bursts into song again wining my applauses.
I don’t now what it is that makes love it so
But like every year as always their advert is a winner.

This is a Disclaimer, I have nothing to do with John Lewis and Waitrose and partners. I just love the advert.

This is part of LindaGHill’s #SoCs.

Death Writes Life’s Poetry

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The room would appear to be empty and dark

But what is that, a scratching , scratching,  hark!

Slowly your eyes grow accustomed  to the lack of light

There in the corner is an old guy working,  a curious sight .

Who is this, who can it be ? It is Death ( in his civies ) writing  Life’s Poetry.

I almost feel sorry for the Reaper and I feel you should agree.

He is  exhausted by Life’s demands and quirks

He has to go out collecting the dead  but what irks

Is he has Life’s poems to write, so his times not free

Can you hear that shusshing sound, lets see what can that be …..

It’s  billions of egg timers  set out on shelves .

The sands of time running out for you and me.

I almost feel sorry for Reaper and you should agree.

He  is exhausted by life’s demands and quirks

He is always busy now writing poetry and collecting the  dead

And there’s  more’  for he now has an apprentice to teach and keep fed.

Don’ t you feel a pang of sympathy?

He holds the number’s of you and me.

There is never a moment when he can be free, not even time for hot cup of coffee.

Well he is very busy right now as we can see

And I think there is somewhere , anywhere  else that we should be.

I almost feel sorry for Reaper and I feel you should agree.

He exhausted my life’s demands and quirks

He has to go out collecting  the Dead  

He has to write  Life’s poetry.

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