Let's see whether fourteen makes it to the page...it's supposed to be a sonnet, and it's still a work-in-progress.
So you don't have to hold your breath, here's day fifteen's poem, the prompt being 'a silly parody.' I've chosen a folk song that my dad sang from time to time. It was supposedly written by a bum during the depression, and it's already a parody, so this is a parody of a parody. The 'original' "Hallelujah I'm a Bum" lyrics, found on-line, had thirteen verses, of which three were repeats.
Hallelujah I'm a Reject
Oh, why don't I write like MFA's do?
How the heck can I write when distracted by you??
chorus: Hallelujah! I'm a reject, Hallelujah amen,
Hallelujah! give us some feedback, and revive us again.
Oh, I love my computer, my computer loves me,
But word processing leaves me baffled and angry. cho:
Well, springtime is late, snow is still on the ground,
Away from the library, I'm sad and housebound. cho:
Oh why don't you spend all the money you earn?
If I ever earned any, my pockets would burn. cho:
Oh, I like my peer group, their comments are fine,
Some have their work published, but not me and mine. cho:
I'm not taken seriously, 'cause I'm just a hack,
With little in print yet, I seriously lack. cho:
I went to a reading to try th'open mike,
but before my turn came, the place declared a strike. cho:
I went to a workshop, I wrote something fine,
But after their feedback, alone I am cryin'. cho:
Oh why can't I just have a byline or two?
I'll keep trying, keep writing, and I will show you. cho:
Whenever I get all the money I should earn,
The editor will be broke and to work he must turn. cho:
I'd stay in my room, put a lock on the door;
but my family says they want to see me some more. cho:
I went to a editor, and I asked for advice;
The editor said,"Writer, just chill on the ice." cho:
When summer arrives, we'll all feel so fine,
We'll admit we are rejects, and study online. cho: