Written by: Hubby
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December 8th, 2008
The First Line Contest is at it’s best,
A chance to earn an editor’s request,
Emotions so high they must repress,
For soon they will all certainly obsess.
For while there is excitement abound,
Too many begin to bark like the hound,
Chasing their tails, round and round,
Answers in the directions, so easily found.
The clock keeps ticking and the hour near,
And these novices begin to fret and fear,
Hoping their words will soon endear,
Though none are close to being Shakespeare.
Yelling at family and friends at hand,
No time to cook dinner they command,
Horizon’s in writing they try to expand,
A destination in publisher’s dreamland.
Oh the torture that soon will consume,
The hours between the bright and the gloom,
Those who will fall to the dark of the tomb,
And those who’s writing continues to bloom.
Many will cry and surely protest,
That their submission was the best,
But only the few will continue the quest,
To try and win the First Line Contest!
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