Writing poetry wasn't something Andráska Venora would ever claim skill in, leaving fancier word smithing to his cousins or other members of his house, but every once in awhile... when he had a little bit too much to drink... Short little notions popped into his head and he wrote them down in scratched handwriting to be deciphered upon waking up in the morning. Most were just repetitions and nonsensical, but every once in awhile what he produced was nothing less than sheer art.
...To him at least. And he was drunk...
He struggled through the poem, some lines just materializing in his hazy mind, others he fought with, burning through words, saying them over and over until he found one to rhyme and spin into his masterpiece. "Fame, game, same, name, blame, dame, came, flame, maime, lame, tame..." he was running out of thoughts, switching over to something illogical, "Pame, jame, vame, wame..." he couldn't think of anymore and repeated the process over, jotting down his choices.
The hardest parts were rhyming with Venora. He was embarrassed by the lack of creative options he had with that one, but the meat of his poem was his favorite. He thought there was a bit of suggestion to his siblings, which he liked.
...To him at least. And he was drunk...
He struggled through the poem, some lines just materializing in his hazy mind, others he fought with, burning through words, saying them over and over until he found one to rhyme and spin into his masterpiece. "Fame, game, same, name, blame, dame, came, flame, maime, lame, tame..." he was running out of thoughts, switching over to something illogical, "Pame, jame, vame, wame..." he couldn't think of anymore and repeated the process over, jotting down his choices.
The hardest parts were rhyming with Venora. He was embarrassed by the lack of creative options he had with that one, but the meat of his poem was his favorite. He thought there was a bit of suggestion to his siblings, which he liked.
There once was a girl named Eudora
Who had a weak eye for Venora
She wanted the fame
Along with the name
But her face was less than a whore’a.
The first lord was tall and exact
Always lacking emotional tact
He did what he pleased
And never did ease
Something inside him was cracked.
The next one in line was a lass,
Not a lord, but a lady with class
She was just fine,
Her beauty did shine,
But on ‘Dora she had to just pass.
The last lord she met was quite numb
Always drinking and spilling his rum
His jawline was square
And his face was quite fair
But he was only suited for some.
So that is the tale of Eudora
She wanted to love a Venora
She looked for a man
She had a big plan
But she never earned anymor'a
Who had a weak eye for Venora
She wanted the fame
Along with the name
But her face was less than a whore’a.
The first lord was tall and exact
Always lacking emotional tact
He did what he pleased
And never did ease
Something inside him was cracked.
The next one in line was a lass,
Not a lord, but a lady with class
She was just fine,
Her beauty did shine,
But on ‘Dora she had to just pass.
The last lord she met was quite numb
Always drinking and spilling his rum
His jawline was square
And his face was quite fair
But he was only suited for some.
So that is the tale of Eudora
She wanted to love a Venora
She looked for a man
She had a big plan
But she never earned anymor'a