The Moving Muddle: a Sonnet by Anonymous
The Moving Muddle:
a Sonnet
by Anonymous
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The Moving Muddle:
a Sonnet
by Anonymous
We had to meet to talk about the move,
And settle all the problems that remain:
Our never-ending questions only prove
The whole damn thing will be a real pain.
The man coordinating the event
Came in and answered every query twice,
But still some didn't know what he had meant,
And all gave him unusable advice.
When he had left, the conversation flew
More fast and furious than it had been:
The babble bubbled up, the blowhards blew,
And each one had an oar that he put in.
This moving muddle may not merely be
A mess: it could be a catastrophe!
Originally published in SUL News Notes, February 12, 1993.
c 1993, 1995 Fleabonnet Press for the author.
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c 1995 Fleabonnet Press. This page was established Dec. 28, 1995, and
last updated Dec. 28, 1995.