Monday, October 31, 2011

Where's The Inspector?

We're asked to base our writing on the word 'gadget'

(An Acrostic)

Gadgets of every conceivable kind,
Always presented to dazzle the mind.
Designed to be accurate, colourful, neat,
Greatly delighting the man in the street.
Ever more growing in intricacy
They completely befuddle old ladies like me!
Sometimes I feel like a gadget myself
But one that's left gathering dust on the shelf.


I wandered lonely, as a cloud,
A puff-ball in the sky,
Feeling left-out by the crowd,
Dispirited and shy.
The sky around was vacant blue,
No other soul was near,
I thought 'To thine own self be true',
But I didn't feel sincere.
I blew this way and then blew that
But the people on the ground
Didn't feel I was worth looking at;
So I just blew around.
Finally, I was overcome
By the pathos of my fate.
A lonely life without a chum
I could not contemplate.
And so I cried enormous tears
I simply couldn't stop!
Even I, with my whispy ears,
Could hear them go plop, plop!
A human being down below,
Felt a tear fall on his head,
But all I heard was a gruff  'Oh no!
It's raining again!' he said!
Reality dawned! I couldn't win!
I was incapacitated!
I felt myself growing weak and thin.....
Then I just evaporated.