{"sf1_id":1104905,"sf2_id":"n9224Jq1","title":"The Word in Ink \u0026 The Happy Ending","author":"charles_they","words":397,"posted_at":"2016-12-12T05:44:29.000Z","tags":["Fox","Hare","Limerick","Male","Poetry","Relationships","jackrabbit","sonnet"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1104905-the-word-in-ink-the-happy-ending","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/n9224Jq1","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/bb/e2/bbe2ee38-6b0c-44c3-8168-092c00811854","description":"A sonnet on submission nerves, and a five-part lurid limerick laden with filth.","content":"### Preamble\n\nThe hardest step for an artist (of any medium) to take is to put their work out into the world; yet you have to start somewhere. I imagine that many people get this feeling of impending doom before posting something they've made-- after, too, if they've managed to post it.\u0026nbsp;\n\n* * *\n\n### The Word in Ink\n\nWhen I do think on those who've put their word\n\nIn ink, for naught but their perusing by\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe ones who wish them love and fame, I'm stirred:\n\nI find it odd to dread those words that tie.\n\nRough are the frights and sleepless nights brought on\n\nBy perturbation; yet wherefore do we\n\nAscribe this wrath to them and grow withdrawn?\n\nThis them we fear, their praise fills us with glee.\n\nWhat has been put in ink will cease to change,\n\nAnd that which feels the grace of day will not\n\nReturn to night; those words that do derange\n\nUs so, must be that thing we've never sought.\n\nBlack ink once set affirms our place among\n\nOur loves; in truth, we'd rather go unsung.\n\n* * *\n\nAnd now that we've taken the first step (in sonnet form, of course), it seems much easier to go on and post something else: a five-part limerick of far sillier status.\n\n* * *\n\n### The Happy Ending\n\nThere was a jaded young Jack from Laval /\u0026nbsp;\n\nStuck with naught but his nib in NorCal /\u0026nbsp;\n\nHe fawned over a fox /\n\nAnd bare of all blocks /\n\nHe pursued his pedantic pen pal /\n\nAn adept in articulation /\n\nThe word was Tod's vulpine vocation /\u0026nbsp;\n\nDrawn in by his diction /\n\nAnd their fervent friction /\u0026nbsp;\n\nThey quibbled and questioned quotation /\n\nWith glib gadgets and gizmos galore /\n\nJack's writings were waggish, but wore /\n\nAnd for marring the mind /\u0026nbsp;\n\nWhile so brashly behind /\n\nThe fox gave him right roughly what for /\n\nFor his maiming and mauling, Jack moped /\u0026nbsp;\n\nAnd so glumly he grappled and groped /\n\nWith Tod's frequented tackle /\u0026nbsp;\n\nHis critiques and his cackle /\u0026nbsp;\n\nIn the end, 'twas with him Jack eloped /\n\nWhen their muzzles grew grizzled and grey /\n\nJack deduced with dwindling dismay /\n\nThat in trading blows /\n\nAmidst passionate throes /\n\nTheir writings came out as quite gay.\n\n* * *\n\n-Charles Michael Averin","series":{"name":"Old/Archive","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1104907-bitches-right-the-contact-contract.json"}}