You'd think mowing the lawn would inspire you to write about mowing the lawn, right? Nope. Not for me. Somehow mowing the lawn or walking to school stimulates my brain, I guess, because right after doing either one I have ideas for new stories or poems. I made up a joke the last time I walked to school. You wanna hear it? Of course you do.
What do you call a mob of brooms?
The mop-fia.
You're supposed to laugh now, just so you know.
Anyways, I was mowing the lawn on Saturday, contemplating stuff as always, when the lines for a poem came to mind. I'd already tried writing something with the same idea in mind, but it wasn't turning out quite right the way I was taking it. The title came about partly because of the poem's concept, and also because I was joking around with my sister and calling her names (we do that a lot, just to see who can come up with the best name). The first word out of my mouth was "Dummy." Isn't that a funny word? I had to use it somewhere.
Before I give you the poem, here's a question I'd like to know: What inspires you, and where (as in physical places) do you most often get inspiration?
Dummy
Though I swear it's not me talking.
My ventriloquist moves my limbs so weak,
But it's not me who's walking.
My ventriloquist makes my eyes to weep,
Though I swear it's not me crying.
My ventriloquist lays me down to sleep,
And now it's me who's dying.
