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If you have ever played Scrabble online...
On a workday dull and dreary as I drudged on, bored and bleary,
Pondering many a folder full of heavy bureaucratic lore,
Then it blew into the windsocks of my mortal brain (my inbox),
That my will upon the gridlocks of the web I should outpour.
FWD: come pl@ scr@BL IMplorr!!!!
And so I followed then the linking with its URL betwinking,
With my mouse all click and clinking did read on a little more:
"Good foe, accept this gaming, for my day is all the saming,
"And my boss will not be blaming, for work ne'er comes through my door.
"Come play Scrabble, I implore."
I looked o'er my files and folders, thinking how a candle smolders,
When snuffed out by falling boulders of thick stupid, senseless lore.
So I set aside my filing, put my cursor to the tiling,
With its letters all beguiling, and spelled out the word "ADORE."
'Twas my first move, a double score.
Dealt we both into the battle, with our keyboards rock and rattle,
While good tiles, like orn'ry cattle, did avoid me more and more.
Though I fought for better scoring, thought "At last, this isn't boring!"
With delighted moves galoring, counted up our Scrabble score.
And we were tied, with neither more.
"One more thing," my foe said, gently, "although letters we have plenty,"
"I think that I will bent me to just one excursion more."
I watched then all the paging with connection slowly staging,
And finally refresh engaging saw added "NEVERM E" to my "OR."
All seven letters joined to "OR."
Gazed I long upon each letter, blinking hard to see the better,
As they bound my heart with fetter, knocked my hoping to the floor.
"It is a fifty-point undoing!" cried I then, my mind ungluing,
Like a horse resisting shoeing, kicked my feet upon the floor.
And still I read on, "NEVERMORE."
Now our games have all the seeming of a website that is streaming,
And the swirling loader gleaming, kicks my boredom to the floor.
And my brain from off that game board,
Shall be lifted when I score.
Come play Scrabble, I implore.
This poem is a parody of Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven." Scrabble is a popular board game invented by Alfred Moshur Butts in 1938. The Scrabble copyright is currently owned by Hasbro.
Want to use this poem to remind someone that it's their turn? That's fine with me so long as you add (poem copyright DRF 2008) at the bottom. Send questions (and suggestions for a less lame title) to email@example.com.