So … I’ve been writing a lot lately. I’ve started this thing where I’m writing a sentence a day and I’m having a great time with it. Somedays are torture, however, so it’s good to just limit myself to a sentence – other days it just flows out of me. I’ve chosen a topic that I know and is too personal for me to share on da tubes, right now (which means eventually I probably will). But I’ve been thinking back on the time that I most enjoyed myself playing with words – for a lot of reasons really – and thought about a poem (or I don’t know what to call it) I wrote for my youngest nephew and thought I’d share it here.

Zakabing-ting king

“Da da doo da da bing” so went the Kazing
“Gezundheit” said the Kabing when the Kazing started to sing.
“Da da doo da da bing” repeated the Kazing
“Why must you always sing with a ring?”
“Zapa do dee the ring can sing
When I become Zakabing-ting’s king
King I must be before I can sing
Magical words that will give me a wing”
Kabing puzzled over Kazing’s thing
That ruled the kingdom of Zakabing-ting
He wondered why there must be such  ringa-ting-ding
over such a ring zing that made a king sing

“Ping!” said the Kazing “And now I am Zakbing-ting’s king.
Zapa do dee, da da doo, da da bing” sang the king with the ring
“Bring the thing zing that will cling with the wing!”
Kabing brought the thing zing
And let it cling with the living wing fling
“Zapa do dee, da da doo, da da bing sing
Let the wing cling to the thing zing and the king sing with the ring ping!”
And so it was that Zakabing-ting’s king flew with the wing.

Goarr – writing’s fun!! Specially just playing around and making very little sense!