My Little Brother Applies as a Writer for the Blog

Ahh, summer. Endless days of heat, mosquitos, and boredom. This boredom that comes with summer can inspire otherwise normal people to do crazy, radical things.

Scorpion Weaver, my little brother, has applied for a job at TheWebWeavers. Otherwise known as this blog. I don’t think he completely understands what a resume is supposed to do…

Scorpian's resume

If you can’t read his handwriting, which I assume is most of the human population, I’ll transcribe it here.

Cons for hiring Scorpion Weaver

  • Will blame everything on Arachnid Weaver
  • bad at writing
  • Cannot spell properly
  • smells funny
  • will spin if given the opportunity
  • YUM!!!
  • will eat all of you cookies, WHERE ARE You HIDING THEM, I will find them
  • may lose all of your readers
  • will pelt you with questions
  • will ask you for help (make you write the posts for him)
  • his handwriting is very bad.

Pros for hiring Scorpion Weaver

  • none

He also wrote a poem…

the bird poem.jpg

A page for...long footed birds!

A very bad poem by Scorpion

 

Birds, they are the living

plane of the sky. Birds they

fly, birds they die. Birds cannot

see glass, oh what a sad

sight. Birds they can be

gross. Birds, they eat worms,

eww! Oh Birds I am sad

to see you go, birds

I wish you could stay

longer, but I must hibernate.

Goodbye birds.


Well, what do you think readers? Should we hire Scorpion?


A Note: I’m currently in Bangladesh for a three-week trip and I won’t be back until July 15, 2018, so I won’t be able to reply to your lovely comments until I get back.

You Float Away

Sophia Ismaa

They smile, they love
Oh, stars above
They really do love
Forever forlorn
You heart is torn

In a room full of strangers
A fresh chapter, you hope
Words mumbling and stumbling
One mistake and you’re crumbling

An alleyway, a home
Since the exit from the womb
Safe is a word we no longer know
Trust is a memory of long ago

A child sits by herself
Walls created to shield
But the words are still slinging
While the teacher pretends
That they hear nothing

Your beloved floats away
To a better world
And your world
Becomes a bitter blur
You wish all the while
That you could have gone too
Than stay in a land where comfort is few

He loves you not
Though he promised he did
He loved your glory in the sun
Your joy in the rainbow
But your rain was too much
A hailstorm of…

View original post 54 more words

A New Book!

Since I just came back from a trip in Madrid, Italy, I’m very, very tired, but today, I’ll share with you our newest book which just came out on Amazon! It has sold one copy so far and I’m very proud of the publication.

It’s called “Wholesome Poetry” and it’s very different from today’s contemporary mindset towards the genre. Our book may be fattening for some of you, hard to swallow, but take it with an open mind. I hope it flips your view of poetry in the future, as it breaks all the established conventions of our current day rhyme and riddle.

Also, it covers a topic that is very controversial, which is the item of food. Food is rarely written about and these “wholesome” foods contain some secret that is very vicious:  carbs.

By writing about bread, wheat, and other grainy products, we hope to open the eyes of the people who throw away the crust. If this book is successful, we will create a sequel about how hotdogs and chicken nuggets are conjured.

Now for a little sneak peek:

Oh, u were so thick, oatmeal

Looking back at ur surface, my eyes a soft teal

But, oh y, may I ask were u not gluten free?

Y u not the perfect food for me?

If you enjoyed that, please check out the link: https://www.amazon.com/s/bread/poetry

Sleepy Spinette Spyder

I’m sleepy.

I would say, I’m in that moment where my eyes are crusty and I’m about to close them.

In that moment…

where everything is a pig.

And everything is bacon.

It’s 11:45, no scratch that, 11:46 and the pigs bounce on my magic carpet.

But the magic carpet is bacon, and the pigs are complex verses of trigonometry.

Everything has a separate line.

But that is not true, since everything is bacon.

Does that mean I’m bacon?

When were these rules established?

Oh yeah, right the 5th line.

Am I one to make rules? Are those rules also bacon?

Are the words I’m writing bacon? Are the questions I’m asking just bacon?

I enjoy trigonometry. Bacon triangulates.

Square. Circle.

Red Circle. Blue Square. Almighty triangle.

I think I have an idea for this post.

Red Circle is the most popular circle in her class.

Blue Square is at the end of the social ladder.

Red Circle is red and that is why everyone loves her.

Blue Square is square and that is why everyone hates him.

But Red Circle likes 90 degree angles.

Whoops.

I dropped my bedtime cereal.

My computer is glitching due to milk spillage.

Yet I am able to post this.

triangle.