A criminally bad poem. (REVISED)
Two ONE week s today and I’m heading down
To bustling ThatThereLondon town.
Its streets will gleam, scrubbed free from grime,
In celebration of the first @CapitalCrime
A weekend of murder, death and sin,
It’s plotted to be A. . . MAZ. . .ZING.
Stellar authors with their fictional veeps,
Crime addicted readerly peeps,
Newbies and authors on the rise
Each crafting how their victim dies.
With guns? Or knives? In murderous rages?
Foul deeds committed on fresh pages.
Our joy in crime, our delight of fears,
Discussed in bars over ice cold beers.
Or Merlot? Gin? Another shot?
#NewVoices hoping that we’ve got
A spark of prose, a promising draft
From years of plotting at our craft.
Characters birthed. And killed. Given names.
Most survive, others now in flames.
There’s Lister – my hero – he answers the calls
And, after years, returns to Willow Falls.
He’s a nice chap. Who cares that he’s a killer
stalking the pages of my thriller.
Meet Tyrell and Lainey and the pin-up Rita
And seventeen-year old refugee Bettina.
It’s my fervent wish, my deepest yearning
That someone, somewhere enjoys “The Kerning”.
So, fourteen days we wait until the curtain rises
When David and Adam reveal the surprises
They’ve planned and plotted such a long time
And they open the doors for @CapitalCrime.
Thanks in advance to the boys and their crew
Now, where do I sign up for 2020 too?