"Too Many Rhymes, Not Enough Brains" is a collection of whimsical verse, geared toward school-age children, but suitable for readers of all ages beyond. The bigger part of the collection (including the title poem) consists of poems, some as long as two pages, others as short as a haiku. By and large (except for much of the haiku), the poems rhyme, although not all with the same meter and rhyme scheme.
There is a second section for fables in verse. These are liberal translations of actual fables from ancient China. The words represent the poet’s art, but the plots and morals of each tale date back to antiquity.
At the end of the book is an extra treat, which, though not in verse, should provide even further amusement.
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About the Author
Thomas Cleveland Lane is a semi-retired writer of sense and nonsense. In the former category, he works part-time writing business letters for an accounting firm. That is what puts the “semi” in his semi-retired status. At the age of 70, he is and ought to be well beyond the 9 to 5 way of life. The other type or writing is what you see in these pages. Mr. Lane has written three plays and two serious novels, some of which are available and some of which are still in the hopper. He has also put together an anthology (that he wrote himself under a variety of pen-names, because that’s the kind of bogus character that he is) called Shaggy Dogs: A Collection of Not-So-Short Stories. No, these are not wonderful tales of man’s best friend, but rather a collection of shaggy-dog stories. If you don’t know what a shaggy-dog story is, ask your grandpa. Better yet, but the book. Anything I have published (except the book you are now reading) is somewhere on Amazon. Mr. Lane’s chief hobby is amateur and non-union theater. He has no grudge against Actor’s Equity, mind you. He just isn’t that good. Still, and he will be the first to tell you, he has his moments. When he has not managed to cajole some poor misbegotten director into casting him in something, he likes to enter piano bars and annoy the patrons with his singing. You may well wish to note that all he can offer you in this instance is the written word, without a peep to be heard. Count your blessings.