Reply
Fri 2 Jul, 2004 07:16 am
Here's an idea, maybe it's been done before, I don't know. What about a poem that is written one verse at a time by means of people's posts?
Maybe it'll turn out a splendiferous masterpiece (more likely it'll turn out very strange indeed with verses that don't match). Try to keep the thread clear and continuous if you can and be creative!
I'll start:
At the start of each book,
Every fable or tale,
One must first have a hero
In who's wake we might trail
(Good idea, Fortune! I thought for a minute that you were talking about 'Poetic consequences,' which involves taking other poet's words and rhyming them, but your idea has not been done, I don't think.
I'll think about this one, to make it somewhat continuous, and I'll be back in a bit...)
Unless it's a book on
The science of botany,
In which plants are described with
A tone of monotony.
(sorry, bit rough around the edges =/)
So a hero we need,
With a Name of Some Weight
It can't be Keith, Alan -
Sir Oak would be great.
Sir Oak was a lord,
A man of great means,
A castle he had
with a tower that leans
He was seven and twenty,
A good-looking lad,
With dark curly hair, blue eyes
Just like his dad.
Sir Oak (it would seem)
Had a life blessed and fair
A future unsullied
By life's ordin'ry care
(No apologies agrote, I like your sense of humour!)
He had lands, he had looks
But in spite of this all
Something's not right
At Oakhampton Hall.
(Time for the part
Of the narrative where
The tale of our hero
Gets tragic. Beware!)
There's a je ne sais quoi
In the gardener's hut
You couldn't say what, but
It knots up your gut.
And a secret that's hidden
Out the back and behind
The graveyard that's creeping
And in there you'll find...
A memory of ancestral
Promises kept,
A secret Oak's gardener
For long years has wept
But this morning our hero
Has gone to the town,
With his smile turning up
And his socks hanging down.
This journey begun
So blythe and so free,
But no more would Sir Oak
His loved home ever see
He sat on his palfrey -
A strawberry roan -
And talked to his tailor
On his mobile phone.
But having no reception
His frustration grew
And into a pub
He entered into
The pub was empty,
The pub was dark -
A case containing
A hammerhead shark.
"In this shady dive
My journey I'll break,"
Said Sir Oak, "I've a thirst
And enquiries to make,"
He ordered a pint of
The bitterest ale
And a drink for his horse
In a silver pail.
But back at the castle
A danger was growing,
From the crypt of Oak's forebears
Evil smoke was abillowing
Stumble It!
Tweet This
Bookmark on Delicious
Share on Facebook
Share on MySpace