And I wonder why I never see any other students turn in formal poetry in my creative writing classes.
Mind-wrestling with Poets (it's a community thread! Come on in!)
- Thread starter Stew21
- Start date
I admit, I was trying to come up with a limerick about William, just to see if I could lure him into the thread. But (a) very little rhymes with William (and he just isn't a Will), (b) very little rhymes with Haskins, and (c) even to the extent I could come up with some near rhymes, the content fell flat.
Like this, for example.
A peace-loving poet named William
met with Helen, the beauty of Ilium.
She offered him vice,
but war was the price,
and he preferred to remain a civilian.
That's just not the kind of thing that would tempt him into the thread, I'm afraid.
Like this, for example.
A peace-loving poet named William
met with Helen, the beauty of Ilium.
She offered him vice,
but war was the price,
and he preferred to remain a civilian.
That's just not the kind of thing that would tempt him into the thread, I'm afraid.
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Last Halloween I lost my mask in
a party hosted by William Haskins.
Thus William did come
with a jerk of my thumb,
but there was no afterglow to bask in.
a party hosted by William Haskins.
Thus William did come
with a jerk of my thumb,
but there was no afterglow to bask in.
See, trouble is, William would keep your mask, he'd never come to the jerk of your thumb, I'm not so sure he'd reject the vice Helen offered, and he'd totally torch Troy.
This is going to take some work.
This is going to take some work.
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Hmm. Well, he might like that. We'll have to ask him if he visits.
Meanwhile, I think we'll have to work around his name if we want a limerick.
Black hat tilted over gleaming white bone,
William stands in a class of his own,
and our wretched rhymes
(which fall short of sublime)
will inspire him, I fear, merely to groan.
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So I got inspired by runes and circles and other cool stuff last night, but none of it is coherent enough to be a poem yet. I will attempt to make sense of it
In this thread. All. day. Long. If anyone knows of any good rhymes for hagalaz or wunjo, please feel free to yell them out.
And before i forget:
Mind-wrestle round 1 goes to last poet standing which looks to have been Cass.
In this thread. All. day. Long. If anyone knows of any good rhymes for hagalaz or wunjo, please feel free to yell them out.
And before i forget:
Mind-wrestle round 1 goes to last poet standing which looks to have been Cass.
Excuse me, pup. That was rude. I am the reigning mind-wrestler of this thread. And you, sir, are no poet.
Don't know about the wrestling, but thought I'd check to see what you awesome people are up to. I've been quiet lately, I could use a break. I'm about 85% through my first poetry journal.
Then it's full time on the Lullabies for young people.
I've heard that rhyming is considered amateurish, though the only times I've seen outright suggestions against it have been some online lit zines. A shame, as I'm starting to enjoy: A, B, C, B, DD, CC rhythm.
Then it's full time on the Lullabies for young people.
I've heard that rhyming is considered amateurish, though the only times I've seen outright suggestions against it have been some online lit zines. A shame, as I'm starting to enjoy: A, B, C, B, DD, CC rhythm.
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We're composing odes to Haggis's's's's ass. Come join us!
Here's a start on mine. It's a poem in progress.
*clears throat*
*taps mike*
Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie ass,
wigglin' in a manner crass,
emitting gusts of noxious gas,
that'll do ye harm.
Some may prefer to take a pass,
and miss your charm.
The bulging trousers there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Ten miles away, you'd see it still --
you canna miss it.
And drams of scotch your bowels distill
until ye piss it.
Here's a start on mine. It's a poem in progress.
*clears throat*
*taps mike*
Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie ass,
wigglin' in a manner crass,
emitting gusts of noxious gas,
that'll do ye harm.
Some may prefer to take a pass,
and miss your charm.
The bulging trousers there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Ten miles away, you'd see it still --
you canna miss it.
And drams of scotch your bowels distill
until ye piss it.
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Meter feels off, and the metaphors are a little crude.
But otherwise entertaining. For my inner 12-year old.
Yes, my second to last line was off-meter -- I think it's better now. But my metaphors are impeccable.
I'm actually trying a new meter (for me that is):
I am the wolf that's hunting / through the forest of the night,
Can you hear the loud echo / all through the wintery slight,
How that blustery darkness / fills the midnight air tonight.
Though I'm finding it hard to maintain momentum in an otherwise normal Sonnet pattern.
I am the wolf that's hunting / through the forest of the night,
Can you hear the loud echo / all through the wintery slight,
How that blustery darkness / fills the midnight air tonight.
Though I'm finding it hard to maintain momentum in an otherwise normal Sonnet pattern.
I once baited a bear.
On a hook, they're quite heavy,
all bouncy and mean.
but all their talk of nonsense
and henceforth and frolic,
it goes madly to my head
and makes me crave brevity.
A bear does not mix
lightly with such a thing as that.
A bear, at its very best,
is still nothing to do with concise.
SO whatever is this thread about, my lass?
ahem?
promises, promises?
also --
alcatraz and razamataz are probably as close as you'll get for hagalaz.
wunjo -- I think you'll have to go with two words here. "fun toe" "run throw" Yeah, it won't be pretty.