A fellow forumite The Uncanny kindly suggested that I’d start a poetry thread. I’m a fairly cynical person myself but let’s try to be utterly zany and positive this time around. This topic is inspired by (but not inspiring to be like) Fair Isabela thread, which some of us tried to steer from a shouting match to poetry. This topic has nothing to do with that racism debate so let's leave it behind.
Themes can range from a game review to an ode to your favorite companion. Anything goes. It doesn't have to be good, just have fun while writing it. You can post criticism about the game too but it has to be in poetry of some form.
Here’s a limerick for Aveline. Excuse my poor skills in poetry, I’ve probably written about five in my lifetime.
That towering form lambastes and chides
A heart-shaped garland of marigolds she hides
You tease, my engaging guard
Aveline, a motif for a bard
And if I dare, she most surely smites
And here are the lovely entries from the unfortunate “Fair Isabela” thread (I’m quoting these without permission. I hope the original posters won’t mind. It would be a shame to leave them buried into that locked thread):
Corker wrote...
As changeable and shifting as the sea
Her eyes a tempest, hair all tossed by wind
Now anchored here in Kirkwall's harbor's lee
A siren tempting lad and lass to sin.
Her laughter loud and free as gulls that cry
No silver fish, fast-finned, has greater grace
Than Isabela, dueling for the prize.
There's promises of pleasure writ upon her face.
But pirates bury treasure under sand
As fair as she is, I seek hidden gold
Not kisses sought, but leave to hold her hand
To sail, we two, until the sun grows cold.
She freely gives of every lovely part
Except the one I crave: her broken heart.
Lenimph wrote...
Isabela
She who
hails from the Rivain
mistress of the high seas,
is a tempest of hottest winds
uplifts thy sails
and tauts thy strings.
Isabela
Such a duelist of apt ability
flexible, nimble-
No sword has grazed her sun kissed skin
no man has masked her agility,
thus her daggers spare none.
Blessed is thou
who boards her ship, The Sirens Call,
for her greatest skill
is laid under the bow.
It is here
where the tallest masts are climbed
and rocking wet waves conquered.
She is a woman of taste,
with a tongue that knows no bias.
She is Isabela.
Ria wrote…
A hot breath of booze
Chilly steel pressed against the ribs
No pants in taverns
The Uncanny wrote…
Lost to warm dark depths
She is a subtle huntress
Casually waiting
This is the end of line for prose. (Unless you decide to go for prose poetry. That's allowed)
Modifié par Ria, 12 juin 2012 - 09:11 .
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