Steph: "I would like you to write a short continuation of Stockton's story, not necessarily in Stockton's style, feel free to make it your own, of course. Perhaps reveal what happened when he opened the door, and where you think the story would go from there."
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It little profits that an idle queen,
With decadent children soon to govern
Barbarous men with men's unequal laws,
To reminisce on the past pangs of lust
And ancient futures behind fated doors.
He got a bride -- lovely in every way.
But a princess dies, and is reborn Queen.
A shame no barbarous land will be led
Without a regal lout to scratch his beard;
He laughs when a lean tiger mauls a man.
Our kingdom claims balance in such cruelty.
Which we are given by the god of chance,
But can a capricous god forgive,
And dowl out just to just so that no
Mother should thereby be caused to cry?
My king breathes heavy and walks odd with gout.
When our son stands in his stead how will he
Sentence those misfortunate maidens to marry
Men who the god of chance chose so poorly?
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Notes: I apologize for subjecting you to my attempt at poetry. This poem still isn't great, but I'm done tooling with it and ready to move on to the next topic.
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3 comments:
Hi Jack~
Welcome to the group. I know the others aren't poetry fans, so it's nice to have another poet here. Poetry is my real writing passion.
~Tammy :)
So much said in such a tiny space, Jack.
About the nature of a God who might allow such a scene as we read, about a king who would make such fancy with his charges, and about a people willing to be led under a system such as that.
In four stanzas. And I'm just scratching the surface, here.
I love poetry too, but only when it -says- something.
Yours does. I hope you don't put the form aside, as if your curiosity has been sated or the trial of entry has been endured.
If it was hard, -why- was it hard? If it didn't cause you to feel something, then I'm wondering how you can craft so much meaning into such a small space without passion for the act.
Hmmmmmmm. ; )
Hey Jack,
This piece made me think of one word: truth.
j/k.
Nice job on the poetry. The line that caught my eye the most was:
[And ancient futures behind fated doors.]
Welcome to the tree house.
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