Thread: Tag Poem: the Game Board: Oblivion / Ship of Fools.


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Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
One 4 line stanza per post, rhyming abab, the first line of which is the same as the last line of the previous stanza.

Subject: What I Did in my Holidays
.

Get up too early. Take taxi. Queue. Wait.
Fumble for passport and for boarding pass.
Unpack. Repack. Queue. Coffee. Go to gate.
Row forty-seven F, World Traveller class.
 
Posted by Amos (# 44) on :
 
Row forty-seven F, World Traveller Class
Wedged haunch to haunch between Phineas Finn
And Mrs Sairy Gamp. This too will pass.
Stow your hand luggage. Let the fun begin.
 
Posted by Marvin the Martian (# 4360) on :
 
Stow your hand luggage. Let the fun begin.
The plane takes off, climbing to the sky
Carrying holiday dreams and hopes within
The buckets, the spades, the suncream, and I.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
The buckets, the spades, the sun cream and I
Remember I forgot to stop the milk.
The crowded step signals to passers by -
To any burglar and their thieving ilk.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
To any burglar and their thieving ilk
Summer extends a long invitation:
Windows ajar, curtains fluttering like silk,
Summoning all with soft susurration
 
Posted by the famous rachel (# 1258) on :
 
Summoning all with soft susurration
The white-hooded waves on the sandy seashore
Finally arrived from the grubby bus-station
I throw off my clothes and jump in with a roar.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
I throw off my clothes and jump in with a roar.
Soft, silent and subtle, the sinking sand sighs
and subsumes all my nakedness - head, shoulders, more..
until all that remains is the legs past the thighs.
 
Posted by Raptor Eye (# 16649) on :
 
Until all that remains is the legs past the thighs,
I pull myself up and gaze out to the sea,
And remember all of those tearful good-byes,
Shedding a tear at one special memory.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Shedding a tear at one special memory
Of that funny hotel in Torre del Mar -
Not knowing the Spanish for 'seminary' -
Which was why there wasn't a pool or a bar.
 
Posted by mark_in_manchester (# 15978) on :
 
[Killing me]

<I have to murder that last line or I can't make the sense or the scan!>

Why there wasn't a pool or bar, my love
in the house where we once came together -
Now you fight for a newer car, my love, and
hotels with dependable weather.

[ 25. July 2014, 16:50: Message edited by: mark_in_manchester ]
 
Posted by St. Stephen the Stoned (# 9841) on :
 
Hotels with dependable weather
May be found anywhere on this isle.
In Winter or Summer, whenever,
The weather's dependably vile.
 
Posted by Chesterbelloc (# 3128) on :
 
The weather's dependably vile.
Except when it isn't, like when
The sun shines like it's going out of style -
And, depend on it, I'm at work then.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Depend on it, I'm at work,- then
The sun comes out for a brief glance,
The whole country smiles as the weather beguiles
But I'm working, so I missed my chance.


(Did that turn into a limerick? Must be out of practice.)
 
Posted by Raptor Eye (# 16649) on :
 
I'm working, so I missed my chance
To gallivant, free as a bird;
On a sandy beach to run and dance;
To do things considered absurd.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
First line slightly enhanced to get us back to 10 syllables

To do things considered absurd is what
Has us dreaming of white water, the frozen north,
Samarkhand by yak, ten days on a yacht -
End up in a caravan park at Borth.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
End up in a caravan park in Borth
The holiday destination from hell,
Sea's coldness: wearing wetsuits to go forth,
Build gritty sandcastles topped by a shell.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Build gritty sandcastles topped by a shell
Crowning the edifice off with some wood
Suddenly saved by the welcome lunch bell.
Doesn't hot food in cold weather taste good.

[ 28. July 2014, 09:58: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by Raptor Eye (# 16649) on :
 
Doesn't hot food in cold weather taste good,
All huddled around the camp fire
As the rain drives down against the hood.
Here we need the family 'live wire'.
 
Posted by mark_in_manchester (# 15978) on :
 
Here we need the family 'live wire'
like that proverbial hole in the head.
The rain's horizontal, the campsite's a mire
I wish I was home in the shed.
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
I wish I was home in the garden shed,
Potting out seeds, gathering fruits instead,
Sheltering from storms with a roof overhead,
Asleep undisturbed in a proper bed.

(added a couple of syllables to the first line to get it back up to 10 syllables)
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Asleep undisturbed in a proper bed.
Just a fortnight ago? How time has flown!
A slither of post - that pot plant looks dead -
A red light blinking on the Ansaphone.

That brings us rather neatly to a conclusion of that subject. It will be for the next Poster to propose a theme and write a new first verse.

Firenze
8th Day Host.

 
Posted by the famous rachel (# 1258) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Firenze:


That brings us rather neatly to a conclusion of that subject. It will be for the next Poster to propose a theme and write a new first verse.

Firenze
8th Day Host.

In honour of the commonwealth games, how about "Sport" for a topic? Here's first verse...

I tried to run a twenty six mile race:
In planning and training it all seemed fine.
The day dawned hot: burning feet, burning face,
Til I hobbled across the finish line.

Rachel.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Till I hobbled across the finish line
Three parts dead, to one part alive.
Still, the achievement was totally mine
In a time of six hours forty five.
 
Posted by mark_in_manchester (# 15978) on :
 
In a time of six hours forty-five
I run five k, to my great shock
or should I say alarm - when I arrive
I find I've pushed the wrong wee button on the clock!
 
Posted by QLib (# 43) on :
 
I pushed the wrong wee button on the clock
And missed the airport bus – was so dismayed.
The taxi cost a bomb, but – do not mock! -
Arrived as they announced: “The plane's delayed.”
 
Posted by mark_in_manchester (# 15978) on :
 
Hey QLib - we'd moved on to sport! This won't be great, but I'll try to heave it back around...

Arrived as they announced 'the plane's delayed',
a hundred-metre sprint with two big cases.
If Usain Bolt were sim'larly arrayed
perhaps he wouldn't win so many races.
 
Posted by QLib (# 43) on :
 
Oops, sorry. [Hot and Hormonal]

Perhaps he wouldn't win so many races
If he'd been born with two left feet, like me.
Awesome as it is to watch his paces,
I'm glad there's summat else on the TV.
 
Posted by passer (# 13329) on :
 
I'm glad there's summat else on the TV
To ease the pain of the unwelcome news
That Sky Sports once again has raised its fee -
Maybe my team will now no longer lose
 
Posted by the famous rachel (# 1258) on :
 
Maybe my team will now no longer lose!
What will we talk about over a beer?
Playing at manager, players we choose
Who might bring elusive victory near.
 
Posted by mark_in_manchester (# 15978) on :
 
'(He) who might bring, elusive vict'ry near'
sounds like the first line of a hymn by Watts.
I love the old hymns, choruses are queer -
Whether they're rendered by the taigs or prots!

(Sorry. Given the 'sport' theme I think I might have just diverted us into the murky territory of sectarian football songs. Someone, rescue us!)

[ 01. August 2014, 10:47: Message edited by: mark_in_manchester ]
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Whether they're rendered by 'Taigs or Prots
I find the concrete quite disgusting
When upon the surface of a house it rots
Whilst beneath the structure's rusting.*


*Mostly applicable to prefabs like mine, which have a metal structure.

[ 01. August 2014, 18:32: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
'Whilst beneath the structure's rusting' opined
The engineer. And sucked his teeth, and spat.
'Thing for which stadium is not designed -
All-out chariot racing on the flat'.
 
Posted by the famous rachel (# 1258) on :
 
All-out chariot racing on the flat
Flat out beneath the staring starry sky
Sport as a faint substitute for combat
No deadly bladed wheels go whirring by.
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
No deadly bladed wheels go whirling by
Nor even any sounds or sights forlorn
Instead Of silence, sounds a single sigh
Until birds' chorus at the start of dawn
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Not seeing a terrific amount of Sport-related content in that last. Let's see if we can get back on track.

Until bird's chorus at the start of dawn
I'd been all up for running in the park;
But looking on a day both wet and wan
Turned over and thought: sod this for a lark.
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
Turned over and thought sod this for a lark
There's no appointment that I need to keep
The dog awoke and gave a little bark
But he switched off the alarm and went to sleep
 
Posted by Yorick (# 12169) on :
 
An important part of what we’re trying to discover in this thread is how poetry can be developed partly through the discipline of its conformity to a theme. The theme at the moment is sport, so you get extra points if you can make this a more explicit feature of your verse.
 
Posted by Doublethink (# 1984) on :
 
But he switched off the alarm and went to sleep
Dreaming of the morning's race he was to run
He missed the snooze, there was no friendly beep -
By the time he'd roused himself, the race it was begun.

(ETA My god the scansion in that is terrible.)

[ 02. August 2014, 10:34: Message edited by: Doublethink ]
 
Posted by passer (# 13329) on :
 
(I agree with the ETA in DT's post. The three extra syllables in the last line pose too much of a challenge, so I've followed on from the previous post.)

A more explicit feature of your verse
Should be compliance with the stated theme
Without the rules team sports would be much worse
Play up, and play the game, and live the dream.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
He wrote 'Play up, play up, and play the game!'
For Newbolt was an Englishman - like they
That with patriotism all aflame
Went forth a hundred years ago today.

And now, having effectively sunk that subject, I suggest the next poster introduces a new theme for our intermittently decasyllabic epic
 
Posted by Raptor Eye (# 16649) on :
 
Went forth a hundred years ago today,
Or so it seems, will this race ever end?
I hurt, I'm hot, I'm not sure of the way.
Will a finish line be seen around this bend?
 
Posted by Doublethink (# 1984) on :
 
What is the new theme Raptor's eye ?
 
Posted by Raptor Eye (# 16649) on :
 
Thank you, the new theme is Water

A starter line: I found myself swimming in the water, at last!
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Ah, but we need a starter stanza. Here's one I prepared earlier.


I found myself afloat one day - but how
I came to be on this large stretch of wet
In what is possibly a ketch or scow
Is something i have not established yet.
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
Is something I have not established yet
Like or river or the endless sea
Whatever, it's a barrier and wet
To stop my lover coming back to me
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
Sorry, the second line is lake not like
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
To stop my lover coming back to me
I threatened him with a bullet.
Sadly, he is deaf, you see,
And thought I meant red mullet.
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
And thought I meant red mullet
When it's trout we have for dinner
But at least it isn't halibut
So everyone's a winner
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
'So everyone's a winner' - is this true?
Watching those swimmers poised above the pool
I've not seen indifference nor have you
I fear unequal glory is the rule.

Water and Sport. Go me.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
I fear unequal glory is the rule
As I swim my dogged way from length to length,
And, crawling up and down the swimming pool
Can only hope I go from strength to strength.
 
Posted by Raptor Eye (# 16649) on :
 
Can only hope I go from strength to strength
As my arms strain against the oars,
The water stretching before me, at length
As I try to ignore all my sores.
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
AS I try to ignore all my sores
That scream for my attention nonetheless
The cooling water spills upon my pores
And helps relieve the stress.
 
Posted by QLib (# 43) on :
 
And helps relieve the stress. The gentle brine
Soothes my wounds and cradles me, womb-like
I duck my head: a baptism benign
Flows over me. I turn and shorewards strike.

(Suggest the next player begins with the last five words, rather than the whole line)
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
I turn and shorewards strike
For land, dry towels, and tea.
But even better, what I'd like
Is someone waiting there for me.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Is someone waiting there for me? Is that
A red fire engine parked outside my door?
And is that water pumping out? Oh drat -
Not sure I turned the tap off any more.
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
Not sure I turned the tap off any more
And don't forget that when it rains it pours
The carpet will be ruined but
I paid up the insurance and the
water surely helps to clean the floor.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Come, come, you can do better than that. A moment's reflection could easily yield -

The carpet will be ruined - what a bore
But there again, water will clean the floors.

Ignoring the rules is not playing the game. Anyway, stynt of that, as they say in Chaucer. New topic.


Festivals

Whan that Auguste with his shoures sharp
Bladders the setts and makes the tourist cringe
Then throngen some to gawp and some to carp
And more to make their name upon The Fringe.
 
Posted by Penny S (# 14768) on :
 
And more to make their name upon The Fringe
Hand out their flyers up the Royal Mile
And visitors on endless gigs do binge
And now and then may find they crack a smile.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
They now and then may find they crack a smile
Though maybe not at comics fat and thin.
It is enough upon the Golden Mile
When tourists slip on a banana skin.
 
Posted by QLib (# 43) on :
 
Comedians and talking heads abound,
So book your tickets for the end of May.
Make sure you're kitted-out for soggy ground;
Come, wander in the pouring rain, through Hay.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Ahem. Verses must begin with the last line of the preceding stanza. So we are still awaiting a quatrain beginning -

'When tourists slip on a banana skin'
 
Posted by QLib (# 43) on :
 
Ooops - sorry
 
Posted by QLib (# 43) on :
 
When tourists slip on a banana skin,
And surf from tent to bookstall to café,
When every tent door boasts a brolly tin,
You know you're getting cultural in Hay.
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
You know you're getting cultural in hay
When the fireworks turn the night into a day
And the light is all around and the market stalls abound
And the bargain hunters all come out to play.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
The bargain hunters all come out to play
And gambol round the stalls in Market Square
When twice a week 'tis Banb'ry's market day
For ev'ry heart's desire's located there.
 
Posted by Raptor Eye (# 16649) on :
 
For ev'ry heart's desire's located there:
Wellies encrusted, thick and brown;
Tent walls vibrating to the music's blare.
Glastonbury: don't ever turn it down!
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Glastonbury - don't ever turn it down
Though rain may make your mattress float away
With you upon it - who can say
By whom it may elect to set you down.
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
By whom it my elect to set you down
Go with a heart determined not to frown
A celebration has to be endured
Whenever cursed birthdays come around.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Whenever cursed birthdays come around
(Though was this has to do with 'Festival'
Is hard to say. But in this game we're bound
To take what's given - make the best of all.)
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
To take what's given, make the best of all
OK, but celebration of a festival
Like Christmas, Easter, even hogmanay
Can be an interruption to your day.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Can be an interruption to your day?
You lead a life so chock-a-block with fun?
A cavalcade of drama, art, ballet
Music, poetry - just one more thing to shun?

...a, b, a, b...

[ 11. August 2014, 14:02: Message edited by: Firenze ]
 
Posted by QLib (# 43) on :
 
Music, poetry - just one more thing to shun?
If such stuff does not set your soul a-stir,
If literature makes you reach for your gun,
Head for the flower fest at Chichester.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Head for the flower fest at Chichister
Where, according to an ancient limerick
A nubile lassie made the Bishop's britches stir
Which shows the difference 'twixt dead and quick*.


*The quick and the dead - quick meaning alive
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Which shows the difference 'twixt dead and quick -
Is there a road and chicken joke in there?
Is this year still the 'nerdy loser' shtick?
Iraq? Update my stuff on Bush and Blair?
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Iraq? Update my stuff on Bush and Blair,
Committed to the the path of violence
Whilst thousands die in freezing open air,
And rhetoric out-argues common sense.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
'And rhetoric out-argues common sense' -
The Scotsman. So, should we book or not?
It's front stalls only - bit of an expense -
Or this? Whaur's Yer Troosers Sir Walter Scott?
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Waur's yer troosers, Sir Walter Scott?
Shouted a genial Glaswegian boozer.
Came the reply -Ye drunken sot-
Ah'm wearing a kilt, so wha needs a trooser?

 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
Ah'm wearing a kilt so wha needs a trooser
Especially if it's calm and still
And clothes are better looser
Though when I'm climbing up a hill
I would'na walk too close yeah?
Though at a piper's stately tread,
A kilt will sometimes turn a head
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
A kilt will sometimes turn a head
When other attributes do fail.
It has a sexy swing, 'tis said
Enhancèd by the bagpipes' wail.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Enhanced by the bagpipes wail - not many
Are the things of which this could be said.
Indoor events? I cannot think of any -
Except, perhaps, to get you out of bed.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Perhaps, to get you out of bed
A mug of coffee fragrant
Held before your slumb'rous head
Would move the sluggard flagrant.
 
Posted by mark_in_manchester (# 15978) on :
 
Ive been away for a bit...are we still on 'festivals'? Here's one for GB:

Who wouldst move the sluggard flagrant
onward t'wards a crowded field?
Futile reaching back for youth; this vagrant
lacks the will to wait home, yet has not the heart to yield.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
'Has not the heart to yield'. Marry, nuncle
And eke forsooth! Nay, verily, I'm stumped
Needs must improv some lines - any junk'll
Do until I can lean over and hiss Prompt!
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
"I can lean over and hiss 'Prompt'", he thought,
"None of my lines come to mind and I'm lost"
His last Edinburgh show ground to a halt
While the tired Festival teams count the cost.
 
Posted by Jamat (# 11621) on :
 
While the tired Festival teams count the cost.
And stalls are struck,trucks packed with all their folk;
When gypsy like they've counted all that's won and lost,
They head for the next gig amidst a cloud of diesel smoke.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Amidst a cloud of diesel smoke
Their vehicles they gear up.
"Come on" they cry, with bronchial croak,
"We're on our way, so cheer up!"
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
We're on our way, so cheer up - and May
Stop pulling Henry's hair - what's that I smelt?
And never mind what you heard Daddy say
Don't you keep calling it 'bloody Greenbelt'
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Don't you keep calling it "Bloody Greenbelt"
We're off to save the whale,
Red squirrels, and ice caps that melt;
God help us if we fail.
 
Posted by mark_in_manchester (# 15978) on :
 
God help us if we fail to find some humour
midst a bitter spousal meltdown wading through a sea of mud;
God help me when I fail to catch the rumour,
grace can change me in repentance, loving kindness as the flood.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
( Fifteen syllables. C'mon.)

Loving kindness as the flood of people
Trample past me to the taxi and the train
I do not feel. The clock in yon steeple
Chimes half past eleven. It starts to rain.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
At half past eleven it starts to rain.
Thank God - my garden is saved from drought.
Tomorrow I hope it will rain yet again
And I'll murder the slugs when the rain brings them out.
 


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