Guardian [poem] – #12MoW

The ship went sailing from the bay
with countless treasures in its hold.
The waves roiled on that windy day,
though tamed by sailors brave and bold

With countless treasures in its hold,
they sailed the ship t’wards their home land.
Though tamed by sailors brave and bold,
they did not see the shifting sand.

They sailed the ship t’wards their home land,
the ocean’s might did give them pauseβ€”
they did not see the shifting sand
as crashing waves gave way to claws

The ocean’s might did give them pause
when wind grew still and air grew cold.
As crashing waves gave way to claws;
an ancient guardian of ancestral gold

When wind grew still and air grew cold
the sailors stared up at their deaths.
An ancient guardian of ancestral gold
sent ship and crew to murky depths.

The sailors stared up at their deaths
as hull and mast were ripped apart
sent ship and crew to murky depths
and last it took the captain’s heart

As hull and mast were ripped apart
their bodies sank to worlds below
and last it took the captain’s heart
it dealt the crew a mortal blow

Their bodies sank to worlds below,
descending slow with pilfered treasure
It dealt the crew a mortal blow;
A curse to stay ‘neath waves forever

Descending slow with pilfered treasure,
the ship went sailing from the bay
A curse to stay ‘neath waves forever,
the waves roiled on that windy day.


Week 3 of the 12 Months of Writing challenge brings us to poetry with a theme of ‘wealth’. The form of poetry I chose was a pantoum… and I have to admit, I’m not overly happy about how this turned out. It feels awkward and clumsy in places, and it could be two or three verses shorter. However, I’ve been suffering from a cold all week, so I don’t have the energy or willpower to try to fix it or write something else 😦 I just hope someone else is going to participate with their own poem, to cheer me up and make poetry week something other than a complete wash-out!

In the meantime, I’ll be over here in my bed, fulfilling my role as the world’s foremost producer of nasal fluids/consumer of Kleenex. Biology is both fascinating and completely disgusting.

If you’d like to join in with your own poem about wealth, drop a link in the comments below or hit this page up with a pingback.

…I love an antagonist who can be simultaneously sympathetic and badass. A bad guy who isn’t so much ‘bad’ as ‘misunderstood’ and ‘kind of actually crazy’. The sort of guy you cheer on whenever he goes up against the good guys, even though you know you shouldn’t be cheering.

Time for a Spaceman’s Favourite Antagonist Checklist! See if you can guess the movie I’m talking about.

Difficult childhood? β€” Check

Grew up feeling isolated? β€” Check

Lives in darkness? β€” Check

Anger management issues? β€” Check

Possessive? β€” Check

Dresses all in black? β€” Check

Long flowing Black Cloak of Badness? β€” Check

….if you’ve got this far down the list and you’re thinking “ah-ha, it’s Alan Rickman’s Sheriff of Nottingham, from Robin Hood Prince of Thieves!” then technically you could be correct, except for the fact that everybody gets bored of that movie and nobody in their right mind cheers on Robin Hood….

Wears a mask? β€” Check

Unpredictable personality? β€” Check

Kills a bunch of people? β€” Check

Kidnaps a girl and carries her to his Secret Villain Lair? β€” Check

Talks about darkness and turning away from the light? β€” Check

….this darkness/light theme is a really big clue. A huge deal is made about it in the movie. Are you there yet?….

Gets angry when his demands aren’t met? β€” Check

Feels betrayed by those who know him? β€” Check

Sword fight in the snow? β€” Check

Gets beaten by nemesis in sword fight? β€” Check

Witnesses destruction of Secret Villain Lair? β€” Check

Escapes said destruction to live another day? β€” Check

Just wants somebody to be with him so he’s not alone? β€” Check

Ultimately finds redemption whilst simultaneously being haunted by the memory of his past crimes? β€” Check

AWESOME SINGING VOICE?!? β€” Check

Now, I’m not saying that the Star Wars sequels essentially took the basic character of the Phantom of the Opera, removed the singing, and gave him a different mask… but you have to admit, the similarities are there!

Phantom

Kylo Ren?

KR1

But can he sing?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you have yet to witness Gerard Butler singing, I recommend you go watch the movie, which is based on the 1986 Andrew Lloyd Webber play.

“Mr. Jones next door just bought a Bentley,” Keith told his wife.

“That’s nice, dear,” she said.

Keith went out and bought an Aston Martin.

“Mr. Jones has bought the most adorable Afghan puppy,” Keith told his wife.

She sighed. “It’s not a contest, darling.”

Keith went to the puppy breeder and bought two.

“Mr. Jones is taking his wife on a week-long cruise to the Fjords,” Keith told his wife.

He immediately booked a two-week cruise to the Bahamas.

“Great news, honey!” Keith said. “Mrs. Jones is pregnant with twins!”

But his wife was nowhere to be found.


Today is the second week of my immensely popular* “12 Months of Writing” challenge. Still on the subject of wealth, the challenge this week is to produce a drabble (up to 100 words). If you’d like to join in the fun of the challenge, post your own drabble on your blog and link back to this post. Or simply drop the URL in the comments below! I look forward to reading your contributions.

Check back next week for wealth-related POETRY!

Β 

*may or may not be a lie

 

Storm – #writephoto

Storm winds come, storm winds go
He slumbers in the earth below
Close your mind, close your eyes
In the darkness he will rise

Fallen King who dwelt in stone
Sleeping still in soil-clad bone
Risen soon from earthen bed
To place a crown upon his head

Ancient foes, beware, beware
Flesh and blood and bone laid bare
Sharpened steel, lightning-forged
The Fallen King picks up his sword

In the darkness he will rise
Close your mind, close your eyes
He slumbers in the earth below
Storm winds come, storm winds go


Today I made a poem. I hope you like it! This poem was written for Sue Vincent’s weekly #writephoto prompt. A somewhat sombre and moody photo prompt this week, which moved me to poetry rather than continuing the Tales from the Dome. Please check out Sue’s site for more storm-related stories and poetry.

Magpies and humans
collecting shiny baubles
crow over their wealth

Today is the first official day of 12 Months of Writing! This haiku came about when I was walking home from work one day last week and spotted a bit of silver on the pavement. Immediately I thought “ooh, what is that shiny?” It turned out to be half a button popper that must’ve fallen off somebody’s coat or bag, and for a brief moment I felt like a magpie swooping down on some valuable treasure. I like to think I’m someone who measures wealth in terms of happiness, but when it comes right down to it, I’m just as intrigued by a sparkly bit of shiny as the next hoarder of worthless trinkets.

Leave your haiku/senryu link in the comments below, or via pingback.

Sanjay grumbled to himself as he followed the path of the stream. The water echoed him in solidarity, a soft grumble of water churning stones against bedrock. Each river spoke with its own voice, and this little stream’s voice was as annoyed as Sanjay.

Every day it was the same. Sanjay, go here. Sanjay, go there. Fix this sewer outlet. Mend that drain pipe. Shore up that bank. Run the same water quality test five hundred times because the folks in the lab accidentially contaminated one of the vials.

Sometimes he felt like quitting, but what else could he do? As Tom had so often reminded him, he had no artistic flair, which meant working in Climate was out. He wasn’t qualified enough to be a Teacher, and jobs in Family Planning came up once or twice in a lifetime. Literally.

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Tom fiddled with the small dial labelled ‘red’, tweaking it millimetre by millimetre until the sky’s hue was a more pleasing shade of deep pink. Everyone thought Atmospheric Controller was a purely technical job. ‘Boring’, most deemed it. Kids didn’t even glance twice at his stall on Careers Day. They just didn’t appreciate the artistry. The vision. Left to them, the sky would stay the same boring blue every day. They probably wouldn’t even bother with the stars at night.

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Welcome to 12 Months of Writing!

As described in my last post, I’m setting myself (and inviting others to join) a writing challenge designed to stretch unused writing muscles and limber up the creativity. Each month a new topic will be set, and each Friday we’ll write something based around that subject.

Without further ado, it’s time to announce the first subject which will be covered throughout February. And that subject is…

*drum-roll*

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*Flex*

It feels good.

As the six or so of you who regularly read my rambles know, I’ve recently returned to this crazy, addictive sport that we the athletically challenged call “blogging”.

During my interweb absence, I’ve done a lot of outdoorsey stuff (avoiding unnecessary athleticism, of course), mostly with my dogs. I’ve gotten involved in various dog sports and activities. I’ve done walking. A lot of walking. So much so that I bought one of those smart watches that monitors your distance covered, steps taken, heart rate, sleep quality and subconscious thoughts, just so I can show people and brag “hey, look how athletic I am!” (said people then look at the general shape of my body and are rarely fooled by this claim).

But I’ve done little writing, and less reading. Now, I need to remedy that.

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Gulls cried raucously above as they journeyed to their nesting place. Below, field mice scurried amongst autumn’s detritus. And perched atop the bare limestone cliff between above and below, was she – the embodiment of patience.

The small pond near the base of the cliff drew myriad creatures, and she dismissed them with regal indifference. The family of tiny squeakers; much too small. The antlered four-leg and his harem of females; too strong and too many. The tree-climbing squeaker-hunter; a tasteless morsel she was not yet desperate enough to stoop to.

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