five

I wish we could edit these posts. I had typos, fixed below.

Title: The Fox, The Grapes and the Crow.

What was said?
It was terrible
A fox in a fable,
Grapes overhead.
Compose. Depose
The fruit and savor!
Drooling hunger --
And flowing prose.
Spittle keeping.
Body tucking,
Creeping, ducking
Holy, leaping
The vine too high,
The ground too low
Bellow, bellow,
A belly sigh.
Diminished psyche.
Stomach pummeled.
Flummoxed. Gruntled.
Acid likely.
To quit and go,
Whine to self insure,
Falsely reassure.
Oh, wilting ego.
Fool, a polygraph
Will not likely pass.
Relish the impasse,
Make time to laugh.
Lady Luck’s a coin
A ticklish scoff,
A scab falling off
The player’s loin.
He will mature,
Hob and knob.
No need to swab.
To grow a culture,
Divide, divide
Duly multiply.
Time again to try
Returning pride.
When flew overhead
Two crows with full beaks.
Sweet smelling bread
And cheese that reeks.
“Settle, settle down,
Among the trees,
You bird with cheese
You wear a crown,
I feel for sure,
You lovely, Bird”
Eying tasty curd.
“Your beauty will insure
Against all calamity,
Eyes bright to see,
Feathers glossy,
Shining in the tree
A surpassing figure.
How much I long
For sonorous song?
Please do not demur.
Avian spirit,
So easily read.
Lifts up her head.
“Let me hear it,
That I may greet
You, fairest Queen,
Ever heard and seen.”
Eyeing tasty treat.
The Crow began to caw.
The Bird’s mouth agape,
The fox forgot the grape.
The morsel that he saw
Was falling. Falling!
-- “You’re a star!” --
And landing not too far
Away. And Snapping
Up his prize, wily fox
Digests, and says,
With hunger now allayed,
“It will do.” “Bollocks,”
Cries the Crooner.
Away she will go,
Heavy heart in tow,
To her brother crow.

five

I left out learn! Ack. Revised:

Title: The Fox, the Grapes, and the Crow

What was said?
It was terrible
A fox in a fable,
Grapes overhead.
Compose. Depose
The fruit and savor!
Drooling hunger --
And flowing prose.
Spittle keeping.
Body tucking,
Creeping, ducking
Holy, leaping
The vine too high,
The ground too low
Bellow, bellow,
A belly sigh.
Diminished psyche.
Stomach pummeled.
Flummoxed. Gruntled.
Acid likely.
To quit and go,
Whine to self insure,
Falsely reassure.
Oh, wilting ego.
Fool, a polygraph
Will not likely pass.
Relish the impasse,
Make time to laugh.
Lady Luck’s a coin
A ticklish scoff,
A scab falling off
The player’s loin.
He will mature,
Hob and knob.
No need to swab.
To grow a culture,
Divide, divide,
Duly multiply.
Time again to try
Returning pride.
Crows with full beaks.
Are flying overhead
Sweet smelling bread
And cheese that reeks.
“Settle, settle down,
Among the lovely trees,
You bird with cheese
You wear a crown,
I feel this is sure,
You lovely, Bird”
Eying tasty curd.
“Your beauty will insure
Against calamity,
Eyes bright to see,
Feathers glossy,
Shining in the tree
A surpassing figure.
How much I long
For sonorous song?
Please do not demur.
Avian spirit,
So easily read.
Lifts up her head.
“Let me hear it,
That I may greet
You, fairest Queen,
Ever heard and seen.”
Eyeing tasty treat.
The Crow began to caw.
The Bird’s mouth agape,
The fox forgot the grape.
The morsel that he saw
Was falling. Falling!
-- “You’re a star!” --
And landing not too far
Away. And Snapping
Up his prize, wily fox
Digesting, saying,
hunger now allayed,
“It will do.” “Bollocks.”
Cries the Crooner Crow.
Humility is earned.
Something was learned.
Woe to brethren crow.

workingoutaname

midnight, LOVED your poem. It's great. LOL, gave me a good laugh. Thanks for posting that.

five, I love both of your entries! Your poems are wonderful to read.

midnightpoet

Love the latest poem Five - though I don't understand it at all...at all.

Hopefully we'll see more activity pick up soon - looking forward to hearing from all our other ThinkWriters (and some new ones - and maybe some long lost old ones!).

I wish I wasn't still struggling with writers block. I sit down to write and nothing happens. I'm frustrated with the project I'm working on because it has stalled, which contributes to the writers block, which contributes to the stalling and frustration, which makes the block worse, which...

Well, you get the idea.

Write more, people!! ^_^

midnightpoet

Killing two birds with one stone. Was stuck on what to write for the challenge, and stuck on the project I'm working on - so I decided to take the word list and count and write something relevant to my project. BAM! It started flowing. This may need editing - probably needs editing - but I finished and it was 279 on the nose and I figured, meant to be - so I'm posting it.


**********


A sparkle on the ground. He stares down at the ash-covered ground, at the glimmer two inches from the tip of his boot. His boot almost the same uniform gray as the ground and the air – a scenery in shades of ashes. Artistic. A sparkle by his toe – curious.

He bends, reaching, his hand grimy and his fingernails ragged and lined with black. He touches the sparkle. A coin. Where from? The humanity surrounding him is seemingly from everywhere – the coin could be from anywhere. He puts it in his pocket. He doubts any sort of currency matters anymore, but perhaps having some remnant of before will matter later – who knows what will happen next?

The sun isn’t visible through the gray cover surrounding the press of people, and there’s no way to mark the time except to distinguish between “day” and “night”. Groups huddle together – strangers seeking comfort from other strangers who are seeking the same. Sobs fill the air. Grief and hunger and overwhelming helplessness make up the atmosphere as much as ash. Sometimes nervous laughter can be heard – it never last long, nor does it lift the mood.

He stands apart. In his head, he composes a speech. Someone has to bring everyone together. Someone has to insure survival. Someone has to start moving the mood away from dwelling on the terrible and towards planning for the future.

He doesn’t know how to lead people, but he will learn. He is not refined, not cultured, but that is not what they need. He knows, deep in his gut, that what they need is him. He knows he must speak up, he must lead.

He is twelve.

midnightpoet

Yep, needed to proofread. Change the first sentence from "a sparkle on the ground" to "a sparkle by his toe" so as not to use ground twice so close together.

midnightpoet

Crap, that doesn't work either. Going to proofread and fix this situation.

midnightpoet

A sparkle catches his eye. He stares down at the ash-covered ground, at the glimmer two inches from the tip of his boot. His boot is almost the same uniform gray as the ground and the air – scenery in shades of ashes. Artistic. A sparkle by his toe – curious.

He bends, reaching, his hand grimy and his fingernails ragged and lined with black. He touches the sparkle. A coin. Where from? The humanity surrounding him is seemingly from everywhere – the coin could be from anywhere. He puts it in his pocket. He doubts any sort of currency matters anymore, but perhaps having some remnant of before will matter later – who knows what will happen next?

The sun isn’t visible through the gray cover surrounding the press of people, and there’s no way to mark the time except to distinguish between “day” and “night”. Groups huddle together – strangers seeking comfort from other strangers who are seeking the same. Sobs fill the air. Grief and hunger, fear and helplessness make up the atmosphere as much as ash. Sometimes nervous laughter can be heard – it never last long, nor does it lift the mood.

He stands apart. In his head, he composes a speech. Someone has to bring everyone together. Someone has to insure survival. Someone has to start moving the mood away from dwelling on the terrible and towards planning for the future.

He doesn’t know how to lead people, but he will learn. He is not refined, not cultured, but that is not what they need. He knows, deep in his gut, that what they need is him. He knows he must speak up, he must lead.

He is twelve.

midnightpoet

Flip a coin – fifty-fifty odds; balance.

From time to time I find myself standing on the edge of a cliff. I never know how I get there, but I know when there’s a ledge under my toes. I know when I’m staring down at the vast space beneath me and the jagged rocks at the bottom. I know the fear in my chest; I know the panic.

I know I need to make myself jump. No one else can make me. There’s no one that can push me. No right words to inspire me. The courage lies in me alone.

Now here I am again, on this cliff. My toes are hanging off the ledge. I hold my breath, I close my eyes. I scream – half laughter, half fear, all a release – the scream of freedom. It echoes around me and I can hear my emotions.

I’m composed. I’m calm. Realization brought me to this cliff, acceptance will push me over. I take a deep breath. I count to ten. I count to twenty. I can’t keep counting – I’m stalling.

There’s no way to insure the results of jumping. There never is. A blind leap is the hardest leap to take. But then, if the leap wasn’t blind, it wouldn’t be a leap – it would barely be a step. Nothing ever happens without taking chances.

I take a deep breath. I count to ten. I count to twenty. What if it’s terrible? What if I’m terrible? It’s safe here, it’s known. Turn around? Run away?

No. Leap. Learn. Time to take the dive into a whole new culture.

I take a deep breath.

Flip a coin – fifty-fifty odds; balance.

five

Excellent, midnight. Looks like you've broken your block! You do a great job of pacing, conveying mood and pulling the reader into the story and your character's minds.

BTW, my last poem was retelling two of Aesop's fables in sequence: The Fox and the Grapes (sour grapes) and The Fox and the Crow (beware of flattery) -- if that helps.

midnightpoet

I'm not familiar with either fable, but re-reading with that knowledge, I can see it more. There are still parts that make no sense to me - but I don't like it any less. The rhythm, the rhyme, the pacing...it's really wonderful.

midnightpoet

Where is everyone?

chelydra

Thinking.

workingoutaname

Sorry, I've been having internet trouble for the past few days, I probably won't be here to check out people's responses for another few days. Maybe not even until Judgment Day.
Sorry again. Keep writing!

ladyhwin

The doors to the great hall swung slowly open, revealing to the expectant guests their long awaited hero, standing before them like a glorified spectacle. Heh stood absolutely still, gazing over the awed people, waiting.
But noone leaped out at him, not like the last time. There was no disturbance in the air, only expectancy, and he moved forward into the crowd, wishing that he could make all turn out well. Then he would be a hero in his mind, as well as the people's.
At the base of the stairs he stopped. Though his path was now covered in red carpet, he could still sense the traces of her footsteps on the stone tile, could still hear her mocking laughter.
Quickly he composed himself and moved forward again, doing his best to insure that the people did not detect anything. He was playing with lives and knew that either side of the coin held death. Two vastly different cultures lay in his hands.
He stopped again, looking down at the floor, wondering how they had managed to clean her blood from the floor, for gypsy blood never leaves the one who touches it, they will be haunted forever by the wild life they helped to end.
He closed his eyes, unable to move his feet forward. He coud feel the harsh expectancy of the people around him, and yet... he could not forgive them. They could not learn... they could only hurt...
He had not known who she was, had only known that she was begging him for help. They had killed her for it.
And he was one of them, those terrible cruel men.
He stepped forward.

chelydra

Looks like some good stuff is happening!

Nylecoj

Time stood still. His life hung by a single thread, balanced on the edge of a knife; a terrible game of chance. The coin tumbled through the air as his eyes took in everything. From the stained carpet, to the ornate table set with fine crystal; from the scoffing masks on the wall laughing at him, reminding him of the cruel culture he was in, to the tall shelves lined with beautiful books, each one bound in a different color and filled with knowledge.

Over, and over the silver piece spun, now heads, now tails, falling slowly, making sweat bead upon his forehead though his eyes were hard, his face composed, not a hair out of place, a red rose tucked in his button hole. The coin landed in the palm of his hand, his fingers closing tightly over it, his mind flashing to his wife. The rose was from her garden, she loved roses. He had to insure her safety. Heads would save her.

Slap! He smacked the coin to the back of his other hand. Images of his son sped through his thoughts. His beautiful little son; playing, learning, growing up. Tails and mother and child would die.

Slowly, he drew his hand back from the cold metal disk. Heads. The gun exploded. Pain made him gasp as he sank to his knees, blood soaking his white suit, redder than his wife's rose lips, darker than his son's curly hair. Again the gun fired, and he fell lifeless, a dark figure standing over him just beyond the pool of blood, the smoking gun still in its hand. "The debt is paid. Your family will live in peace."

midnightpoet

Ladyhwin...you paint a picture and a scene beautifully. I'm dying to know more about the man, about the culture, about the situation he's in. So many questions and nothing is answered. I love it!

Nylecoj! Wow - I was drawn in, enthralled the entire time. It flowed so smoothly from beginning to end. Wonderful imagery and emotion. Your writing is always so captivating.

workingoutaname

WOW! I'm so impressed by everything everybody has done with this over the past few weeks. It's really quite amazing.

As I said before, I'm having internet troubles (I'm at a coffee shop now), so I don't have much time; but I will announce the winner today and comment briefly on the pieces I've not yet commented on.

@midnight, you're two entries since I've been here were amazing. I loved the story of the boy needing to lead. It was definitely my favorite; and that final line? Magic.

@ladyhwin, you left me wanting SO MUCH MORE from your entry!! It was a fascinating mystery which was left as a mystery and I loved that.

@Nylecoj, Awesome. Just awesome. I really really loved how your story flowed. Not only was it smooth, but it was... not deceptive... unrevealing?... it had me questioning what was happening from the start and then the end was so quick and perfect. I found myself thinking of The Lottery by Shirley Jackson when I finished it. As soon as I finished I knew you were the winner. Your story got to me.

So, congratulations Nylecoj! It's your turn to write up a challenge. Thank you everybody for entering and for your patience with me and my computer issues!!

midnightpoet

Excellent choice, Work! Also, I hope your internet troubles get resolved soon.

Well deserved congrats, Nylecoj! Look forward to your challenge.