dynamo
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Hully the Handsome
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Jan 28 21:00 UTC 2000 |
A crowd of a thousand, all dumbstruck, stood witness
at this brutal attack, the worst of its kind.
Their king, at the height of his powers and fitness
had suffered a cowardly blow from behind.
but their eyes shone with pride and their hearts all aglow,
as their king rose and turned, to face his foul foe.
the arena erupted as they started to sing
^SAll hail Hully^T, and ^Slong live the King^T
The king then selected his weapon of choice
(the poetic par of a double edged sword)
and then spoke with a masculine, melodic voice
^Show dare you strike me?^T he imperiously roared
^SYou vainly strike blows, from behind at my knees,
while I parry your infantile rhymings with ease^T
^SYou trust, in the thrust of your lust for such things.^T
The crowd roared ^SHail Hully^T, and ^SLong live the King^T
^SYour verses are written in tedious time,
your surrogate stories are boring and base.
You choose to make monosyllables rhyme
and your fraudulent monarchy, most commonplace.^T
^SI challenge you now to use these four words -
^Qcomet^R, ^Qdisdainful^R, ^Qhypotenuse^R, ^Qbirds^R,
in a poetic story of three golden rings!^T
or else its ^SHail Hully, long live the king!^T
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flem
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response 2 of 14:
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Feb 1 17:54 UTC 2000 |
Glorious Skamander, his eyes gleaming gold,
climbed into his coracle, hardened his face.
Disdainful of waters and winds blowing cold,
He promised no other would take the first place.
With a glance back to shore, where the lovely Felice
Stood streaming her golden-hued hair to the wind,
He waved and advanced, with the pride of all Greece,
To the starting line, leaving his lover behind.
Like a comet in springtime he burst from the pack,
Trailing a tail of opal-hued foam.
The westering sun sinking low at his back
As he paddled his boat on the dark sea alone.
As the triangle course's first corner loomed near,
Skamander reached high for the first golden ring.
As he plucked it he turned, and he though he could hear
The voice of his father, the long-missing king.
'Turn back, O my son,' the voice seemed to say,
'Do not finish this race; go back, lest ye die.
For the Sea King that swallowed my body today
Is jealous of thee, and doth covet thy bride.'
As Skamander streaked down the hypotenuse leg,
He laughed, and cried with his face to the brine,
'I'll never surrender, I never will beg,
I'll finish this race, and she'll never be thine!'
Redoubling his efforts, as he raced for the rings,
The waves and the wind and the sea did roar.
The sky grew as black as the tomb of a king.
All the racers, save one, turned back for the shore.
As he levered his fragile boat over the wrack,
And plucked the next ring from the shuddering sea,
His solid oak oar gave a shattering crack,
And his coracle, rudderless, drifted alee.
Without hesitation he leapt on a thwart,
Put the two golden rings in a pouch with a cord,
Strung the cord 'round his neck, cast off his shirt,
And dove into the sea, swimming hard for the third.
High on a cliff overlooking the scene,
Felice saw Skamander abandon his boat.
She threw off her gown, of the deepest sea green,
And dove from the cliff to the Sea King's green moat.
Skamander swam desperate toward the third raft,
Breath coming only through mouthfuls of brine.
The Sea King's cold voice sounded deep as he laughed,
'Your race is now ended, your bride will be mine.'
As the cold mist of death came down on his eyes,
Skamander sank slowly down to the sand.
He turned, and Felice, his golden-haired bride,
Held the third golden ring in the palm of her hand.
I had to do that. :)
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brighn
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response 8 of 14:
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Feb 5 04:45 UTC 2000 |
A riddle...
Hear the tale of a sorrowful lad
Who had set to find his wealth
All of his youth was fortune gone bad
He had but only his health
Soon the days of the disdainful boy
Were to turn from loss and risks
The seer in town had witnessed the joy
He had but to find three disks
So the boy dressed that promising morn
His fingers sped like a comet
Pulling the laces, his clothing adorned,
He had but one brassy grommet
Setting off cheerful, a change for the child,
Whistling up at the birds
Thinking about the wealth drove him wild,
He had but to break it in thirds
The sun was bright as it hung in the sky
While the moon had failed to set
Hiding the sun, the moon he watched fly
An image he'd never forget
Followed he did hypoteneuse trails
Hither and thither and soon
He witnessed a church's tolling wassails
A bronze bell sounding the noon
Nary a treasure found the wandering youth
Empty-handed returned home did he
And asked of the mystic "Oh prithy forsooth
why have you lied unto me?"
Questioned he was by the oracular sage
About the events of the day
then the mystic responded, "Oh, short-sighted page,
you missed the rings, all trey."
Can YOU find the three golden rings that the boy missed?
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