Perhaps from lands beyond the sea
        A mighty king will send for me,
        Unearthly light around me glow,
        Light my way to Tambero.

        Keen to solve the riddle there,
        Each prior knight abandoned care,
        Rushed into the darkclad plain,
        Succumbed to Tamb'ro's evil bane -
        However, I shall not thus fail,
        As shielded by my coat of mail
        Will I thwart death - so ends my tale.

33 responses total.

you paint wonderful pictures wtiu with words John..very nice..:)

Thanks! Some punctuation and wording needed a bit of cleanup.
Here's the revised version:

        Perhaps from lands beyond the sea
        A mighty king will send for me -
        Unearthly brightness 'round me glow!
        Light my way to Tambero!

        Keen to solve the riddle there,
        Each prior knight abandoned care,
        Rushed into the darkclad plain,
        Succumbed to Tamb'ro's evil bane -
        However, I shall not thus fail,
        And shielded by my mage-charmed mail
        Will foil Death! (So ends my tale.)

I really liked this John!!!
VEry simple and ryhmy....Nice Job!

Now you have to do one for me.

July, and already the summer's been hard
On the thirsty wan grass in the sun-spotted yard.
He stands and regards, now the scene at his feet,
Now the other dry gardens and lawns on the street;

Remembers yards past, other years, other droughts
Even worse than this monster, all gone and forgotten.
Maybe this one will end with wild flowers in gouts;
Maybe autumn will find the world dried-up and rotten.
Either way, he reflects as he looks at the sky,
Resurrection's a thing faith and labor can buy -- 
So he waters the lawn.  So would you.  So would I.

Heh. Thanks, Michael.

I'm impressed again.

Heh.  Gotta luv 'em...old poets never die, they just gather wit.   (= (= (=
(Did I say old?....I meant "seasoned", yeah, that it, "seasoned."  *grin*)

        Much not well!
       (I can tell!)
        Can't you see,
     or Hear my plea?
        Any doubts?
       (Everyone shouts:
       "Let it be!")

        Drat it all!
       "Enough!"'s my call!
       (Leave this place,
        I need some space.)
       "Zoo," says I;
        Is that why
     an Anguished face?

That's cheating.

And not absolutely necessary, either.  Delete the "or" in the 
fourth line and start the last line with "an".  

I was half-expecting an Audenesque sonnet (I think he actually 
has one in 7+7 format in his Collected Poems), but your poem is 
much, much more difficult and impressive.  Little two-stress 
lines leave me in tangles whenever I try to write them.  Envy, 
envy.  Anyway, I like it, although I might change my mind when I 
figure out what it means.  ;-)

Hmph. What some call "cheating" I call "generalizing the
rules."

A rule?  How cruel!  Provoke, my bloke, and ire - the fire to stoke!
Why do you two when one, so spun, is nice - yes, twice the fun!
*giggles*

Call it a "pattern" then instead of a "rule". Anyone who sees
the pattern should feel free to jump in and add their own
example of it.

Her legs; she always hated them, the straight
Incurvate line from heel to whaleboned hip.
"Legs are not all," as once declared her mate;
Legs are not anything, in fact, to grip
And hold, next to the nippled breasts above,
Rippled and wobbled by love's doubled shove
(Yet breasts portentious and a thing of state).

Cheekbones to die for, on the other hand,
Like apple sweetness on her face's verge,
In winter rosy and in summer tanned;
No human sonnet can convey the urge
To kiss them that consumes her mate of late --
Only her eyes afford him, with the power of Fate,
No look that does not kill, nor glance command.

A rhyme sublime - to mime, in time, is grime:  a crime to chime.
And so I know so low to go will throw a blow, in tro'.
IT will not thrill -- nay, chill, and still, a pill:  I'll kill my fill.
and shame -- I tame my name, and blame the game, the same is fame.

I'll stop now before I get even less cohesive than I already am --
though this *does* make sense, if you stretch your mind a bit.

I can't stand it.

My heroes. ;-)

Don't humor us, Mary... stop us before we rhyme again.  =}

Well, I certainly don't want to be mistaken for anyone's hero,
so I guess I'll stop entering stuff here.  ;-)

*rotfl*

Actually, Michael, there is a (short) story to my response #19.
I read it quickly and it sounded like John and I thought I'd
read the header as being entered by John.  And part of the 
message reminded me of someone I admire, so that's where the
"hero" came from.

I only tell you this because I'm basically honest.  Mostly
basically.  I try anyhow.  A good part of the time.  On and off,
but mostly on.

Anyhow, know I read every single word you enter here, and
even those you don't but I think you do.  And vice-versa. ;-)

I'm going to bed now.

What did you think sounded like John?  One of my responses?
I'm absurdly flattered, if so.

So, anyway.  Is anyone going to say anything?  Or are we just
going to, you know, sit here?  Or what?

(considering i entered #19, mary obviously gets confused about such 
trivialities... *g* )

I don't do headers very well.  Never did.

Re #23: Mary thought I wrote the Hillary Clinton poem. She has
this habit of attributing any work of genius to me. :)

"What Hillary Clinton poem?" asked the assembled multitude.

Well, figure that out and you've got the key to this item.

*That* part is easy.  Anyone can figure that out.  It the rest of it I can't
do.

Well, I dunno. The three people who have obviously picked up on
the gimmick in #0 -- including md, who proceeded to imitate it --
are all aware of my past proclivity to use the gimmick. From
the responses it's not clear that others have caught on, so I'm
not sure how easy it is to spot unless you're looking for it.

I noticed it immediately....do I get a prize?...c(-:

Is this not so?

A simple trick!  And which such twist,
Many are ridiculed for the sake of ego?

Aghast am I, that when upon the first approach,
Notice it I did not!

Indeed, it is just now,
Delirious and drowsy in the morning haze,
It does become apparent --
O What blind eyes are these,
Tell me true, tell me true.

        What is this "morning haze" of which you speak?
        Of this brew I would partake myself
        Which bringeth clarity in the midst of fog.
        !

I guess I just wasn't thinking initially.

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