Traves' logbook
11 posts in this topic.
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haha
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Challenge: use rhyme, make it camp themed
Form used : huitain (8 line stanza, ababbcbc)
out of breath
Do we hide from the stars at night
tucked in blankets of smoke we created
in bright cities which lack moonlight
Venturing out from under it with bated
breaths we wish away our time, baited
into camps by dim fires near broken fences
Perhaps just like when we write wasted
poems instead of speaking in long sentences -
challenge 2 -> thing on my immediate left when I saw the prompt (My dog, Olive)
form -> acrostic
Olive
On seeing you; of all that ails me I am
Left with only the knowledge —
I will probably be here longer than you.
Vast happy eyes will be dimmed then;
Everywhere I carry this “[i]Woof![/]” with me. -
ignore the post above
challenge 2 -> thing on my immediate left when I saw the prompt (My dog, Olive), use 5 punctuations
form -> acrostic
Olive
On seeing you; of all that ails me I am
Left with only the knowledge —
I will probably be here longer than you.
Vast happy eyes will be dimmed then;
Everywhere I carry this “Woof!” with me. -
challenge 3 -> write on daylight savings ( I did not know a lot of this concept prior to this prompt because it has never been used in my country)
form -> cinquain
daylight's saving
Sunshine
manmade, stolen
slinking, pushing, peeping
into dusk's hazy limits
daylight. -
challenge 4 -> double entendre, revealed at the end
device used majorly -> literary apostrophe
[b]to battle[/i]
O stick of mine, come fast
forget protocol, do not brood
then our work shall be done at last
forever have our days been harassed.
look! they come like wolves to fresh food
O stick of mine, march fast.
as we distribute inertia that is unsurpassed,
power me through slippery words of the shrewd
then our work shall be done at last
there will be no mercy and no broadcast,
justice will be swift and justly skewed
O stick of mine, swing fast.
the time for peace will be tossed into the past
when we deprive the leeches of their brood
and then our work shall be done at last
though it appears this fight will outlast
me against my own vices, in this fued
O Stick of Mind hold fast
and then our work will be done at last -
oh damn again with the formatting failure. I meant the title to be bold
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challenge 5 -> (contemplative poem about a place)
form used -> prose poetry (I tried, I'm not sure if this reads like poetry)Side Lower
There is an ingratiating isolation on side lower seats.
Each one is different, and they’re all the same. Sometimes there are chatty co-passengers, loud babies, and loud sceneries outside singing to my city eyes with their unending greenery. Sometimes I am all alone, and I can feel the stale air susurrating the stories of past passengers. I can always put enough distance between us though, just like dozens of people up and down the train. The only solidarity I feel as we move toward the same distant places, is none at all.
Usually I stretch and lie down.
If I look outside to my right, I’m leaving people behind in a blur. People walk by me on my left. If I look up, I’m alone, rocking gently with the motions of the train. If I look down into a book, everyone’s with me.
Usually, I shut my eyes.
Sleeping during the day allows me to glide with the moon at night, letting it beam to me all that’d require neck craning in its reflected glory. All that I could have seen during the day, bathed in enough darkness for me to see imagined histories and futures in the moment, in dusty barns and rusty tractors.
Usually, I forget I’m there.
I get on as part of a variegated uniform mass, swirling onboard, getting deposited piece by piece onto their seats. As we lurch onward, starting and stopping like the breaths of someone unable to control their laughter, more bits of humanity float through. I wonder which worrying winds whip them into their frenzied hurry to dislodge and disboard.
Usually, I get out slowly.
They’ll take you everywhere you want, but also where you got away from. When I do look at people I like to wonder why they are forcing an unnatural sleep in a (possibly) constricting space, and I feel like an undertaker entombed momentarily within a communal hearse. Perhaps they don’t care about where they go, just that they are moving at all.
Usually, I go back to sleeping or watching the moon.
Usually, I get where I want to be.
But not always. -
Looks like I will only be able to finish the Terza Rima in time Let's GOOOOOO
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everyday Doomsday
updates say the world’s currently in dire
straits— just baits to recurrently flake
dictates from fate, airily play with fire.
The weights of tiny smiles are at stake
their shiny fascimiles can’t light a lamp,
don’t drown any more Jasons in the lake.
People drift by like letters without a stamp
unanchored in reality, swinging out of a bag
of rejects, like runaways from a losing army’s camp
they will find stoppage though at the happy wag
of a stray mutt’s tail paying homage to the care
a stray person or two showed them, a white flag.
bear
hugs
for all, and a prayer. -
^ challenge 6 : write a Terza Rima with certain words used
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