This is a bit of a forum game, but at the same time it has the capacity to result in a bit of poetry, so it goes here. I'm going to supply a line of poetry, and the following poster is to create a poem using the line I gave as their first. Along with their poem, they supply a line for the next person to write poetry on. No restrictions on the type of line or poetry; just keep the line open ended.
Tick Tock. Look at the clock. 8:34 I must be poor.
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Not how you're suppose to do it. A person gives you a line to start your poem, and then you finish it.
This is a life without purpose, devoid of meaning. I love it. Those people with dreams. Aspirations. I rise above it. I possess true freedom, more valuable than gold. Yes, it is a such a privilege, a sight to behold. Before I die, or grow old, or learn what life means, At least I'll live one, more than what it quite seems.
I've been losing sleep. This makes sense, considering I don't need it anymore. Not once does the feeling of drowsiness start to take hold, never do I get the urge to just go lie down and rest. All things considered, being turned into an immortal demon was one of the greatest things to ever happen to me, though sometimes... I miss the feeling of having dreams.
My name is Prisoner 9541. Yours? You don't remember? It's on your jersey. You're 9542? You must've come in right after me! We could form an alliance!
Do you remember anything? From outside, where there's light? I don't, but they say it's marvelous, and I want to see it. You could help me, and we both could see it. ----- What do you say, comrade?
What do you say, comrade? Shall we go to war? Will we fight for honor, Or is it the slaughter you adore? Will we return in triumph, Or will our blood be poured? Will they flee in terror, And return nevermore? Will they stand and face us, Or be crippled to the core? But first ask yourself, comrade, What are we fighting for?
[I guess I'll use up a bunch of my random scribblings]
Erase the slate of dreary tears, Clear your memory of fears; Drink the wine, spend the time To find your mind is in a bind: Sleeping soundly without a scream Of severed secrets sealed in a seam, So slit the curtain from the wall, Reveal the gory scene to all. Shine like a seashell in the sun: With a glint of ease and a glimmer of fun Near seas of dreams and skies of light, But brought to ashes in the night; Shattered and scattered, they flit away Above the ocean of dismay.
Horizons near endless maw, Accompanied by sky, an open jaw, Wishes are made; Monkey's paw, Leaves the layman's mind in awe, The macrocosm we know, still parturient, yet alienating, To the subatomic unknown, ameliorating, Though it follows a pattern, you can say it's unplanned, Including our existence, which we have yet to barely understand
Enbistled slumpforious grubles. These words are certainly not fictitious. Certainly not troubadours of incoherency, Bursting with pride, yet surreptitious.
Keep Yourself Alive! the stereo blared, My Queen record spinning; loud as I dared. A blast from the past, well, it has fared; The grooves of old music meant to be shared!
Keep yourself alive, no one else w[/i]ill Towards the pits of death, do not dive For if you fall ill, You will see the doors of death. So I advise you, dear traveler, Keep yourself alive.
