First, I will post the overall rules, and then I will post the specifics about this week.
Original rules, as stated by Ubertuna:
It must fit the week's theme. It must be submitted by the deadline. It cannot have inappropriate language in it. It cannot be stolen (if you plagiarize, we will find you).
Also:
The poem must be created for this contest A user cannot win two weeks in a row (though everyone is welcome to submit every week!) Only one submission per user will be accepted
As we all know, the winner will recieve a merit, and their poem will be featured on the _Poetry_ page.
OK, on to this week's topic...Again, we are having a style instead of a theme. Also, this week we are having TWO WEEKS to do it, instead of the usual one. Why? Because this will be an EPIC poem. Or, rather, a parody of an epic poem. Generally, epic poetry is very long, and tells the serious story of a heroic figure. Well, this week, the epic figure is YOU! Write a long poem (I'll leave the definition of 'long' up to you, but give it a good go) about the heroic story of you! It can be silly, serious, whatever... just have fun with it. You have two weeks, so have a great time!
The third Stanza's first line should go like this:
''And when will come the departure''
It echoes through from lands unknown A lavish malice well ingrown That scars the pink and younger flesh With rope and cable and string and mesh
Consuming thoughts from deluded urges It strikes at dawn with violent surges Billowing feeling of missing something In which to indulge your rapid aging
And when will come the departure To soils more accomplished and mature To lands unbeknown to the younger mind It comes in time, at night, you'll find
No matter how you sway and sail You'll come to one day quench the wail Of your body's blood to discover Travelling while under the cover
It has been seventy days since I last saw my beloved Spain. I lost forty men already: three-quarters by indians, devilish ingrates.
I will take my three-hundred men and bring them to their city, destroying all that is in our way. And we will take their King.
Eaters of menhearts, hidious filthy dogs. They must be put down. This is our land now! God wills it! Why would he have led us here otherwise?
Thirty of my men are sick, all are tired. It is the rain, you see. It never stops, infecting everything that is around us. If this is Paradise, I'd rather go to hell.
An endless journey across the seas, The cold ocean breeze shivers my knees. As the horizon begins to near, I stare upon the unknown frontier.
These grand unseen skies and shores of lore, Never witnessed by a man before, Have been traversed by my tired feet: My expedition is now complete.
I wonder what this new land will hold: Gold? Or greater riches unfortold? Perhaps the journey was the true prize; My plunder was the sea and the skies.
