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 audience members sit noisily down In the worn, tired seats of the high school in town Creak, go the chairs, as they strain with the weight Of the Christmas spirit of "Go clean your plate!"
Behind the drawn curtain the actors all sit Muttering about how it's "all stupid ****." They've worked long to do this, but you wouldn't know There aren't costumes, props, or make-up in this show.
A pause, then the curtains pull back to reveal The cast of the show, then they start their spiel The play wears on long, and everyone's numb By the time of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come
They couldn't budget a real ghost, so they have a sheet By this point, even the actors are beat The heads of the audience droop down on their chests Each cast member shoots glances away to the next
Then Scrooge grabs the only mic they could afford And he brandishes it as though holding a sword "What's the point?" he cries out, "of Christmas tradition?" Silence; but the audience begins to listen
"What's the point of the trees, or the gingerbread house? Or the plays, or the lights, or the caroling out? They're all pointless, that's it, and don't say that they're not In celebration of Christmas, I think you forgot.
It's not about presents, it's not about plays. Look around you, this is a new kind of day It's about new hope, not wasting your time Not wasting your money, or their hearts, or mine!
Christmas spirit cannot be remembered Any more than you can celebrate December You celebrate the spirit of giving, and joy But forget to do anything but go buy some toys
Look around you, we're all poor as dirt. I'm being honest, even though the truth hurts. So **** Christmas spirit, and **** this play too. I'm saying it harshly, to get through to you.
That Christmas spirit doesn't matter at all Any more than "Labor Day spirit" in Fall Don't bother yourself with these songs or these plays At this point, you're all getting carried away.
Call me Scrooge, but I don't think that it's fair For you to think "Christmas spirit!" when you're just sucking air This play is so worthless, you should all just go home -Try to remember not to cry all alone-
If you had real Christmas spirit, then maybe you could see That kindness and compassion don't need a holiday If you're being kind just for Christmas, then quit If you make a resolution, then try to keep it
As soon as break is over, no one cares anymore Yes, put the stockings away, the lights you can ignore They distract you to what Christmas is really worth: That's nothing, by the way, so step away from the hearth
This time, keep the Christmas spirit the whole year round Then Christmas can be worthless, yes, throw it to the ground Christmas spirit isn't acting nice one week of the year Just because it's Christmas, no, now listen here
If you want to be a Santa Claus, forget the stupid suit Just go out there and buy a gift for the hobo drinking soup Or the orphan, or the kitten, or-you must get the gist- But do it to be nice, not because it's Christmas."
There was stunned silence in the audience below As Christmas spirit died out, as their faces ceased to glow They booed Scrooge off the stage, some threw chairs up at the set What a lovely play, do you feel it's Christmas yet?
Haha, this poem is awful. I don't even know what message I was trying to get across anymore, I just really hate A Christmas Carol. It's been done way too many times.
Tis a season of joy A time of happiness Bah Humbug! A waste of time I say! The request of charity To help the poor they say. Tis none of my business. Beggars wasting my time.
A face upon the door Clanking chains, Marleyâs here I must be seeing things, Old wives tales. An apparition dances Something impossible, Yet hauntingly familiar, A warning is issued.
In the first hour, The Past comes forth A ghastly figure, a child In the skin of an old man A visit to childhood Memories long forgotten, A frozen heart is thawed, In the face of a child
Waking up, as if from a dream Again the first hour strikes, The present is now A jocund giant, Wielding a torch, Attired in naught but, A mantle of green, And a crown of holly.
A town appears, Houses black as the night, Decorated in white snow, Off to the house Cratchit A family at dinner, An clad in iron child swings in, Tis a miserable fate, But he is as happy as can be.
Again I wake, But tis to face a horror, Spreading misery in its wake The future has come back. Talk of a death unknown, A man mocked by all Glancing upon the gravestone, Alas! Tis my own.
A new dawn, No time to squander Dashing of through the snow, A turkey to Cratchit must go! Now to find a charity For good deeds must be done, At last to the house of a nephew dear, For a most delicious Christmas dinner.
And there you have it. I wrote this in word, so pardon any blemishes that may appear.
Tis a season of joy A time of happiness Bah Humbug! A waste of time I say! The request of charity To help the poor they say. Tis none of my business. Beggars wasting my time.
A face upon the door Clanking chains, Marley is here I must be seeing things, Old wives tales. An apparition dances Something impossible, Yet hauntingly familiar, A warning is issued.
In the first hour, The Past comes forth A ghastly figure, a child In the skin of an old man A visit to childhood Memories long forgotten, A frozen heart is thawed, In the face of a child
Waking up, as if from a dream Again the first hour strikes, The present is now A jocund giant, Wielding a torch, Attired in naught but, A mantle of green, And a crown of holly.
A town appears, Houses black as the night, Decorated in white snow, Off to the house Cratchit A family at dinner, An clad in iron child swings in, Tis a miserable fate, But he is as happy as can be.
Again I wake, But tis to face a horror, Spreading misery in its wake The future has come back. Talk of a death unknown, A man mocked by all Glancing upon the gravestone, Alas! Tis my own.
A new dawn, No time to squander Dashing of through the snow, A turkey to Cratchit must go! Now to find a charity For good deeds must be done, At last to the house of a nephew dear, For a most delicious Christmas dinner.
Since the title references page 339 and the theme was finalized there on the 8th, the real deadline should be the 18th.
Seeing Wolf didn't want to change his stance on the theme, and that people had already started posting before that, deadlines have to be closed ytd. Sorry.
