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.
a river of blood, blackest of nights the war of all wars, the worst of the fights so many lie dead along the bare banks surrounded by nothing but carcass of tanks
My lord! My God! how could you let this be! Leave this ghastly site for me to see! How could you take all I know from me! Why must so many die, taken and no longer free!
From a distance there's cheering from the enemy front they raise up there flag; they've won in there hunt But still I sit in my comrades' ruins, no sign of light, Just a river of blood, darkest of nights.
Sending shivers down my back as he held me so I wondered how far he wanted to go And then with a flash of intuition I drop kicked him into the kitchen There with garlic and stake I put an end to this vampire fake
A fiery bolt of electricity, Just killed my Direct TV. No more Cartoon Network. Or Spongebob galore, I just get to sit down And be completely bored. Now I have no excuse, To not do my work. No more homework, I'm allowed to shirk. Shooting me now, Would be a gracious present. Just do it quick, And take me out of this torment. I will miss you Direct TV Darn that bolt Of fiery electricy... ____
Precipice of hatred, Edge of darkness. My version of justice is brutal and lightless. Long arms of the law cannot kill every killer, So at times it is I that must be the blood spiller.
The system of courts is corrupted and weak So that victims cannot find the justice they seek. The judges are frauds, the lawyers are liars. For money they'll let the whole world drown in fires.
Justice, abandoned, is cared by my hand. I'm the only one left to take the right stand. The killers they free will be dead overnight By my blade or my gun, any weapon in sight.
Vigilante, they call me, the weaklings and fools. Sentimental for evil, they're the media's tools. They'll bleed for the killers but not for the dead, Deriding the victims for grieving instead.
I find all of those who dance free from the law And dispense my dark justice as brutal and raw. Blood repays blood, I care not for their plea. Tears didn't stop them, why would they stop me?
I care not for the "sorry" or "mentally ill". Bull crap lies do not stop me from making the kill. He killed mothers and children yet still can walk free? Who the hell brought to law this insanity?
I care not for their hatred or threats of my death; Avenging the slaughtered gives me purpose and breath. If I live and let live then I die and let die; No mercy for the merciless, in dirt they shall lie.
The big monkey soars across the sky passing the swaying willow bathed in moonlight he knows that soon he will have to die but all he wants is to fly.
The archers below look up at him reach for their wooden bows, notch their steel arrows in the moonlight, their faces look grim but still through the clouds he swims.
Commoners notice, cry out in fear for BigMonkey was their savior, they loved him but the archers killed the their monkey dear with him fell a single tear.
Wednesday is the child of woe Is what some say I say Wednesday is the child of joy While Monday is the father of woe Saturday indeed is a parent of happiness While Tuesday is a child of grouches Stallions bound across the lawn
