rayaso | Season 10, Week 13

"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here."

I have noticed a trend in LJ Idol which I admire. More and more writers are submitting poems. It takes great courage to write a poem. So far, I have written only prose. What kind of writer would I be not to attempt the grandest form of human expression? I enjoy poetry, but I wonder, do I have what it takes to produce a poem, especially with so few days to write it?

A good poem soars above the literary landscape to the amazement of all, while a bad one can embarrass the poor author like nothing else. Can I proudly write my name next to Yeats, Auden, and Elliot on the roll of poets, or will I fail utterly and suffer humiliations galore? These are the questions that bedevil me, especially given the topic this week, which has resulted in a mess of ideas.

This does not seem like an auspicious start for a poem, but I have chosen this occasion to write not just any poem, but an epic in twelve parts.

Poetry comes in many forms – free verse, sonnets, odes, elegies, and more. I have chosen the most admired of them all, the limerick. I know, I know, the challenge is too great you say, but “go big or go home.” So, I submit my epic limerick, and dedicate it to my real muse:

halfshellvenus.

The bar for poetry has now been set at limericks!

* * * * * *

THE RESCUE

I.
My poor words are now locked in a jail,
With my Muse bound in chains down in Hell.
I have less than one week
Our survival to seek,
And collect enough votes not to fail!

II.
My lost Muse is a Venus so fair,
With red hair and complexion so rare,
A great beauty I deem
And the stuff of my dreams
To release her from Hell I must dare.

III.
The new entrance to Hell I shall seek,
Tricky Satan must change it each week.
Where will it be found?
A huge hole in the ground?
Or a cave in a mountain so bleak?

IV.
I fear a brave guide I shall need,
Who is strong, with sharp swords and fast steeds,
He will help me find Hell
And then come home as well,
With the Muse that I need to succeed.

V.
Who can help me the most is Sir Knight,
He’s a man not afraid of a fight.
The Knight says he can go
And will land many blows
To release my lost Muse chained so tight.

VI.
I will seek the old seer and then start,
A wise trip, the Knight says, on my part.
She will tell me, I know,
The best way I should go,
To find Hell and then rescue my heart.

VII.
Oh wise seer, help me start on my quest,
Which direction to Hell is the best?
“A pure heart’s all you need,
So go East on your steed,
To the country where no one is blessed.”

VIII.
In the East, they bow low to an Idol,
All those writers who are very tribal.
Sir Knight finds the lost trail
That they hid in the dale.
To approach is to be suicidal.

IX.
Now alone into Hell I must go
For no guide is allowed down below.
Through the vast fire ahead,
Is the Lord of the Dead,
And this Devil is now my sworn foe.

X.
The souls damned to great torture abound.
My lost Spirit, where can you be found?
Through this fierce fire and flame
I shall seek my fair dame.
'Though despairing, I search all around.

XI.
I have found her amidst all this pain!
A hard rock holds my Muse in thick chains,
To release her I know
Will be hard, yet I go
Break the lock, and I free her again.

XII.
My lost Muse is restored unto me
And next week, a new prompt I will see.
A fun story I’ll write,
If I work through the night,
And no poems, this I promise to thee!

* * * * *

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From:

i-17bingo.livejournal.com

Forgive me if I seem quite terse
My vocabulary has never been worse
But it was quite a deed
To read your LiveJournal feed
Which is now full of rhyming verse

From:

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