Iron Poet, Round X.

[cadhla]

Welcome to the latest round of Iron Poet, the game where you give me three words and I give you a poem. This is an adaptation of a standard writer's workshop activity, and I do not claim the original concept. I just claim to enjoy doing it

Comments

[braider]

aromatic
nonsensical
emblazoned

Breaking Up.

[cadhla]

You always had a talent for nonsensical romance

Re: Breaking Up.

[braider]

How....sweet. *grin*

I remember you saying that you were writing more mad scientist sort of love songs - is this related?

I really like that the woman is the mad scientist, the guy the henchman.

Thank you!

Clearly.

[cadhla]

You said, 'Come here; I need to tell you something

[zou]

crystal pony cookies

Remembering Hope.

[cadhla]

She remembers when the conquests were of
Cookies, chewing gum, plastic blocks,
The remote control on Saturday morning,
Bright-coloured cereal that cut
The roof of the mouth, sugared pleasure,
Sweetened pain.
She remembers when the questions were so
Simple, why is the wind, what is the sky,
What flavour is the rainbow, are we there,
Are we there yet, how much farther,
Are we home...

She remembers when tomorrow
Was a fairy tale, and less believed
Than Snow White in her coffin, or Rapunzel
In her tower;
She remembers when forever
Was a promise and a prophecy,
When they would always be together,
When 'forever' was an hour.

Now, in this world where things change
Every day, where 'tomorrow' is fact, not
Pretty, pastel fiction, she finds she yearns
For the days of 'can I have a pony',
And she finds that she regrets
All the hours she never held as precious,
Crystal gifts beyond compare,
And she's jealous of the future,
And the dreams it holds
That haven't happened yet.

[porpentine]

woods
twilight
firefly

And to mix it up: a sonnet, please.

These Woods.

[cadhla]

When I think of these woods, I think of you,
In twilight gowned, with fireflies in your hair,
And swear that none so radiant or rare
Has ever touched the world we wander through.
When I think of these woods, I think of spring,
The verdant green of leaves, the white of snow,
Your rose-red lips that whispered, 'I must go,'
And left me here, a lonely winter king.
When I think of these woods, I think of frost,
The firefly, in ice and amber, froze,
And you, in glass, in wintery repose,
The sum of all I had, and all we lost.

When I think of these woods, I turn away;
The tale is done, and nothing good can stay.

Re: These Woods.

[porpentine]

Thank you. That's perfect.

[fireriven]

Here we go:

sakura, starlight, mockingbird.

Take Advantage.

[cadhla]

The kitsune girl with the sakura smile