Commentary - Poetry
So, I asked for fic commentary requests. (I’m still happy to do more, if you ask me.)
This was written for penny_lane_42, who requested a commentary for Poetry. You should probably read that before looking at this commentary.
The original fic still looks like it did, and my notes are the bits in blockquotes.
Notices
Complaints
Notices
The Giant Noticeboard of DOOM
The Big Board of Poetry
(Yet another name change?
How very strange!)
Note the long list of titles. The way I see it, someone (like Giles) put up a noticeboard, and wrote “Notices” in big letters on the top. Then someone else (like Rona) changed it to “Complaints”, and someone else (like Giles) changed it back. The next title change was courtesy of someone else (like Dawn). And now Xander’s changed it yet again.
Announcement: In honor of National Poetry Month, all submissions to this board must now be done in POEM FORM.
Obey this new rule - ’cause it’s just that cool.
By order of The Great Xander (chief morale officer, bringer of snacks, and general punching bag)
Xander, in his self-titled capacity as “chief morale officer”, has decided to up the morale. With poetry.
It’s the sort of thing I can see him doing.
Has anybody seen my hat?
I really need to find it - stat.
They aren’t labelled, but I had specific people in mind for quite a few of these.
This one? Vi.
Movies!
Tonight, on T.V.
At 8 will we see
Star Wars, and then some Bugs Bunny
So don’t make a fuss
Come downstairs and join us!
It’ll be really exciting and funny
It was tricky coming up with enough different topics for there to be notices about. But I figured, with thirty people all crammed into the one house, fights over the tv would be epic.
I’m not sure who’s writing this poem, but this evening’s viewing options are being arranged by Andrew, with suggestions from Anya.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
California is hot
And so are you
The first non-notice poem. Probably written by Kennedy.
whoever’s doing the next shopping run, we need more toilet paper
- Buffy
Buffy, being run off her feet, hasn’t even noticed the poetry theme. She’s just too busy.
(The Great Xander disapproves of the lack of poetry in this submission. Please amend this error immediately.)
I really love him calling himself The Great Xander. It makes me giggle…
There once was a vampire named Spike
Who tried to ride on a bike
But he soon was unnerved
The bike swivelled and swerved
And so he decided to hike
Limericks are fun!
(I have no idea who wrote this. But Kennedy’s non-notice has set a challenge. The Potentials are now trying their hardest to think of good poems.)
Roses are red
Violets are blue
If Buffy gets a rocket launcher
I want one too
Where does Buffy keep the rocket launcher, anyway? Unless it’s very well-concealed, surely the overflowing household will have found it by now…
training begins at 6pm this evening - don’t be late
- Buffy
By now, Buffy’s probably realised that there’s lots of poetry on the noticeboard. But, really, there’s much more important stuff going on, and she doesn’t have time. Plus… it’s poetry. It’s kinda silly.
(Still not good enough, Buff. The Great Xander is seriously displeased.)
twenty-fourth in line
for the shower
a hallway full
of shuffling feet
impatient sighs
towel-filled hands
minor scuffles
then
finally
it is my turn
I step inside
triumphant
wipe the steam-covered mirror
towel on the door
clothes on the floor
a long relaxing soak
but
the hot water’s already gone
and the next in line is hammering on the door
(This is the first bit I wrote.)
There are now at least twenty-four people living in the house. This story is set just before Faith arrives in town - so they’re pretty tightly packed in. Shower lines are probably getting pretty long.
Yummy to drink, and white as silk:
Someone needs to buy more milk
- Buffy
(happy, Xan?)
(Yes, she’s given in. And good for her.)
A Haiku:
stakes are good weapons
classic, simple, hand-to-hand
crossbows? much better
I was running out of kinds of poetry. And I at least know pretty much how haikus are supposed to work.
One day, when we leave this town
Buy a house and settle down
We’ll look back on these days, and recall
How wonderful we thought it all
But today, we think it loud,
Far too busy, too big a crowd,
Too much noise - we have to shout
We really just want to get out
But when at last we move away
And look back fondly on this day
We’ll remember heaven instead of hell
…and won’t remember the really gross smell
The past can look much nicer once you’re not actually in it…
And, of course, so can the future.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Vampires are scary
But we are too
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Give me some Kleenex
I’ve got the flu
(Roses are boring
Violets are too
Write any more of these
And I’m going to sue
- T.G.X.)
I don’t really like “roses are red” poems very much. They’re kinda annoying. (I liked writing the one about the Kleenex, though.)
Sword drills, fake kills
Seven times a day
“When do we get a REAL fight?”
The new Potentials say
Sword slicing, death dicing
All too much to ask
“Back to relaxing sword drills?”
The old Potentials bask
(Written by Molly.)
To whoever stole my REALLY EXPENSIVE shampoo:
When I get a hold of you
I’m going to punch you black and blue
Kick your shins, pull your hair
Fix you with an icy stare
Steal your clothes, burn your money
Fill your sleeping bag with honey
Pelt you with big clumps of mud
Get vampires to suck your blood
And then I will assault your ears
By making you listen to Britney Spears
If you wish to avoid this fate
Then never fear - it’s not too late
The only thing you have to do
Is give me back my damn shampoo
I loved writing this one. Coming up with lists of strange and exotic punishments is almost as much fun as coming up with very silly rhymes.
The Britney Spears assault comes from a tabletop RPG I once ran - in which the players were tied down and forced to watch a video of “Britney Spears: a day in the life”, and took 5HP of damage per round.
Tonight we'll practise throwing knives,
Kicking ass and saving lives
It starts at six - don't be late
It's going to be really really great
- Buffy, poet extraordinaire
This is my favourite. (Largely because of the “really really”.) I think Buffy’s feeling very accomplished and proud of herself.
Roses are sad
And violets regretful
Call us boring again
And we’re coming to get you
Definitely by Kennedy.
Willow the witch
is still biding her time
Working her way
to completing a rhyme
Wondering if
her poem will be done
Before the rest of us
get sick of this fun
Katy and Steph
have been writing for ages
The floor is increasingly
covered with pages
And yet they still seem
to be having no luck
Their poem’s unwritten
They’re both terribly stuck
Young Dawn, meanwhile
is researching Sumerian
She won’t write in English
(or even Hungarian)
Instead she painstakingly
composes her thoughts
In a language of which
we can understand nought
All strive for verboseness
- yet all are laconic
I must say,
I do find it strangely ironic
This challenge
with which we are utterly smitten
takes up all of our time
…and still nothing gets written!
(This one is the most like my normal style of poetry-writing.)
I wanted so much to come up with poems by Willow and Dawn. But I couldn’t figure out how to write in Willow’s voice, and Dawn… well, she would end up writing something extremely cool in Sumerian, or something, and I can’t do that.
So in the end, it became a semi-meta poem about what’s going on in the house.
Steph, by the way, is a Potential from one of my previous fics.
Hope you found this interesting!
This was written for penny_lane_42, who requested a commentary for Poetry. You should probably read that before looking at this commentary.
The original fic still looks like it did, and my notes are the bits in blockquotes.
Notices
Complaints
Notices
The Giant Noticeboard of DOOM
The Big Board of Poetry
(Yet another name change?
How very strange!)
Note the long list of titles. The way I see it, someone (like Giles) put up a noticeboard, and wrote “Notices” in big letters on the top. Then someone else (like Rona) changed it to “Complaints”, and someone else (like Giles) changed it back. The next title change was courtesy of someone else (like Dawn). And now Xander’s changed it yet again.
Announcement: In honor of National Poetry Month, all submissions to this board must now be done in POEM FORM.
Obey this new rule - ’cause it’s just that cool.
By order of The Great Xander (chief morale officer, bringer of snacks, and general punching bag)
Xander, in his self-titled capacity as “chief morale officer”, has decided to up the morale. With poetry.
It’s the sort of thing I can see him doing.
Has anybody seen my hat?
I really need to find it - stat.
They aren’t labelled, but I had specific people in mind for quite a few of these.
This one? Vi.
Movies!
Tonight, on T.V.
At 8 will we see
Star Wars, and then some Bugs Bunny
So don’t make a fuss
Come downstairs and join us!
It’ll be really exciting and funny
It was tricky coming up with enough different topics for there to be notices about. But I figured, with thirty people all crammed into the one house, fights over the tv would be epic.
I’m not sure who’s writing this poem, but this evening’s viewing options are being arranged by Andrew, with suggestions from Anya.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
California is hot
And so are you
The first non-notice poem. Probably written by Kennedy.
whoever’s doing the next shopping run, we need more toilet paper
- Buffy
Buffy, being run off her feet, hasn’t even noticed the poetry theme. She’s just too busy.
(The Great Xander disapproves of the lack of poetry in this submission. Please amend this error immediately.)
I really love him calling himself The Great Xander. It makes me giggle…
There once was a vampire named Spike
Who tried to ride on a bike
But he soon was unnerved
The bike swivelled and swerved
And so he decided to hike
Limericks are fun!
(I have no idea who wrote this. But Kennedy’s non-notice has set a challenge. The Potentials are now trying their hardest to think of good poems.)
Roses are red
Violets are blue
If Buffy gets a rocket launcher
I want one too
Where does Buffy keep the rocket launcher, anyway? Unless it’s very well-concealed, surely the overflowing household will have found it by now…
training begins at 6pm this evening - don’t be late
- Buffy
By now, Buffy’s probably realised that there’s lots of poetry on the noticeboard. But, really, there’s much more important stuff going on, and she doesn’t have time. Plus… it’s poetry. It’s kinda silly.
(Still not good enough, Buff. The Great Xander is seriously displeased.)
twenty-fourth in line
for the shower
a hallway full
of shuffling feet
impatient sighs
towel-filled hands
minor scuffles
then
finally
it is my turn
I step inside
triumphant
wipe the steam-covered mirror
towel on the door
clothes on the floor
a long relaxing soak
but
the hot water’s already gone
and the next in line is hammering on the door
(This is the first bit I wrote.)
There are now at least twenty-four people living in the house. This story is set just before Faith arrives in town - so they’re pretty tightly packed in. Shower lines are probably getting pretty long.
Yummy to drink, and white as silk:
Someone needs to buy more milk
- Buffy
(happy, Xan?)
(Yes, she’s given in. And good for her.)
A Haiku:
stakes are good weapons
classic, simple, hand-to-hand
crossbows? much better
I was running out of kinds of poetry. And I at least know pretty much how haikus are supposed to work.
One day, when we leave this town
Buy a house and settle down
We’ll look back on these days, and recall
How wonderful we thought it all
But today, we think it loud,
Far too busy, too big a crowd,
Too much noise - we have to shout
We really just want to get out
But when at last we move away
And look back fondly on this day
We’ll remember heaven instead of hell
…and won’t remember the really gross smell
The past can look much nicer once you’re not actually in it…
And, of course, so can the future.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Vampires are scary
But we are too
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Give me some Kleenex
I’ve got the flu
(Roses are boring
Violets are too
Write any more of these
And I’m going to sue
- T.G.X.)
I don’t really like “roses are red” poems very much. They’re kinda annoying. (I liked writing the one about the Kleenex, though.)
Sword drills, fake kills
Seven times a day
“When do we get a REAL fight?”
The new Potentials say
Sword slicing, death dicing
All too much to ask
“Back to relaxing sword drills?”
The old Potentials bask
(Written by Molly.)
To whoever stole my REALLY EXPENSIVE shampoo:
When I get a hold of you
I’m going to punch you black and blue
Kick your shins, pull your hair
Fix you with an icy stare
Steal your clothes, burn your money
Fill your sleeping bag with honey
Pelt you with big clumps of mud
Get vampires to suck your blood
And then I will assault your ears
By making you listen to Britney Spears
If you wish to avoid this fate
Then never fear - it’s not too late
The only thing you have to do
Is give me back my damn shampoo
I loved writing this one. Coming up with lists of strange and exotic punishments is almost as much fun as coming up with very silly rhymes.
The Britney Spears assault comes from a tabletop RPG I once ran - in which the players were tied down and forced to watch a video of “Britney Spears: a day in the life”, and took 5HP of damage per round.
Tonight we'll practise throwing knives,
Kicking ass and saving lives
It starts at six - don't be late
It's going to be really really great
- Buffy, poet extraordinaire
This is my favourite. (Largely because of the “really really”.) I think Buffy’s feeling very accomplished and proud of herself.
Roses are sad
And violets regretful
Call us boring again
And we’re coming to get you
Definitely by Kennedy.
Willow the witch
is still biding her time
Working her way
to completing a rhyme
Wondering if
her poem will be done
Before the rest of us
get sick of this fun
Katy and Steph
have been writing for ages
The floor is increasingly
covered with pages
And yet they still seem
to be having no luck
Their poem’s unwritten
They’re both terribly stuck
Young Dawn, meanwhile
is researching Sumerian
She won’t write in English
(or even Hungarian)
Instead she painstakingly
composes her thoughts
In a language of which
we can understand nought
All strive for verboseness
- yet all are laconic
I must say,
I do find it strangely ironic
This challenge
with which we are utterly smitten
takes up all of our time
…and still nothing gets written!
(This one is the most like my normal style of poetry-writing.)
I wanted so much to come up with poems by Willow and Dawn. But I couldn’t figure out how to write in Willow’s voice, and Dawn… well, she would end up writing something extremely cool in Sumerian, or something, and I can’t do that.
So in the end, it became a semi-meta poem about what’s going on in the house.
Steph, by the way, is a Potential from one of my previous fics.
Hope you found this interesting!